Best Insanity Poems
Insanity or Death
Life begins with insanity~~
~Your soul is kicking and screaming,
Ready to exit with the touch of human hands.
Insanity rides on a gallant stallion ready to pant.
Hides in the mind, mourning its captive soul.
Ready to breach over holding its breath.
Projecting in and out without a guide.
Bites away at the feast, enchants for freedom.
From the lips……….....
Taking length against a world of dilemmas,
Contrasting to a never happy end.
The epidermis cover every wall of insanity.
To live, to eat, and to suffocate it determination without air.
Dramatically hallucination against its will of no wells.
Until it realizes it can drink without water.
No further needs a slumber.
The mind-bends and unfolds to ordinary jolts,
When left to human consummation.
Insincerely bidding and cutting to die in the sleep.
Is how it pleads!
Graves where dreams have no meaning.
Caves where goodness can be redeemed.
A temple of misguided fortune.
All respect lost to this infection,
The patients’ weight distracted from an antidote.
The madness begins too finds admiration-
That makes catastrophe go on and on.
The psychosis of the mind and mockeries of them will never be gone
Dictating in everything wrong,
Layers of cramped bricks, level the isolation.
Death drags its feet off into this infinite helix world.
A source of light breeding out of darkness.
"Sanity is no friend of mine!"
Insanity is earth herself,
Where there is life, there is a reason,
Where there is reason, there is madness,
Where there is madness, there you are,
Feeling nothing………………...
Lost in darkness................
~Your soul is kicking and screaming
Life ends with death~~
(first I feared life, now I fear death)
Last year, her imagination went double
so she ignored her previous schedule.
She put all her dreams inside of clear jars,
decorated with different, assorted stars.
She believed if she always kept things rounded
she would also succeed in keeping life grounded,
So, she would circle every found square
believing it demonstrated her constant care.
Plastic, colored eggs hung from her ceiling
to keep her floor from creaking and reeling.
Pale pink and bold gold stripes on her wall
recorded every received telephone call.
She worshiped and loved both the sun and moon,
but only from inside her living room.
She feared really being observed outside,
a place where stray cats were known to hide.
She always loved to dance, but during this year
she’s been dancing to music only she can hear.
All these things bring her secure nuances near,
but make her sanity less and less clear.
(one-act play)
The patient
They call it a sickness, a psychosis, an insanity, but I know: this is the leverage
by means of which I can set the wheels of the universe in motion. All I need is to find the last fragment they hide from me in the thorazine haze, and the bevel gears of this rickety old, long derelict mechanism will work again.
The medical board resolution:
“…schizophrenic… unruly… incurable, liable for drowning in the hospital’s sinkhole”.
1st psychiatrist
(looking at the sky)
Don't you think the Sun slowly moves across the sky today?
2nd psychiatrist;
It’s an illusion, my friend. It’s an illusion.
01.06.2019
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Everywhere i look i see absence,
Even past barbed wire fences,
And it seems all life is past tense.
My whole body then tenses.
Is this a prison,
Because the sight is not by choice,
Life is becoming but a vision.
Random glimpses leaves me with no voice.
I cant speak about what i feel,
Even if urged,
I cant speak because that would make it too real.
Hate not dealt with but purged.
I don't really hate... not in that way,
Its an expression of emotion too deep to tell,
The deep cauldron of hope to untouchable to slay.
Anguish only matched by the fire in Hell.
Glasses half full leave me half empty,
White noise is the right metaphor to use,
Life that's too void to tempt me.
Existence is an unsolvable puzzle yet I'm searching for clues.
Dead Roses freshly picked and sold,
In deep soil that seems too fertile,
The use of life for gain shown so bold.
My mind only seems to see deep shades of purple.
The color of insanity.
Poetry is my insanity
Poetry is my insanity,
sparks collected on flat mirrored walls,
frantic phrases floating
in a spectrum’s pulsating palette,
picturing Dali-esque icicle melted webs
and chromatic landscapes
blurring in the distance
Dancing to the demented sounds
of brain cells singing, Zappa inspired
A cappella rhythmic compositions,
ringing monotone echoes
in between Jupiter and the ghosts
counting off beat pendulum swings
on fingers and toes
Words with eyes, they see, they stare
they blink, they close,
wandering attic crawl spaces
casting neon shadows,
illuminating ideas
passed on to the next pair
lashing out as another retreats
Pulling on my heart,
squeezing every last thought of love,
oozing in blacklight ink, day-glo sunrises
of roach clip offerings on psychedelic posters,
depicting ceramic moons
fluttering midst crayon heavens
eating stardust candy…
Poetry is my insanity
and it is driving me crazy…
in the best possible way
Victims of cutting reject
trite platitudes of pity.
