Best Dysphoric Poems
I am the mind disturbed that thinks it’s well
euphoria surfs, dysphoric swells
perfect storm before the cresting wave
felled the confidence of the brave
I am the liar that catfished hope
Stole from a random heart that couldn’t cope
Love leaps, faith jumps, joy follows
Suicide upon the maddened rocks below
I am all the tears that fell
Abide in the hidden depths of sorrows well
I am the fire that burns up all your dreams
Dying light of fallen stars and moonbeams
The full moon kindles a bipolar mind:
like a hunter hard on his prey, the nights
revive a dark, dysphoric mood; then grind
the soul to abject lows from perfect heights.
And when from states of bliss to states of woe
the spirit goes, even a soul born high
longs for eternal sleep where the dead go;
where the departed no more howl or cry.
But if this dire dilemma be the soul's plight,
then it will fight fate with its utmost breath:
though it may succumb to life's hellish flight,
where madness can be an end worse than death!
Some might change, and find some meaning again:
but most adjust, while others go insane.
I walk my life, a subway station
Where dirt consorts
The air around.
It pounds my nape,
It flames my mind
With sights and fates
And sounds.
Above, a tram goes up the alley
Tinged with canary hue.
Below, my wit:
What void, what valley:
It sank, in Tagus mused.
I take a seat, doors screech behind.
O, what wondrous whiffs?
Of metal beams
Attriting loudly
Against metal wheels?
To a halt it cuts my chain of thought,
Rivals my dream, they brawl.
'Tis from the gallery
Of broken hope
The beggar man crawls.
Intemperate horns his entry announce,
Dysphoric scenes aground.
He comes detuned
Near clears his throat,
Lethargic voice resounds:
I beat my cane
In wrongful rhythm,
'Cause wrongful
Was my life.
My voice hurts from
All this singing:
'Twas morphed into
A sigh.
I longed, I longed
For all my sinning
Was ought to be repaid.
Deserved so much,
God took my
Will, my sight,
My love, my
Name.
So tell me, vagrant,
What did He take?
-Said I-
Who has loved you?
What is your will,
What name did you go by?
I used to be a man of soul
Whose heart beat strong and dign,
I used to write
And then I died
On the 10th before July.
He took my coins for all my service
At wars:
At land
At sea
-The waves still have her,
Laying there still,
Waiting away from me!-
Said he-
I will my love,
My fire, passion
-My young Natercia!-
Most darling of all nymphaea!
So God is just after all,
Replacing sin with grief.
No need for me
To pay the man:
God has done the deed.
The deadbeat coins of his cup
Turmoil ever so slightly.
I leave my dream,
Doors shrill again:
'Tis time to end my journey.
I fell for you in the way of the ultimate universe.
I was swept away by the waves of the emerging ocean
I was immersed into the concept of uplifting and compassionate emotion
due to the presence of this mystery element that has been to my dry skin, my healing lotion.
I have worked hard to focus on self-love and self-respect,
enough to embrace the project to remove and eject
the poisonous spirits and negative energy from my days
I would rather love me than to hate another anyway.
I have emoted beautifully to others to receive no responses.
Left unloved and alone, I experience being despondent.
To hear the same words that I uttered to another
would create a euphoric sensation to this ex-lover.
I want for us to love and adore each other,
but it cannot happen if we do not come from the undercover with their true lover.
The truth is as refreshing as the overdue cup of fresh water on the rocks,
even if it's hidden in a FIJI bottle, it's not as bad as a lie confined up to docks.
The harsh realities of this dysphoric journey
helps me to realize that I'm not of this world, that this is not for me.
How can I escape the unrealistic reality and channel my inner truth?
Just one message can unlock my innermost vulnerabilities to you.
This smile that's really crying denial,
crying inside, crying, no smile
Conflicted choices of either living a safe yet self-destructive lie
or bear the slander and defamation and ignorance to be of the truth, to be set free and fly.
Sometimes, the answers to all of our questions in life could be among the most random places,
whether inside of a fortune cookie, a billboard, a song, a verse, a proverb, a message in a bottle, or in someone's eyes or face.
Do I still have questions that need answers? Only the message lost at sea can indicate what's left to discuss or fuss about.
Close your eyes, relax your mind
Just breathe, and let it go.
Experience one last catharsis . . . . . .
Have you ever woken up asking "whats the point"
Tired of daily life
Desperate for a change
Music doesn't seem to please anymore
Nights when sleep seems tiresome
Days that seem to never end
I just need a switch
Not necessarily something major
People's questions hit my ear drums exasperatedly
I have a dysphoric mood
Nothing seems to please me
Everything seems exhausting
People seem to be missing from my life
Just me and my insanity in this silent room
I feel somber and distressed.
Life is unpredictable added with stress.
And yet, at times; daily life is monotonous.
Blithe indifference to anyones lewdness.
Feeling dysphoric laden with despair.
Trying to hang on; why should I care?
