Best Maniacally Poems
You realize your wild side is no longer napping
Fully aware you are trying to sneak away
Leaving her in a suitcase or closet
With the fancy miniskirt she loves to wear.
You realize your wild side is listening when
She flings your thigh-high-look-at-me-boots
Onto the bed and sneers at you,
And you cannot stop looking at your make up case.
You realize you are out of your depth when you look
In the mirror and you are wearing your "come hither"
smile and your Wild Side is laughing maniacally
As you prance out the door, ready to party
In all the ways you said you would never party again
After the Wild Side did the same thing to you last night
And the three nights before that. She has you, and you
Have never felt more sexy.
Categories:
maniacally, girlfriend, woman, women,
Form:
Free verse
Invisible predators steal my soul
taking me to a bowl of stale potato chips
dunking me down beneath the cigarette butts
That were not ever well-hidden in the bottom
Plunking me down firmly with their beady
little hands and their alien eyes. Laughing maniacally
while I thrash around, trying to get free
Then they grab me up having a better idea
And plunk me face down, bound but not gagged,
Which would have been invariably better,
into a smallish bowl of cold, half-eaten oatmeal.
I die ungracefully, and irritated.
Categories:
maniacally, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Bereaved time of maudlin despair,
soul darkness with words that writhe
in a poignant capitulation
to doom, gloom, death.
Dates traverse a calendar
to end times, 2012 years or other
never-again-to-appear numbers.
Eons maniacally march
ever-advancing to oblivion.
Weary world waits
to puncture the promise of youth
turned chilly down the spine
of never-ending war lists.
Mother Moon and Father Sun
watch patiently as a plethoric potency
of weapons spirals
in unspeakable spasms
towards doom, gloom, death.
Categories:
maniacally, death
Form:
Free verse
She was a daring escape artist,
secret agent in her own maniacally
complicit central intelligence gravitas,
gritting darkly ravaged plug-in gray matter
weapon of choice - unsystematic wordy tumult
seducing unhinged recondite translations
Categories:
maniacally, allegory, emotions, hyperbole, identity,
Form:
Free verse
Few things have done more damage than love,
Maniacally pursued as if a gift from above,
There should be a moment we tire of its abuse,
And with courage attempt to rid ourselves of.
The choice to leave this heavy yoke is of no use,
It is one from which very few can be set loose,
Still we choose to go on praising this curse,
Scanned writings will not mention loves misuse.
We are afraid to admit this ultimate joy is adverse,
And is nothing but a cruel attempt to rehearse,
Our death as if we’re naught but a beast,
To be used and discarded as evolution’s hearse.
To admit this about this transcendent part of our feast,
Lured with honey then mocked as love ceased,
As we bleed with only the agony love can bring,
We rise, dust off and go forward but decreased.
Oh I know how wonderfully love makes us sing,
Til crushing words come, “I’m moving on, taking wing,”
But then, with objective eyes, you can finally see.
Your love is uncovered as a rather common thing.
These former loves cannot be souls who together are free,
For friends depend on values with which they agree,
While love exists without any fit for the glove.
Its “perfection” ends, t’was always the way it just had to be.
Categories:
maniacally, body, break up, depression,
Form:
Rubaiyat
Nay, despite failing to make the grade,
this bluesy well red, duff mute
average white band hit,
hard knock school alumnus
jack of all trades master of none bumped along
pot hole cratered steep pitch
while riding the bus
bullies skewered kosher me all, cannibalized
carte blanche timid ego
brandishing exacto knife
threatening jugular, cuss
sing maniacally pulling out all stops
going headstrong for this doofuss
Embracing premonition making me mincemeat
vis a vis via, Atilla the Hun plus
Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore
after diet of worms
as hors d'oeuvre hug guess
if given a choice, would prefer Loch Ness
monster, or the whale that swallowed Jonah,
either t'would be a quite im press
heave feted feat, versus being poached,
roasted, skewered burnt alive
perhaps sautéed to feed additionally,
the Gothic (Jacks sin) five
the latter adorned with
Bandolier prototype, whence they would jive
to Vandals mess sigh ya,
these last yet another contra band
to play on command, or risk not being
he gee beegee bing a live
all thee above iterated blather spluttered
as punishment against revive
ving human sacrifice by pence hoove lee donning
a new jersey wordlessly trumpeting, and strive
ving assiduously as a one man lobbyist,
and aye willingly negotiate
to take more'n one wive
even though that would be big o' me decor,
thus a last minute reprieve given
without axing por favor
and black keys handed over
to Holy Roman Empire in hoar
rubble ruins (over the Weeknd), thus brutish nasty,
and short tempered surprisingly
(boot not prematurely) ejaculating bon jour
foo fighters actually (grand
aery an nah - did a three sixty)
feting me guest of hun or,
boosting self esteem, the first time
since being a kid in a candy store
which poetic digression
did make quite a dee tour,
and bringing detente amidst marauding
village people hoop reef furred war.