For the pain they feel has been
festering in them since birth.
Shards of insanity cut
into insignificance.
And reality reacts:
to bouts of low self-esteem.
Sparked by emotional needs,
panic ignites frayed, raw nerves.
And only cutting can dull
anxiety's sharpened edge.
The sound of your beating heart
increases as steel cuts flesh.
And yet, for a chance to feel,
fear slips into submission.
Relief accompanies the
trickling blood fleeing your vein.
And you feel alive, inside:
by numbing your greater pain.
I don’t believe there is such a thing as a mirror,
Because this so called reflection is not really me.
I think he is a stranger that moved into my house,
For the man that I see is somewhat, ugly.
I think he built this life size window
To spy on everything that I do
And I can tell you he is beginning pissing me off
I can feel my anger’s starting to brew
Once I moved to the side of the window
And he disappeared out of sight
What I could see a part of his room
Gave me an terrible fright
The bugger’s been to the same shop
And bought the same things I have
The bed, cupboards and lamp shades
And on the table he even has the same Sat. Nav.
I peeped into this window
With the hope to catch him off guard
But there he was looking at me
Staring just as hard
I stood in front of the loser and cussed the most colourful words
The monkey aped every action even the moving of his lips
Then it dawned on me that he wore the same clothes
In the same pose with his hands on his hips
So infuriated, I punched the window
And ended his years of peeping tom jeer
However, the bugger is now haunting me
In every glass I happen to peer
"I'm hearing images, I'm seeing songs no poet has ever painted
Voices call out to me, straight to my heart"
Cold, emotionless, and her nature, defiant
Hard to connect with as well as unreliant
A boarding school for outcasts such as Wednesday
Revenge for brother, brings on her sinister way
Dysfunctional families—ivory towers make wagers
Enrolled are lost souls and morbid teenagers
Like Arkham Asylum, a long and brutal history
Medieval mayhem come to life again in her story
Nevermore Island, Romania’s Nevermore Academy
Unconventional practices become their enemy
Designed for students with extreme personalities
Who don’t think their practices convey abnormalities
Is an all American coming-of-age supernatural
Tangled in spider silk or it’s web, which is factual?
And there it is the unscrupulous psycho-therapist
A principal’s shapeshifter and her sorceress rapist
Forcing thoughts back into some semblance of order
Werewolves, vampires, gorgons, and sirens who boarder
Are the architectural texts with applications ubiquitous
And the requisite archaic desperate mass exodus
Dark long tresses, paints it black in gothic dresses
Many who are romantic interests she addresses
Rises to an ovation with a most clever shadow dance
Sanity, reason, balance, rationality, and much arrogance
Behind the smiling facade of normality where lie derelicts
There lurks a psychopathic serial killer, and other convicts
Beyond their control, declined their world of decadence
Insanity, lunacy, madness, the outcasts show no evidence
Highly severe psychological and physical illnesses?
Or real paranormal abominations and alien devises
Guiding her are messages from the beyond with passion
Her lecture combined intellectual lucidity and compassion
Yes, Let's Do it. Election Insanity.
....................
Yes! Let us have all felons vote!
Better yet, let's muddy the "Swamp"
Have known killers run for Congress.
Perhaps, even be our President.
Indeed, the Americans have gone looney.
Must be chugging down really cheap wine.
Or smoking tons of powerful Ganga.
Don't forget the OxyContin...Whooh!
Let's believe those who work are evil.
Pit them against those who will not.
A typical Communist famous card trick,
Played by Commie crooks.
Let's knock over every statue of those who
made America great,
And replace them with un-American ingrates.
Let's replace them with killer rappers,too
Or female singers on TV, who love to
flash their woo-hoos!
And a special garden so inspired,
Dedicated to disgusting race-batters, too?
And a special duo needs one, also
Stormy Daniels and Avenatti, a dude so
falso!
The newest one to Jussie Smolett,
all made in gold.
Hope that idea. Leaves you cold!
Why heck! We took God out of schools.
Then like refards,we complain ,they don't
know the Golden rule.
No, they don't..you removed a basic tool.
And to salute the flag? Oh, no, they won't!
Flags are to be stomped on and for the
Burning?
All this sets my stomach churning.
In recent years, our government wanted
Their spies in churches.
Yes your ministers are evil don't you know?
But into a mosque, the FBI may not go.
Christians are a dangerous breed!
Really? Yes, so say all the druggies high on
speed.
