Best Go Crazy Poems


Premium Member Fake Me Is Better Than Real Me

It’s odd how we all have a persona,
An image we’d like others to see.
My emotional clothing, my charm and charisma, 
It’s nice but it’s not really me.

The real me, my hinterland, the me of me, the “who” that I am,
Isn’t defined by any professions.
I’m not defined by my job, nor my house, nor my clothes.
I’m not defined by any possessions.

Possessions show that I’m cool, calm, I’m collected.
Always seeking a classy sort of style,
But on the inside the thoughts in my head go crazy, 
Like an untamed deranged juvenile.

Always overthinking random stuff of conversations I’ve had. 
Had years ago with my peers.
Thinking the best, then contemplating the worst, 
Battering myself with debilitating fears. 

I hide these fears behind fake actions, fake clothes, 
Fake talk and a fake phrase.
Convinced that a fake me is better than me, 
For now and the rest of always.


Entered into "Who ARE you?" contest by Catie Lindsey 4/30/2016 , ranked First place

Premium Member Before You Find Your Rainbow You Need A Bit Of Rain

When this troubled world 
Gets you down so much
And you feel you need 
Someone to listen 
Loving arms for sanctuary
And a loving touch

It's hard to keep your balance
In such an unbalanced place
How can people not go crazy
In a world that's insane

You go around in circles
Tied to a wheel
Reaching dead ends
The walls feel as if they are closing in
You carry such a heavy load
You need some help from your friends

How you wish you could drop your heavy load
And trouble somewhere on a distant shore
So the waves of stormy weather
Wash over you no more

You iron out the wrinkles
That caused so much pain
You can at last see the light at the end of the tunnel
Getting ever near
Again

So eventually, you get your act together that's
If you can again
When the world's fell apart around you

Just remember you are not the only one
And everyone has troubles
Some are even worse off than you
We are here for such a short time
You take the stage one moment, and then suddenly you are gone

How can anyone understand you
If you can't even understand yourself
T Life is a series of stepping stones
Sometimes you make it to the next step
Other times you fall between it can make you blue

If you fall it doesn't mean you failed
You  are just human like everyone else
We all fall sometimes
You either have a comfortable bed
Or a bed of nails

People only see what they want to see
And believe what they want to believe
What they want is sometimes
Right is right at the end of their nose
They go in the wrong direction wherever that may be

Searching for an elusive rainbow 
With it's pot of gold at the end
Just remember before you find your rainbow
There needs to be a little rain.
© Peter Dome  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member My Kryptonite Is Popcorn

When dieting, I’m rarely weak. In fact,
I’m Batgirl strong – resisting the allure
of sweet desserts. I’ve never been attacked
by chocolate hunger pangs. I’ve got the cure.
I give myself allowance every day
to taste a little bit of things I crave
since deprivation is the surest way
to get a Superhero sure to cave.

But don’t let popcorn anywhere near me!
The yummy butter smell asSALTS my nose,
and I go crazy, when especially,
nobody else is eating it! Suppose
a bowl of it just sits there? I‘m less strong.
Handfuls of poporn I will keep on getting.
That popcorn you’ll see vanish before long!
I then remove my Batgirl tights . . . regretting.

Oct. 5, 2021
For Anthony Biaanco's Your Kryptonite Poetry Contest


Medicine

Sometimes I just go crazy
Trying to give my kid his medicine
You have to be some kind of genius
You know, like Thomas Edison?

And I've tried almost everything
From the airplane to the train
But he always sees it coming
And the teardrops fall like rain

I try to tell him, "It's good for you"
He just tightens his lips and grunts
Or knocks the spoon out of my hand
Just another of his crazy stunts

Now my kid is only four years old
And when I tell him it will make him better
He says, "Have your people call my people,
And print it in the form of a letter"

And Mary Poppins lied to us all
When she told us what to do
"A spoon full of sugar makes the medicine go down"
Well, that just simply isn't true
© Larry Belt  Create an image from this poem.

Shawty Got Swag

$hawty Got $wag

Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.

No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat she wants,
Wildin’ on the dance floor,
Tweakin’ an’ freakin’,
Shawty actin' so cra cra!
She just like da rest a dem,
But Shawty real fly,
Sure likes a lotta ice,
Bling bling, and Benjamins.

Shawty creepin’ to hook up
Coz she needs a boo wit finesse,
Who’ll give her Yves St. Laurent,
5-star hotels, and 5-star restaurants.
Shawty off the chain,
Shawty off the hook,
She got game and she’s aight!
Shawty da bomb - fuh real!!!

