Best Frantic Poems
things just arent the same...
with you gone
its like you were never there
like a ghost...
haunting my mind
haunting my dreams
its driving me crazy
i sometimes wonder
what it would have been like...
but no...
i dont want to think that
it makes you being gone harder to deal with
every single day is hell
because you left me alone to do this
and i cant...
im not strong without you
it was us...against the world
and you vanished before my eyes
leaving me to fight
but i cant.
because every single moment of this life is a struggle
you held me up when i was weak
and now im left falling forever in this endless hole of pain...
drowning in my own tears
wishing you were still here to save me
but youre not...
and im still here.
wondering if you were ever real
or just my minds way of saving me
but you have to have been real
i still feel you beside me
i still hear your voice...
you have to have been real...
you have to have been real...
were you ever real?
but where does this leave me.
stuck here in a trance
trying to make myself believe
trying to remember what your voice sounded like
trying to remember your smell
trying to remember your laugh
the memories are to vivid. too real.
so thats it then.
youre just a memory to me.
maybe thats how its meant to be....
When we meet your grip will wildly and caress me
I feel you pulsing through me, with your wicked arms burning upward
I wait for you imaging, wishing, and dreaming while listening to the silence of the moon
Ghosts of spun echoes bruising my mind inside out
Drunken circles creek and pool from my fingertips
Water pours from my soul, tears of salt from my eyes rush to the sea
Hush stillness, I can hear you coming fast
At the back of my heels making my heart cascade
Weathering soles shadow me by the hour to the unrelenting path of tomorrow
Woven hard in a knotted maze
Dangling my gate to a freeze
Hidden innocence loomed slow, then seized
Sweating delight praise the heavens warm glance
He is deep in the moment shrouded in a beam
Getting Frantic
My bro Wally just got pissed right off
Then he blew another gasket scoff
His face is getting ever so red, so red
Better stay away or you might get lead
I think he might not be much of a mechanic
My bro better quit for I don’t like seeing him get frantic.
Written: 4/27/14
Yvonne
frantic loneliness
insecure heart's love falters
despair smolders life
There’s a lot of heat when all eight
of us suitemates are together.
I might have mentioned it somewhere.
We’re like surround sound,
or eight car alarms going off together,
it’s jabberwocky by an established team.
It can get frantic and frightening
for the uninitiated or inhibited.
Some of us are pretty boy-crazy
and there’s a mix-in of twinkling girl-crazy too.
We’re basey, bugzee, spaceheads and freaks,
yeah, we're the whole emotional spice rack.
“She’s a good person to kill time with,”
is pretty high praise around here
because we have so little free time.
But these are good people to kill time with.
And they’re portable, we travel, we invade,
we’re crazy young women who’ve got it made.
So if you’re coming at us, trying to enter our enclave,
you better be brave or a situational upgrade.
.
.
Songs for this:
No New Friends (feat. Sia, Diplo & Labrinth) by LSD
Lysergic Bliss by of Montreal
Freedom Is Free by Chicano Batman
.
.
slang…
basey = a cool loser, nice but a bit odd, a weirdo with style
bugzee = slightly crazy
spaceheads = people who talk about weird things
.
.
Webster: Jabberwocky = meaningless speech or communication.
In caves prehistoric
Static from minds ecstatic
Lively from minds elastic
Passion from minds romantic
Impression from minds pedantic
Bizarre from minds frantic
From Cro-Magnon to Warhol’s antics
Art pleas images and not semantics.
I don’t think I’m quite here, anymore.
Slipping, slipping-
The mind is a sinister thing. It plots
And simmers, and gives no clues. It
Writhes, tormented, thrashes, wasted.
Slipping, slipping-
A grassy hill after a hard rain, a pool
Deck on a busy afternoon,
Black ice on the road, lotion on shaved legs,
Tears on your cheek, lies on your tongue,
Wind through the leaves,
Water through your fingers.
Slipping, slipping-
I think my grip has gone and lost itself,
(Silly thing. I still need you!)
And suddenly, it’s two hours past midnight,
And I’ve school in the morning,
And the rain is as haphazard as passion,
And May has drowned herself.
And Virginia has drowned herself.
And Ophelia has drowned herself.