Dancing with intrusive thoughts of a permanent end.
Sinking in quicksand my mind slowly descends.
Really there is no rhyme; or no reason..
For my state of mind; of its own treason.
Fighting on the grounds of the "mental battlefield".
Dropping my guard; defenseless without my shield.
Taking another step in this muddle-headed land "mind".
Unexplainably made me feel somewhat repined.
Trapped in this existence and the next...
Why does this "reality" have to be so perplexed?
A troubled mind barters with trials and tribulations.
Always wondering aimlessly full of unanswered questions.
Remember Victor Frankenstein-
his fault that transcends generations,
no, no, no not his desire my dear child,
hiding the daemons of our minds-
that is the real tragedy.
His heart told him to continue-
as if following the heart trumps the brain,
his skin crawling as his eyes widen-
gasping and panting with his heart.
Remember Victor Frankenstein-
watching his family disappear,
the secret hidden away- but so
what, remember Victor Frankenstein-
Victor Frankenstein is the template.
Finding ourselves sharing space and thought,
yet gaining nothing- for there is still a boundary,
the ideas locked away in the corner-
hidden from the other-
desiring oneness with the other-
Individualism never leaves,
but the allurement-
of having a mind to share,
a heart to hold-
Binding the mind for the sake,
of a manic heart.
But the knowledge is there,
though there is a together-
is there really a together?
A fragment of your shattered soul is all I have since last we met;
it wavers to the gentle sigh of nature's woodwind melody.
I stand before horizon blue with living-love at fingertips;
like a blooming heart, its crimson cast intones a blissful purity.
A faint sensation weaves throughout the solitary atmosphere;
its aromatic subtlety alleviates my wistful mind.
Your tender touch and sprightly smile, I now recall so vividly.
In a joyous breath, my inner being is purged of its dysphoric bind.
A fragment of your shattered soul is all I have, but now I know;
its vernal pulse must be returned so that you can be truly free.
My last goodbye, I give to you before I set your love adrift.
I am grateful that you took the time to plant yourself and grow in me.
Like the petals of this rose, you'll be...
an eternally fragrant memory.
Our Past, Times Mirror
Miracle Man
10/26/2024
When we look into time’s mirror,
we behold only our past.
Both pleasing and unhappy,
that during life we’ve cast.
Our past is totally ours,
and our protected read only file.
Memory cause some to grimace,
to others it brings a smile.
We make no attempt to alter,
the things found archived here.
It’s like a book containing pages,
some, our memory might dog ear.
While others know many things,
from vibes that we might send.
Until death locks our memory,
only then will it see its end.
In every life there’s dysphoric things we Can’t forget
and also things we cherish and remember.
Tom
“he astringed a vein in the loquacious tongue
- triggered plunger syringe needle and zaz...-
now see how this psychedelia is fleeting
and the silent world that in rainbows dissolves”
when and if you wanted to hide
the stings or dreams were like this
[this being one of other inapparent ways
to inoculate narcotics]
(people actually don't know
the paths of a map if they don't walk it)
people who are absent from themselves
lost by electronic platforms
inept and inania
ignore their core
because the organism stretches
as if all the members were
octopuses tentacular stems
but the world today is disenchantment
we are nanotragedy in microcosm
peddlers prostrate on ancestral rocks
mere distracted reptiles
disguised
dissolute
dysmorphic
dysphoric
dyslexics
distant.
She
The word traps me
It crawls under my skin
And suffocates my mind
She
The word cries with me
It steals my confidence
And takes my will
She
The word is not me
It’s known with a different heart
Called to a different mind
She
The word they call
The one they know
But she will never be me
In fear of not hurting anyone,
I suffer the most in my life.
All those who have come, have gone on their time;
and here I'm and my poetry trying to survive.
After all the day's desires and dilemmas when I find mine,
I hear a sob asking, "is that all you deserve?"
a dysphoric counters me each time.
Like a speechless victim of trauma, I try to find the answer on the wall
gazing for a long long time.
that even eternity forgets to be immortal
and I forget to feel sublime.
Apathy’s paralyzation,
Iridescent indignation,
Steely eyed, grim concentration,
Ebullient, effuse elation,
Scheming klepto pilferation,
And dysphoric ideation
Drugs for every situation
Prescription proliferation
Pharmacological nation
Where’s my pills? Where in tarnation?
feelings that died
or got buried too deep
a dysphoric heart
that is left to weep
a mind that is numb
from the games that were played
a spirit that is shattered
a soul that is grey
no answers that come
to the question "why?"
or the reason you left
which I try to deny
file it away
like the others before
a window will open
behind this slammed door
Say phantasmagoric:
your tongue feels euphoric!
Like some prehistoric,
on feeling dysphoric
over threats meteoric
got an upset pyloric
and downed paregoric.
Were the dino feels real
or is this allegoric?
When you see 'em, you know 'em
but this poem's sophomoric...