Best Insane Asylum Poems
(This is a fictional poem)
I've never been happy because I've endured one tragedy after another.
It began at the age of six when I lost my father and mother.
Three years ago my wife blew her brains out right in front of me.
That's probably going to be the most horrifying thing I'll ever see.
I had a bad breakdown after her death and life was very grim.
My kids were taken from me because I could no longer take care of them.
Two years ago I snapped when I went to a diner with a gun.
I opened fire and when I was finished, I had killed everyone.
Now I'm in an insane asylum and I'm wasting away.
I'll rot in here for the rest of my days.
Darkened abyss mirrored in the night
Hazed over in a gloomy shame
Blocking all of my peripheral sight
Lonely and lost without a name
Forgotten and trapped buried in fright
Dwelling in all of my haunting past sins
Waning moon lost in the depths of the night
Defending myself and battling without my friends
Furious red eyes watch my every step
Cursing my mind with negative thoughts
So, so, deep in my demented mind in depth
Feeling my soul disintegrate as my body rots
Dying inside but nobody knows how I feel
Circling through my insane mind frame
For my sanity and love someone did steal
Ward #B Insane Asylum torment and pain
Given up hope and all that means well
Given up loving and the passionate nerve
Dying and burning in this insanity Hell
Cars coming at me blindly --- unable to swerve
Not a nightmare --- but real-life indeed!
Not exaggerating but speaking the truth
Because I just don't qualify for the human breed
pressure bust pipes
stress can burst a blood vessel
chilling is the remedy but life wont let you
young guys think your soft when you decide to wise up
old men looking like your not quite wise enough
I learned long ago that the hood life was not enough
all they want is something in their dutch or their cup
high and drunk while the hour hand is running laps
if you sleep your whole life you wake up to a dirt nap
the family structure is faulted
dads addicted, mom tricking while granny singing take me to the water
these little ones are crazy spraying shots indisriminate
they're the grandchildren of the crack epidemic
the 80s was crazy the 90s was grimey
and the past decade was more like an insane asylum
they follow fools by the flock, while righteous men get mocked
Lord I'm listening in case you tell me to go build an ark
when you hear the growl from the stomach,and feel the pain from the hunger
poverty and crime combine like lightning and thunder
hopelessnes and despair that can break a man quick
have him ready to break all 10 commandments
the youth are heat holding like wolves in sheeps clothing
and all he want is more of what he's smoking
in less than a heartbeat he'll stop your heart beat
then write a song to brag about it over a hot beat
the streets have a cruel set of rules and guidelines
he wanted to be a millionaire but lost his life lines
trust in the wrong one the outcome dissatrious
those fake friends will front in your face and back stabya
disloyalty in your circle can hurt you
plus your enemies are lurking to push the knife in further
where a simple robbery can easily become murder
because their young and their dumb and in love with the sound of a burner
Big Billy and his dog named Sog were walking around the Forest of Fog
When all of a sudden The Devil appears from behind a tree
The Devil says “OK which one of you is coming with me? And don’t say neither because I won’t agree, now make your minds up fast, whose new home will be in hell? ”
Now Sog barks loud and The Devil just sighs and Big Billy thinks ‘I know lets run and hide’ but as he looks down he notices together both his shoelaces are tied.
The Devil laughs “Ha! Do you think I’m thick? I’m wise to every silly trick, now make your mind up fool which one of you is coming with me? ”
Big Billy says “what if I give you silver and gold instead of either of us two, we’re both tired and old, wouldn’t you prefer gifts of jewellery? ”
The Devil roars “I’m The Devil son, why would I need silver and gold from anyone, now for the last time which one of you is coming with me? ”
Big Billy drops to his knees to pray, The Devil scoffs “too late it’s your judgement day, God owes me one soul and sadly for you I’m calling the favour in”.
“OK take Sog” Big Billy says “I offer you my one true loyal friend, take him he can live with you forever in hell”.
“You’re not much of a friend” The Devil hisses “now quickly with the last hugs and kisses, then climb that tall tree and hang Sog from it by his own lead”
Big Billy does as The Devil says and as he does somebody notices, it’s a passing policeman and he’s marching towards the tree.
The policeman yells “what the hell have you done? You’ve killed your dog, you’re an evil one, now explain yourself then I’m taking you with me”.
Big Billy cries “The Devil made me do it, he was here a moment ago I swear he made me do it, please believe me I didn’t want to kill my loving Sog”.
Now The Devil took two souls that day, to an insane asylum Big Billy was taken away, spouting Devil tales no one would ever believe.
Now to live with the guilt of killing Sog, his one true friend, his loyal dog, if only he had offered himself to The Devil that day.