Categories:
maniacally, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Free verse
Bipolarized
Frantic partly paranoid the voices to avoid
Edgy and unstable like a Chinese wind up toy
Maniacally depressed a tragic life long mess
Always worrying about what is to worry about next
Clinically not sane a rollercoaster ride brain
Sadness killed sorrow leaving a terrible stain
Unsafe and skeptical no term that is medical
Kidnapped on vacation in padded rooms of Hotel Federal
Written for Contest: "Rhyme Battle IX" 10/16/17
Categories:
maniacally, crazy, deep, prison, psychological,
Form:
Rhyme
Her tears run down her face as she backs away.
The cold, hated anchor of betrayal drags you beneath.
The harsh, razor covered kiss, runs down your arm, slicing deep.
The metal clang and spark, peircing your ears.
The shackles claw and tear as they embed themselves into your skin sinking their fangs into your blood.
Each second your skin grows pale, life slowly being sucked from your heart.
All hell breaks lose as sanity dies, metal slams against the ground, courtesy of your thrashing.
Your body slams against the ground, the blade bursting into your mind.
A dark red geyser is formed, painting your body all around.
Your eyes leave your head rolling away.
Her hand grasps your heart and feeds it to your soul, laughing maniacally as it chokes.
With one last twitch, your body lays still, the thought of you insane, gone away.
Categories:
maniacally, betrayal, death, grief, horror,
Form:
Free verse
Gripped by the throat with tension
Mad aggression pumping thru my veins
Changing my complexion
Pressing thru the world of small selections
Fencing off the other feelings of oppression
And while I'm resting
I don't wanna wake
But once my eyes open no time to hesitate
To much bullshyt to escape
It's not like I was born with a cape
And even when matters are crazy but I refuse
Not to be great
I refuse not to turn the hands of fate
And make the universe concave my way
Been a struggle since birth
Trying to live with these lies
Told even since I put the me in time
And now I got a family that's mine
And I must throw away all pride
And keep the dream that I breathe life to alive
Hungry for what's never told was mine
And told all the things that are above my level
That's fine
Sit and watch as I not climb but claw to the top
Kick scream and holla at the stars
That like to play against the odds
Of the campaign of my cause
Causing me to fall
Causing me to look forward and back to remember where I came from
Causing me to wayward this and carry on
For that's all I know
That's all that anyone been telling me
How I'm wrong
How I'm slow
How I'm the one that love doing it the hard way yo
How I'm the one that will fall flat on my face
Lose my place
Lose the initiative in which I started this whole thing
Have me missing my template
But they don't see I'm God sent
Regardless
Of all the bullshyt curse words and bombardment
I will be in undeniable
Came far from where it was that I begin
Even with snow storms and hail pours I'm destined to win
Even if I'm straight drowning in gin
And gasoline was part of the triathlon that I had to swim
The king is crazy
So for my babies I will swim
I will seek opportunity
Watch it put away it's jewelry
Sit back maniacally
Schematic the whole the place
Plottingly
Run up n the place also smiling
With no gun on the waist demolishing
Any and everything
That's my plan
To overstand
And not undermine what my mind will conceive
For it's what I can grasp in my hand
The whole damn planet
Water sky clouds and granite
And if too much for me to hold
Just u watch me manage......peace
Categories:
maniacally, crazy,
Form:
Rhyme
I said to my son,
He said back to me,
To be honest with us,
I'm worried
We want to be happy
while bypassing disciplines of left-brain healthy
is not too right-brain cooperatively sappy.
But, after my ancient lifetime of trying
directly for prosperous happy
that may or may not lead to left-brain healthy,
that may or may not lead to right-brain wealthy,
I hope you can benefit
from what we redundantly say,
more than what I've actually done
in front of you
and behind your back,
confronted you,
denied,
and what I've failed to take left-with-right back.
We want to be happy
and to win wealthy left-brain ego-fame
however flashingly synaptic
even at the price of ignoring natural/spiritual resilient healthy
is not all that win/win polyanna maniacally sappy
nor lose/lose despairingly immoral crappy
So I have done
and we long to be done
with such lose-happy and lose-wealthy self-prophetic life confusion
profusion
contusion,
Of unhappy cognitive left
and disaffected unwealthy right
dissonance
provokes short-term wounded choices for mere satiation
because long-term resiliently healthy happiness
feels too right-brain prominent sappiness
suffering left-brain crappiness
Both un-together remaining mutually blind
to integrity of global win/win GoldenRule manners,
uncrappy and unsappy,
too remotely not experienced on our shared big mainframe
but maybe flimmery-glimmers of light emerge
in more everyday lighter healthy,
wealthy,
and wise here/now
space/timeless moments.
