Best Confusioncrazy Poems


A Wacky Weekend

I woke up weak, wet and 
worried on this sorry Sunday,
Rosie and some friends came to 
wine and dine on Saturday.
I still had my Spandex boxers on 
though it’s smelling and soaked
I realy need a gig to take me to 
the kitchen.. I am choked.

I used to hate exuberance, 
excessiveness and egomania;
how on earth did I got insane… 
drowning in insomnia.
Do I need a Listerine soaked 
tissue to clear the mess on my 
body?
Tid-bits and memories of last 
night might affect my... study.

It’s like Dire Straits was having a 
crazy concert in my head
I saw Lunar Craters in the space 
I used to have my bed.
Is this real? I mean the these 
UFOs and 
wormholes,
or is my eyes drifting away from 
reality… drunk with bowls?

It was a crazy campfire; with 
friends from Hammond,
clearing up the mess  was… as 
hard as almond.
I needed some pills to douse the 
pain I felt after the clean up,
I just can’t imagine myself 
getting so messed up.

Dreaming

The top was down, and we cruised against the wind. Red hair whipped in every direction, and 
stung each cheek with a snap that cracked against the skin.  It was the first day of Spring, it 
seemed. The sun was out and the air was warm. We drove fast, and I looked up to see the 
palm trees that stood tall. 

Breathe in, Breathe out. 

I felt life today. It was insane to feel so free. The music that played overfilled me with soul
and I stopped to think that maybe I am a little crazy.

Have others felt this way? 

It was a peaceful moment, and I was comfortable accepting that maybe I was a little 
different.

That is what made me an artist- I have an abstract perception on how I view the world...

But if you have seen what I have seen, if you have dreamed what I have dreamed,
you will know nothing is ever as it really seems to be.

All the palm trees, the warm sun and the flowing hair.. is nothing more than a single moment 
of time.  It cease to exist now, and I am crazy to believe that it IS real after it passed

when it really is nothing but a memory.

A memory.

Nothing but a memory.

And I am crazy to re-live it and believe its still real.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace