Best Lunacy Poems
Excerpt From Wikipedia: “Propaganda is like advertising in some ways. For example, it uses the mass media to spread its ideas.”
I see propaganda. Is it just me?
It’s everywhere – especially today.
To see it now, go turn on your tv.
It’s right there, and it will not go away.
False science; half-baked truths; it’s on the news.
I see propaganda. Is it just me?
Fear-mongering’s one tactic that they use
to get at citizens emotionally.
I’m sick to death of all the lunacy!
Death and numbers with your minds they feed.
I see propaganda. Is it just me?
A lot of it’s about Big Pharma’s greed.
Vaccines are not the answer. That’s a sham.
Truth is being censored incessantly.
They’d have you be a sacrificial lamb.
I see propaganda. Is it just me?
Dec. 6, 2020 for Silent One's Catharsis Poetry Contest
Listening to voices,
living in my head, they
lambaste my troubled mind,
leaving me no peace. I
laugh, cry, scream for them to
let me go! There's no hope.
Life spins out of control.
3/16/17
LOVE AND LUNACY
As the universe streams moonbeam vibrations;
Beyond brave blue skies dreams are tossed about.
Clouds linger to infiltrate the threatening calm
Dangerous moons practice divination while waxing or waning
Exuding more or less power,effecting evil attitudes of moods.
Fondness withers as an under-watered rose.
Guises itself as sanity, instability rolls her childish eyes.
How such contempt shown as civility is more than cruel to me.
I often wonder why dreams get tossed about near spring.
January, February,seems to balance a tolerated gloom.
Keeps the quiet calm in March, until the waxing the new alluring moon.
Lunacy and love lurks in minds, as cosmic scales weigh-in gravity's pull
March introduced the full moon preparing for the for the Solar eclipse Of April.
Now that adoration has given birth to love, and it's shackles we praise the love.
Of the shackles - lets speak of the shackles that comes with the snares of loves traps.
Promises of forever gagging in the throats of unkempt dedications.
Quicksand, quickening underfoot, love suffocating instincts of Sanity.
Realities of loves lunacy, hoping we could bottle up the good times and save them.
Saving the good times for the bad times testing the power of the mind.
Testing loves abilities under the new lunar moon..hysterical levels of confusion
Universal melodies soothes the carnal mind, bonds together gods and goddesses of love.
Venus vibrations penetrating, piercing arrows, into zones of over zealous lust.
Wanton lust parading as Love causing mental confusion.
Xor gate of your natural instincts and logic wrestle, married now are love and lunacy.
Yet for just a taste of desire, or a semblance of love from you would complete me.
Walking lunatic I am, forever dancing, to the edges of this fanatical world.
Xylophones flowing universal drumbeats keeps me dancing cautiously past the loopholes.
what can i see -- but that which my eyes let me?
what can i hear -- but that which my ears let me?
what can i feel -- but that which my skin lets me?
and within my very sanity;
what can i think -- but that which my language lets me?
and that which is beyond my eyes, my ears, and my skin?
and beyond my language?
what of It?
bubbles rippling through pure noise.
can anything grasp?
i crave so much.
but nothing holds.
like sand through a sieve.
lunatic's lunacy's not stubborn, stubbornness causes lunacy
The ticking, etching the central location
Talking about something
Talking about nothing
To feel
Or not
A thought, a question
Will this dare leave me now?
I can’t see my world it has gone blind
Where I look and to what I find
Passages of time
Knowing the purpose
Or not knowing
Hide it quick its showing
They cannot know me
For if they do they shall be sickened be on compare
For so long you’ve been my friend
So don’t fail me now
My paper, my pen in my hand
A place to run to
A dream to dream
The ticking, etching the central location
The writer's scream
Lunatic Lunacy
Let there be no doubt—the human mind is a curious
and most fragile entity in and of itself in all situations.
The border line between sanity and lunacy speaks to
the fate that some of us in our mortal world must face.
A troubled spirit, by the very hand and intent of God,
speaks to a cruelty that’s not worthy of the Almighty.
A nibbled mind over time may reveal a state of true
insanity that speaks to and reveals a human tragedy.
The state of human lunacy gives our white-coated
doctors something to ponder in this so crazy world.
A lunatic may indeed suffer from a state of incurable
lunacy—yet, no wonder, look at the world we live in.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
June 6, 2021 (Couplet)
A full African figure
Is how I can describe her
The Joy of seeing her
Is it not to be found
In her leaving as they drool
Her face contemplative
And easy grace mixed with charm
A voice tantalizing as she browses
I think she is on Tiktok now..