08-18-2014

Contest:      Ebonics – Let’s Do Some Slang
Sponsor:     Verlena S. Walker 
Placement:  1st

Some Terms and Definitions:
shawty – a young attractive female; dope – cool, nice, awesome; swag – style; 
turn up – excited; mad – really a lot; peeps – friends, close pals; baller – a 
thug that made it in the big time; racks/stacks– lots of money; aight – alright; 
wildin’– to go crazy, acting out of control; cra cra – crazy; tweakin’/freakin’ – 
dancing provocatively and moving around out of control; cheesin’ – smiling; 
finesse – man who has swag and can spend a huge amount of money; ratchet 
– ghetto diva; creepin’ – sneaking about; bubbly – champagne; bling bling – 
expensive flashy jewelry; Benjamins – hundred dollar bills; boo – one’s lover; 
da bomb – the best of the best; game – skills; ice – expensive flashy jewelry 
usually diamonds or jewelry with diamonds; off the chain/off the hook – 
excellent, fantastic, awesome; fly – cool, in style; hook up – getting together 
with someone romantically; hoochie – a female who dresses trashy; straight up 
– absolutely, really.

My True Love

I Love Him.

I will dream of him
lighting up my darkness,
covering me with his perfume
go crazy with love, 
and make our life sufficient
gentle and persevering.

It is time to look outside
and feel fearless,
face what I fear the most,
and when the fog's lights will
move in through my window,
its time for me to move on,
to make choices that I can
live with.

I am the reason why my shadows
are awake, I must find a new way
not to look backwards.
I am only human, I need to recover
from going to one extreme
 to the other.

I will look like a fierce 
passionate woman;
away, away I'll fly towards him,
hold him so tight,
together, we hear each other's groan, 
watch our lustrous eyes
 until dawn.
Allow our secret impulses,
urge our desire to land 
in each other's trembling
 arms.

I'll tell him, "Listen to me. This night 
will be different." 
With the sigh of our breathing
echoing melodies will be sweet,
but those unheard will be sweeter.
Love me, the very word will sound
like a bell tolling me back towards you, 
you, my sole lover.

How I wish to feel the infinite love 
while settling together in my garden,
watch his divine face as an illusion
beneath that joyous veil.
Forbid the roses to miss the spring 
as their harmonious values,
lives in our souls.

Forbid our garden not to agonize
without the light of love, 
prevent the branches on the 
trees from suffocating,
without the light of love.
Prevent our clouds from separating
before taking with them, 
our light of love.
We will take the stand
to forbid the darkness,
and proclaim the 
light of love.

That's where the key is, 
if the light of love opens 
a door to our tranquility,
feeling safe, our love will 
become our strength.
Still together for,
forty five years. 

Written By
Therese Bacha
August 18 2014


Her Masterpiece Is Her Story Part Three

It's an addiction.
She craves the friction.
The brush against the canvas,
The blood scented, crimson kiss.

This girl has nightmares every night,
She does sad things out of your sight.
She'll have moments where she feels okay,
But then she realizes the feeling does not stay.

This girl is chasing a never ending road.
She's holding onto love and won't let go.
And it's making her go crazy.
Her vision of what's real is getting hazy.

This girl loves theatre why you ask?
Because there she's SUPPOSED to put on a mask.
There she can be someone that she's certainly not.
There she can pretend to be anything she wants.

The girl doesn't understand a thing anymore.
She is feeling like a complete attention whore.
Isn't she that, though?
Maybe she isn't really her only foe...

But she is, really she commits a crime of hate.
How much she hates herself there is no debate.
She can't even explain it to anyone and that's okay,
Because no one would know what to say back anyway.

She thought she was lucky and she thought she was blessed.
Really her faith is just being put to the tragic test.
She thinks that possibly she's failing like always.
It is just like any other of her days.

People say she's enough but her mind is her biggest critic.
She just wishes someone would come along and get it.
Like he did the boy that went away.
The boy that's scars were starting to fade.

The best friend of this girl?
Yeah, she's in her own horrific world.
Falling apart at the seams.
While her own best friend lives in her dreams.

The artist has fallen off the edge.
She's been pushed past the ledge.
And no one is there to pull her up.
This would be just her luck.

What's the world? oh yeah, relapse.
This girl felt like she was about to collapse.
Drown under her brain's commands.
Fall down because of her demon's demands.

She's an artist with crazy dreams,
that happens to be falling apart at the seams.
She has no cause for her pain.
All she knows is what's in her brain.

Premium Member - Sad Violin -

No one can see it,
but it is there
Dark and cold ... as wet thick fog
The thoughts go crazy
A sad melody replay
Fight with a sword, vision failed

Drowning in mournful tears
Kills the inside of the chest
With fear of death lullaby
Always fighting, demon of the deadly sins
Give the crying heart something to live for









19.03.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Priceless

a sample of rock
collected from the moon - -
bidders go crazy

for Carolyn's gemstone contest
© Jack Horne  Create an image from this poem.

Bukowski Contest

Several times, too many to count 
I was suffering or bored and pulled his books out. 
I'd open one up to a random page
Begin to read and wave some green sage .

His words would clear all of my pain
Funny or wild and deeply insane .
They had a way of making me smile 
Which no other anecdote worked meanwhile. 

In poetry classes that I took at night 
In Hollywood where the lights shown so bright. 
I used one of his poems as my homework 
The class would go crazy, acting bezerk. 