Is the world turning into a huge maximum insecurity prison or a global insane asylum. or perhaps a used mousetrap. Or maybe a used rat trap. snap!!!! there is a choice.
Send Help! I’m trapped in an Insane Asylum!
Well most of the time, and although there is only the two of us here
The other inmate, for therapy, has put me on a programme of day release
Where I am permitted to go to work, pay the running costs and deal with the day to day ills
Of running this centre to house me and him, allegedly people with conditions of the mind
However he swears it’s only me who is insane and it is he is the one who is just fine
(Although I’ve heard that’s a symptom of those who are deranged)
But when I am back on site the other inmate despite me doing everything that’s required to complete my day release work therapy
Which keeps the centre for the inexcusably insane live, behaves like a real jerk
In fact his behaviour is strange all round like someone who’s buried his head in the sand
And doesn’t seem to want to come out....(I’m not convinced he’s not the one who’s out of his mind)
This other inmate looks familiar those blue eyes and light brown hair
Although he insists he is not insane and should not be there....
Yet he never leaves the centre for the mad and deranged (apparently that’s my diagnosis anyway)
And there’s something about me being removed from reality?
That I ‘just don’t get it!’ (Although he never explains it – preferring to communicate by just huffing puffing and looking grumpy - a language without words I cannot understand)
Yet isn’t it me who leaves the centre for the mentally insane to go on my day release work therapy every day? I don’t get it I think that’s because (so the other inmate says) it’s me who is insane
So while I am on my day release scheme he stays within the asylum walls alone
Waiting for who knows what? Although his therapy seems to involve something....
I think he calls it ‘Facebook’? Apparently it’s a great place where online he is 18 again and not 36, which fixes everything!
(Please proceed to part 2 - thank you)
PTSD, this is nothing that's new,
it's just a new label to stick on you
They now blame it on the wars today,
unless for your trauma they have to pay.
Then all of a sudden, it changes it's name,
and you are accused of the malingering game.
So you lost an eye, arm or a leg or two,
that's happened for years, it's nothing new.
No one over the years ever tried to explain,
when you scream and shout they say your insane.
You could fight and yell until you were numb,
then they hid you away in the insane asylum.
Now in the 21st century, they start to see,
that your moaning and griping is reality.
Your suffering can't be swept under the mat,
too many now shouting, we deserve better than that.
We were beaten, spit on, blown up and abused,
why should we take this, we're not the accused.
We did our duty as we were ordered to on the day,
now all we ask for is a sense of fair play.
Years ago when into a corner we would flee,
from years of molestation and depravity.
Whether your a child or have already grown old,
you have a story that needs to be told,
If your in authority listen to me please.
This pain hidden inside is not a disease
© Dave Timperley 19 August 2016
"Doth if not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?"
Close to my heart you came
When of you I learned of horror
How you were locked to tame
The depression trapped though error
In insane asylum
Years of electro shock treatment
Made her even more glum
Her writing helped with this ailment
Misdiagnose illness
How could those doctors make error
Despite works reflect giftedness
Janet Frame's poems "The Pocket Mirror"
Quote is from:
"The Passionate Reader To His Poet"
Written by:Richard Le Galliene
Contest: The Passionate Reader
Sponsor: Constance~My Dear Heart~
Janet Frame
A New Zealand Author
She left a foundation to help young writers..
A silent trip to the past
The memory of a lost battle
A sign of weakness
Fake smiles surround us
Green slyly decorates the walls
Enclosed hospital
No way to escape a fornicated cage
A lunatic they claim
Needle into the skin
Samples of blood
Is she on drugs?
No caffeine
Afraid we'll go crazy
Talks of religion
Talks of theories
Talks of salvation
They don't know in what waters we lurk in
A cry for help
The uneasy stares
Checked upon every minute
'Watch out, they'll commit suicide'
Us, crazy?
No, only realists
Death is around the corner, why not choose when?
False stories
False emotions
We need to get out of this hell hole
Going away from that prison
A smirk on my face tells them they've been fooled
So long suckers
Here's to your false treatments
Have you ever been lost?
Lost to the point where you didn't know which way to look.
Which direction to point your feet? And every street looked the same?
Have you ever lost yourself in a transcendental feeling where you felt that up was down,
And down was up?
A constant wonderment where you couldn't wait for the next moment to come?
A split second that turns into addiction- a moment that feels like your first kiss?
The moment your mouth waters almost out of control,
Wandering about in your garden of thoughts. Replanting every seed. Harvesting the fruit fresh grown by the sun.
Have you ever lost control of your breath?
Hyperventilating into a circumstance where time itself has gotten away
And you weren't at all bothered?
To relive all of the feelings that feel like only yesterday.
Mere seeds that are scattered into the very garden that has become root of where you truly felt your happiest.