This is my brief peek as what's coming down
the pike.
I find it all dismaying and not at all right.
Panagiota Romios
4/23/2019
3:2m PST
My life has been...
Egotistically hypo-manic
Systematic and tragic
Insanity looms like a ghost in the attic
Ive been in five point restraints
Because of my mental state
Ive been driven by fate
And the need to create
Somedays Im up, Im higher then high
So high above the birds that fly in the sky
Then I come crashing down, I cant help it but cry
At least its real, Im not living a lie
My state of mind is my state of affairs
I talk my truth but and see nothing but stares
I get to my knees and say nothing but prayers
I ask for help but nobody cares
No one knows- Am I the "freak" they talk about? (Yes)
No one cares- "You're nobody and no one likes you." (I know)
And no one tries- "I don't want to hear anything you have to say!" (Fine)
To see what's inside- The pain; the emotional and physical pain (It feels so wonderful)
They see the cuts- My beatiful artwork (This is never going to end)
They see the bruises- All from you... Green, Blue, Black! (What did I do wrong?)
They see the tears in my eyes- "You're so pitiful! Stop crying!" (I can't control them)
But no one ask why- Because no one cares (I'm alone indside)
They read my writings- "What's wrong with you?" (Nothing)
They think I need help- "Are you suicidal? (I plead the fifth)
They think I'm insane- "You're going to the hospital!" (Screw You!)
But then again... Maybe I am (No, I'm just dead inside)
Insanity
That insane
In the dark corner
of the narrow lane
helpless and hesitant
because she’s dumb
That insane
laughing on her voice
scratching her body,
and innocent face
blackened of
taints of madness.
A little lady in
tattered clothes
alone in crowd
searching someone
of her own.
People laugh at her
and she laughs back
with dazzled eyes
in sparkling
lights of motor cars.
Does she really
know-fast moving vehicles ?
Is she aware of her
empty stomach ?
Is she aware of her
nakedness ?
Does she feel-
strokes of sun and rain ?
Quiet in the corner
with dusty body,
sleeping on newspaper
with uncombed hair.
Scary children call
her devil but she
was scared of
own loneliness.
Wondering how her
people left alone !
Wondering at Almighty
for giving no identity !
That insane
may die some
day, free from
insane world
in same dark corner
in same lane.
------------------------
You say you want me to be free,
but really you just don't want me.
Now i'm drowning in my pain,
standing in the pouring rain.
How this fell apart is such a shame.
You made this in to some game.
You were just in it because you had some thing to gain.
Your lies are driving me insane.
It aches
Insanity – it is rich with light,
Ever lusher with shadows,
Dimly faded feelings, whispers
Welcoming the wars that come
To those who listen… it’s voice…
I know crazy
Crazy – it is like the wind,
Forever moving, never giving in
To sleep or silence,
Always flooded with sound,
Sound for those who listen…
It paints the heart in black memories,
Erasing the colors, the hues
Vibrant and rhythmic like a melody,
Sumptuous promises, poured out over,
The rising sun, as dewdrops tremble
On laughing petals, as the night fades
Into dawn…
I know crazy
It comes in many forms!
Crazy is the way a child loves a mother,
Who is always leaving, never loving, only going,
Never looking back…
Crazy is the way a silence forms inside the heart
Who knows the meaning of a panic,
That quietly floods the distance between faith and fear.
Crazy is the way the stars keep dancing,
Never silent despite the ghostlike darkness,
Who startles every dream…
Crazy is the way the ache inside never quiets,
The desperate yearning for a lover,
Who refuses love…
Crazy is the way a heart will break,
Even though its pulse is strong… its love is not wrong,
But the feeling has gone….
I know crazy, but I tone it down with the other thing I know.
And, I know it better than I know crazy…
God is great and God is steady.
He never allows my crazy to win over the hope,
Hope for everlasting peace,
Hope for eternal grace,
Hope for always – love that finds a way,
Even though crazy tries to wash the joy away,
Even though crazy tries to silence the amazement of this ordinary faith!
I know crazy… but I know even better,
The answer, the grace, the prayers for His embrace!
How bottomless you are, the lonely hell,
how dark and joyless, but the love I fell
in is much deeper. Oh, four words you said
so unexpectedly that my ink bled,
four elements, four natures of despair -
the water of my tears, the smoky air
of sleeplessness, the fire in my loins,
the earth of desperation that adjoins
insanity – the words you said in lieu
of reasons to break up: "I don’t love you".
How that can be? It was just yesterday
you vowed that… I go mad, I go astray
in most abysmal precipices of
my hell in search of you, my faithless love.