His simple everyday themes splashed on the page 
Easy to understand no matter your age. 
Told stories that could lull you to sleep 
When a period would end it was silent, no peep. 

So it's safe for me to say that Bukowski rocks! 
A modern day poet with outlandish plots 
Never a dull poem I've read 
I've always kept his books next to my bed. 


GENIUS

Sway - For the Adult Mind

You must learn self control
Because if your heart Continues
To beat obnoxiously
when you imagine
My pink lips softly parting and calling your name
Or when you close your eyes
And dream of the way my hips sway
Thinking of the curves between my shoulders and my thighs
And that when you twine your fingers in my hair 
My body will quiver and my voice will sigh
If your heart becomes erratic
When you dream of the smoothness of my skin 
And the dimples that exist on my hips and my back
The supple curve that your fingers wish to grasp 
Thinking of the nectar that like a drug you crave 
And of the way your hands would lay
and the way I might taste
If your heart pounds wildly 
When you dream of a kiss 
Or the way our bodies might fit
Laying on the silkiness of sheets 
Breathing my name like you've never tasted oxygen 
when you imagine the heat 
I might bring to your skin 
And the way you could change 
What I feel within 
Like I've never before felt sensation 
if you heart wont behave 
Then you might go crazy 
Wanting me like you never knew 
the meaning of want before
Convincing yourself your in love
Dreaming of a lust so outrageous 
That meer thoughts can make 
Your heart pound away
Imagining the way my hips sway

Boo

BOO

Witches n' goblins
Will be at the door.
Funny faced children,
Some are a boor.

Tiny people, dressed up so cute,
You just want to hug them,
Give them the loot.]\
 
Some dressed as angels,
With mom's homemade wings.
Will bring smiles to your face,
When the doorbell rings.

Some kids will be naughty,
As they ring the bell and run.
Or call on the phone,
Hang up just for fun.

Family pets will go crazy,
With every new sound.
As they run to the door,
In a noisy bound.

Take it all with a smile,
For each yer it has been.
A spooky old night,
And enjoy Halloween.

RAYMOND V. MORGAN

Premium Member Poet's Page Pleads

I lie here waiting for your gaze -
    The hurt in your eyes is cold fire,
Why don't you come near nowadays?
    What have I done to draw your ire?

The hurt in your eyes is cold fire,
    It seems you are upset with me,
What have I done to draw your ire?
    Talk to me or you'll go crazy;

It seems you are upset with me,
    I feel useless, please fill my blank,
Talk to me or you'll go crazy,
    You know I'll help you, let's be frank;

I feel useless, please fill my blank,
    Why don't you come near nowadays?
You know I'll help you, let's be frank,
    I lie here waiting for your gaze.


(Pantoum and Personification)
May 25th, 2017


Contest: Form P
Sponsor: Broken Wings

Premium Member A Need To Be Cornered

Birds go crazy
    In round cages





*my bird guru would seek out round bird cages listed for sale 
  and purchase them to destroy them

  he told me that goldfish were similarly affected in round bowls

  makes me wonder...

My Attempt At Poetry

Dedicated to all Soup poets and muse - please continue to help and thank you.

I didn’t know how to write poetry as I was new,
only 6 months in the poetry game so no shame,
many a day after writing I was feeling blue,
I thought I was stupid and everybody was to blame.

Met amazing people here and their care is free,
apparently it’s a rhyming thing or not,
it was driving me up the bloody tree,
thanks to all the positive input I got.

I now know more or less what is required,
I tried “Monoku” oh my, what a mess I made,
struggling to write at work almost got fired,
 I was so embarrassed, under my desk I laid.

I tried to write a “Haiku”, I cant even say the word,
but nevertheless I tried, what a load of pooh,
valuable comments but almost meant how absurd,
I know why poets go crazy, and what they go through

I tried to write a “Kimo”, hey whatever,
what the hell is that supposed to mean,
but stuck to my guns and did endeavour,
produced what I thought was clever and clean.

I tried to write a “Verse”, was told to call it that,
submitted to contest, no comments, but N/A, again,
like I was talking to a stranger and saying sorry you just spat,
re-looked at my poems, I’m too stupid to give up and I’m vain.

I tried to write a “Sonnet” about my new sweetheart,
apparently it has only fourteen lines and limited syllables,
took so long she almost left me with a new broken heart,
 no fuel in my car, and all the McDonald bills.

I tried to write a “limerick”  an apparent popular form,
this is supposed to be funny have rhythm and rhyme,
previously for me anything that rhymed was the norm,
for that my English teacher should be smacked for his crime.

Finally I realised that its not just poetry but expressing life,
all you appreciate, love, you find funny and even hate,
your inner feelings, emotions, caring and your strife,
the special people on this site that help and patiently rate.

Now I do endure to write, and appreciate all and thank all,
for their positive input and renaming my form appropriately,
If my poem does not make it in any way or at all,
I don’t care because I am learning and will continue patiently.

Yes I do know the form is supposed to be "Rhyme" not "I do not know" - that is one of the intentions of the poem

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