A moment where you left your bookmark at home and revised a whole chapter of your favorite book with the biggest smile?
If at all you've ever been this lost, you deserve to be locked inside an insane asylum.
Because most people need a passport to visit the things that truly make them happy
Nutty grandpa president
is talking crazy uncle Donald again
His little Chucky thumbs
is tapping epithet tweet nonsense
Batty grandpa’s been
grumpily sucking
on the hate hot sauce bottle
stashed in his KKK closet
Now he’s sporting a Commander-in-Chief cap,
dressed in a wrinkled birthday suit
Churlish grandpa wanna blow the nuclear candles out
in his Oval padded room
He’s trying to smear his coconut-frosted
pejorative German chocolate cake
on every African looking face
Calling Doctor Strangelove and nurse Annie Wilkes Misery,
bad Grandpa is verbally pooping all over the place
His anti-social, mood swing meds
is scattered everywhere on the bed
Nutty grandpa prez
is a stable genius he says
But his schizophrenia behavior
is open and shut caged rage ... Jekyll and Hyde
Hannibal Lecter ... American Gothic suicide
Old Grandpa says
young women love him like Frankenstein’s bride
His paranoid soul
got a misogynist itch
in it’s nether parts
Curmudgeon grandpa claims he’s really rich,
and has an Ebenezer Scrooge heart
Nutty grandpa prez don’t like no immigrants
who came from where he ain’t
Straight jacket truth wraps him wrong,
he loves to swear that he’s no saint
Crazy grandpa just wanna roam the West Wing halls at night,
cursing at everybody left and right
His angry autocrat ticker just wanna be dictator loved
with family suck-up sniveling loyalty
Cuckoo grandpa flew his nest egg eyes over someone in the staff,
whose nurse Ratched mirror image greedy
Nutty grandpa president just got another person fired
for improper cleansing backside kissing
And the raucous din,
rising from the voter base-ment,
means it’s electoral shock therapy time again
So lock the border doors —
keep it dissent quiet, dum-dum
Czar grandpa prez don’t like all that democratic noise
Silence of the lambs,
that soothing lullaby hum
Is the sweet sound
that calms his Joker tweeting thumbs
Rest your rage, nutty grandpa prez:
Uneasily snore deeply,
wearing your Mad Hatter MAGA brim
(keep having more troubled, neo-Nazi policy dreams
of Making America Great Again)
As the White House hospice staff is issuing
M.A.S.H unpatriotic greetings
to Parallel reality refugees
seeking insane asylum ...
Welcome, to the Oval Sanatorium
A curse upon the gods to break
How to become an enlightened player 101
something to study and pick apart
A royal Joke of political actors
surrounding one fool
teaching spies
and politicians
how to make global friends
and preachers how to preach
(ever been to the insane asylum?)
The protest against innocence
sold short to drugs and insanity
guns and wars of **** psychology
New age Nuns
Psychobabble witchcraft chant
Haunting the drug lords
as he leads the sphere of influence
to salvation
Diffing to the devil
musical conspiracy solved
Dreams of Jesus
and a masterpiece of the gods
(come on HollyWood!!!
Do It!
Show me!
Tell me!
what's the perfect life?)
The mental patient who isn't crazy
but a metaphor
with a political king's court nightmare
philosophizing psychology
like an originator of thought
keeping no diary
as everyone around him does it for him
do the pieces fit?
protesting drugs and guns?
did anyone get it?
did anyone notice me?
did anyone hear the message?
have i been received?
am i the perfect life?
what some call insane, i call mental creativity
while some stay normal, i chose to plead insanity
to be normal is confinement of the mind
to be insane is true freedom of the mind
my insanity can be shown in many ways
by various actions or words on a page
my words alone can show you mental freedom
as i let u into my mind, the real insane asylum
my creativity goes beyond human sight
my words cut deeper than a thief in the night
my poetry leaves people sick in the brain
so most would call me poetically insane
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
Mute, and bitter silence
Is all I’ll ever hear
For this emptiness confines me
And makes me pull my hair
I cannot forget him
For he took the last of my heart
I will always miss him
My brain all torn apart
I hope I get visited
That my parents once again
Come see their lonesome daughter
In this insane asylum
It gets pretty boring
Sitting in this padded chair
But useless I try roaring
Because they have taken away my air
I guess I will go now
For my nurse has come with my meds
I will be pretty bored now
That I lost my only friend
I hope you come and see me again
But of course you’ll be here soon
For my little friend up in my head
Me and him share a room
We share our padded chair
And we sneak in little breaths
They try to take away my friend
But the meds wear off instead
So only for a couple hours
I’ll have to sit by myself
For my little friend
Will surely come out
And start talking again