Fala.. she jokingly calls me
When my teasing's are too much
The Joy of a platonic friend
Is to be found in altruism and loyalty
Did I mention shes from a background unrated
Joy easy is her name and being a constant friend
I desire the playful talk, flirting's, and daily teasing's
Scream a blaze in passing fashion
tear the velveteen tapestry
of Luna’s anthracite passion
rake nails of rainbow majesty
on the depth of night’s travesty
reveal, revel, shine in the dark
leave lingering trace of lunacy
for night, oh night, has not the lark.
Contest: Hutain This One
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Your beautiful visage envelopes me
In my darkest hours
I stare into your waxing glow
Can you stay a little longer?
I count the hours each day
Till our next meeting under the stars
So badly do I want to hold you
Why are you so far away?
I know one day we will converge
And I can wait a little longer
As the days become months
My love will not wane
Just as your light will never dim
There is meaning in my psychosis
So the doctor said in his diagnosis
Feral smiles from lupine eyes
The yellow moon hangs in the skies
Four white walls, a padded cell
For the mind demented of hell
Mid-day delusions and razorblades kiss
Parchment skin and bloody lips
Monsters lurk inside my head
Hide from the fluorescent lights overhead.
The doctor awaits me scalpel in hand
Dissect my brain doctor, but you’ll never understand
The parasites host never even knows
And sanity will decompose.
One day soon
Like a monkey on a spoon
I shall drink myself a tot of rum and declare myself a loon
Then slowly go a dancing
Empty in my heart
Leaping and a singing
Through the silent inert dark
A smashing through the streets I’d go
Crying all the time
My head would break
My eyes fall out
I’d be mad you know
Mad and horror sublime.
Lover’s Lunacy
Ah, togetherness
compressed hearts beating as one
salt water kisses linger.
How can I miss you
wave to you love’s bon voyage
if you will not go away.
8/10/2017
submitted to – Oh how I miss you – poetry contest
At the behest of the druid
Camped in my vicinity
I analyse and sanitise the fluid
Whose viscosity flatters the dignity and sanity
Whose circumference and impedance
Exceeds the threshold
I set for the reactance and insistence
Meant to withhold
Uncontrolled leakage of hatred
Unleashed with total abandon
With any venom spread and shred
By the lunatic don
Who concocted and fabricated
A subterfuge in a bid to enslave
My mind in a desiccated
Prison where as a slave
I stand no chance
My freedom to recover
If perchance
I should in the end discover
The secret potion and elixir of perennial youth
In very high demand in top society where it is sought after
By an uncouth tooth
Whose sardonic laughter and chatter
Turns and burns mere mortals into eunuchs
Favoured by head shrinkers
In experiments where spooks
Reveal the mystery longevity thinkers
Vaunt as the new frontier
To life beyond one hundred years
Which wipes off a tear
From faces petrified by fears
Senility runs down spines
Bent in an arc
Reminding folks of evergreen pines
Swaying in the wind when flak
In an overdose torpedoes
Illusion entertains
As the lunatic druid slams doors
Shut to incinerate curtains
Where I cringe
Wince
Disillusions I singe
As sanity detractors give up their losing battle eversince.
Once upon a fantasy- of meat and potatoes and gravy
I closed my eyes- and saw a memory.
(but opened them again to watch TV.)
Poetry can be whatever you want it to be
except a definition in a dictionary.
Poetry can be found in the twinkling of an eye
after eating that whole 10,000 calorie pie!
Poetry is our theory of reality.
(the idyllic schematic of the way things ought to be)
seen through the painted windows of memories.
(in this poem they’re called hallucinomeries)
Where streams had fish that ate your worms
and roads had forks that ate your dreams
when you were just a tiny tadpole trying to solve a Rubic’s cube.
Poetry leaves its indelible stains of dejavu ripping through your veins.
Hidden deep in an outer protective layer of mazes holograms and typing paper.
Or poetry can simply be- anything older than BigBangology!
So when the eclipse blots out the moon and sun
clocks lean backwards and monkeys chew gum,
it’s time to take a huge breath of wonderful city air
and watch your rhythmicalical poetry disappear-
like an enigma wrapped in a riddle that has run away and hid.
(which is what this poem just did)
And when the Night Thoughts reign supreme
and reality WRIghTES its final dream
us part-time astronomers-
can go back to being part-time fantasy farmers.