What a terrible idea. Better to be quick
And efficient- water is for purity,
Rebirth, life. Water is not for death.
Guns are for death. Quick, easy
Death. Loud, bloody death.
Hard, deathly death.
Slipping, slipping-
I’ve lost the war. I’ve lost the war.
I’ve lost the war.
Sometimes I smile and dance
(The world is a paradise),
But then, I slip.
-By Mark Miller © 01/08/2017
Vessel of battered eyes and stare
Lost identity in fragile care
Self made prism of vacuous detachment
Colored souls follow behind actor lied performance
Creeper rose abasement seeks placement
Being embodiment incarnate
Subtle charms redress selves in mirrors made flesh
A blank slate hollow hostile enters unnoticeable host
Grace of stance drained fates barren of Cartesian ego
Viscous pets behind twisted crypts
Protects the encapsulated representation
Foxy Frisky Feline Forecaster Frantic Fay
Wished good weather would come their way
Saying stiff swishy, sadly serious storms will stay.
She was booed out of the newsroom and far away.
Phone rings, here comes company,
Next week they say, oh, I must hurry.
What should I do first, vacuum or dust;
Where will they sleep, oh the spare room of course.
What shall I plan – a show or dinner?
Oh, the wash needs done, need to water the plants,
The dog needs a bath, and what about the weather?
What shall they wear, tank top or sweater?
My hair is tangling, my head is flying;
You have plenty of time, sit down, stop trying,
Oh, no, I see that cabinet clutter,
What will they say, and I must utterly,
Go buy some shelf paper – that will take time;
Time I can’t find!
I need a perm and at least a new top;
Tomorrow I’ll use a day to shop!
Oh, now, there’s no time, what shall I do?
I know, I’ll cook a big beef stew.
That will take time to go get food;
Why didn’t I think of that before?
Must make a list and go to the store,
Must have it all done – they’ll be at the door!
But first, I will flop across the bed and snore.
There was a smart young lad named Blaze
stress and nervousness on test days
tried to "calm down," laugh and talk.
The night before he'd sleepwalk,
he’d find himself in the dawn rays.
7/26/2018
I was lasting for long...
Tried not to wrong.....
Made my way down the road,
And no reason to cry,
What shall meet that time?
I was such a fool,to let go!
Stood by that door,.....lifted my hand to snubbed that soul,
And no reason to even lie
Send back that mind,
Lifted my eyes in the sky,....
Sure to see those behind me.
Breaking intentions in high grams,
Wash away dirt from that durable apparel,
Yearning more for farewell,
How do I wait and say,"forgive me"?
Lofty my words of regret may be,
No one knows what tomorrow will set on the dinning table,
Shadows of pain,shed of rebel,
Jumped over an elephant,till several times only to a lizard.
Every word will be held sad,
Like the ass roared to the farmer,
No room for the accuser!
Host of counts and countess,
Desperate for societal powers,
Come forth to carry me home,
Always playing in rain,
As sunshine brings happiness in lane.
Forgiveness clears a sinful pot,
Seventy seven by seven......ridicule not!
Bean bags. Vacuum cleaners. And dustbins. Lining up. Waiting. Waiting for the cloths. The cloths are counting dust particles. That will take a very long time indeed. And yellow striped lights are not tigers. They are a glow of stained paint. So count the wiggles of several fat black creatures and sigh at least ninety times. Wow. Pin pinnings pricking party paint. Pleasurably. Flavoursome culinary creation of new episodes of a different list. Hahahaha travel training trap. Hahahaha horsey face lake. Xxxxx fraternization z p y q
The not so silent,
Frantics on the march.
Hovering over,
Waiting to pounce.
Because we forgot what life is all about.
Sending force full screams,
Too move people out.
Makes room for many more,
Who pay too land on our greener shores.
Not enough room?
Not enough work?
Not enough,
To share with everyone?
Who chooses,
Which will be the lucky ones?
Only the same,
As what we see.
Too much money,
Addicted to power.
Continues to look.
For people that are the same color.
Views their persecutions,
Are better than honey.
The bees don't agree,
Continue to die off.
At least they are free!
Frantic shadows tell
A story of devotional love
Tangled with bloody crusades
Fought on a battlefield of
Deeply faithful attachment
A minefield of forceful words
An atrocity of absolute affection