I'm a little disappointed that that excellent article on deaf poetry didn't have enough examples of deaf poems.
Since Joel A. also suggested that I recycle my old writing, here's a poem that's been unfinished for over a decade back when I was a disillusioned collegiate smart-aleck.
What the heck, it's good enough for the internet.
Began the Big Bad Wolf:
“If there's free will (bwa ha ha ha)
If Schrödinger’s cat can decide whether it’s alive or dead
Why do we all do the same thing
Get born toilet train eat sleep wake follow crowd worry die
Pack instinct, they call it
but it’s the rack instinct, every last billiard ball.
Bang, and you’re it
Can’t stop, gotta go with the break
Gotta get somewhere
Off the table ain’t in the game
Gotta go with the green
Change opinions, beliefs, identity
That ain’t free will, that’s friction”
“What of my mind? Surely you can’t deny that, I think of what I will do”
“You got big thoughts?” jeered the Big Bad Wolf
“All the better to see the inevitable hole coming up
Which by the way happens to be my handsome maw
That kitty doesn’t have a clue what dead or alive is
Even if it had the choice
But you do, you do, and so what, you’ll go and die
Oh, maybe you’ll find yourself shouting in the hole
‘Somebody open the box and see if I’m alive or dead.’
But you gotta have the free will and where’s that
Yesterday’s truth is today’s lies and forgotten tomorrow
Heroes of today are the demons of tomorrow
Ever noticed that? It’s all Brownian motion, baby
People march with the crowd or against the crowd,
Always to the same tune of the times
Like I said, it’s not pack instinct, but rack instinct
What you gonna do, you gonna do, gonna do, what you gonna do?”
(c)-Wilbrod the Gnome
By the by, does anybody have any answers to the Bad Wolf's final question?