To be honest with you,
I'm worried
we want to know abundant happiness
without accepting and committing to our win/win integrity
as ego/eco-systemic
left/right cooperatively integral
Red/BlueGreen
yang-fire/yin-water
holistic nonsectarian
non-partisan
non-violently communicating health vulcanizers,
optimizers,
re-creators,
transubstantiators,
creolizers,
With happy inter-hemispheric ego/eco-logicality
speaking dipolar bi-loyally
in cooperatively resilient
health/wealth solidarity
Which I think everyone would regeneratively agree
is not too sappy
nor too degeneratively crappy
to remain responsibly happy
despite all our co-arising snappy facts
without contextual slappy feelings.
Categories:
maniacally, analogy, caregiving, happiness, health,
Form:
Political Verse
Smack crackle pop The fire was throwing herself
She would smoulder occasionally into grey
Then revive herself with orange flame shoots,
delighting me and the other kids.
These kids were pretty much strangers to me.
I was re-thinking my decision
to tag along with my cousins, who were wearing
unusual faces in the shadows of the fire.
A loud popping sound came from behind. "Was that a gun?"
Some of us laughed nervously. Probably a deer walking in the woods,
A camp counselor suggested. Sure....
The tents were starting to look maniacally mean
Same time next year?
My cousin whispered into my ear. I sat mesmerized,
staring at the campsite that always brings me home.
Of course! I whispered back. This was only my thirteenth
year at Lake Red Haw. Why would I change any of this?
An owl hooted a friendly hello.
And I smiled.
Knowing I would take this memory to heaven.
Categories:
maniacally, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Narrative
Anguish I feel, in decisions once there made
Sharper the pain, then a cut throats blade
So difficult it is, to sever a link
A most bitter pill, a swiftly poisoned drink
Hearts broken, anger left was my faulting
Fates cruelty of lost connection, the final resulting
The feelings in my direction, rightly deserved
My need for affection, I felt so drastically underserved
I tried my very best to show where I'd stand
Not maniacally thought out or purposely pre-planned
So difficult it is to sever a connection
It was not easy to do, looking back in reflection
Never easy to suffer, a one-of-a-kinds, now rejection
Categories:
maniacally, angst, break up, divorce,
Form:
Free verse
Still Life for Words in C Sharp Minor
They strolled the shady avenues
under a noon sun in the summer,
smelling the emergent gardenia bulbs
spinning maniacally in their mastery;
so they gathered up the white flowers
with practiced deliberate fingers,
bringing them to their stuffy noses,
to breathe in their exhalations of perfume spice.
They ventured askew with unstated intent,
roused by infinite atoms within,
to an open screen door,
wherein they saw intense sunlit explosions,
filtering through as determined light creatures,
and pulled through moaning space
for a secret rendezvous,
a shady sojourn of weird curiosities,
enacted behind a single closed door,
and other astonishments never before seen,
much less imagined.
These invisible wisps have entered in now,
with their practiced rituals and protocols,
known only to the obscure and the crazy.
They seek to find a still darkness;
Instead, they receive a green carpet,
stretching from room to room,
with old worn furniture gawking,
leads them to the regal dining room where
a crystal chandelier made of dull glass
hangs limply from the pale ceiling.
And flashing cloudless before them,
a curtained-spreading window,
exposing for the both to see,
a wide angular swath,
of shimmering gardenia blossoms.
Categories:
maniacally, romance,
Form:
Free verse
In Boo Land ...
Every gagged mouth is covered
by a grave reeker hand
Raven black-cloaked, vomit foul specter
maniacally sob laughing
Someone’s been tilting the tomb bottles again,
tipping thru the Pet Sematary growling
Inflicting fear is the feral joy of the frightening
Scream suffering
is the howl pleasure of the torture pain
Boo Land,
welcome woe where random killing is a sure thing
Enter his morbid world, if you dare ...
cross the sanity threshold,
if you’re not scared
Boo Land
is an ostrich step out of the front door
Another gun murder
that’s not background check paid for
Fear is the underworld coin of this casket realm
It buys a lot of living dead qualms
about zombie parrot pirates perched at the helm
Scoundrel squawks with a 9mm trigger beak
Green paper caws with a burial holster lease
In Boo Land
is where many a scared souls are morgue laid
Loan shark’s bullet teeth
shred the pound of flesh not vig paid
Violent crime victims don’t get timely first aid
Body spare organs are taken from the gene pool water,
to a black market with a dirty dollar $ign color
Frankie clones in the making ... it’s a steal bolt buy order
In Boo Land
is where many a scared souls are coroner silenced
Feminine intimate violations
are off the haunted frat house charts
Bad boy wolves ravishing the little miss piglets
Misogyny grope temptation,
smear threats plays a finger tool part
Licentious desires are an inappropriate side bet
It’s the same ole heinous, privilege skin crimes,
committed in dim hallowed hall shadows
Canines getting-out-of-jail-free too many times
Another lusty boo-boo is landfill covered
So the boy cried wolf when the public spotlight blare came,
and the news splattered his foster name
Everyone said it was a small-town shame,
that a serial breath-taker said mommy issues was to blame
In Boo Land,
creeping fear stealthily walks upright
The fox in the dressy suit
wanna sweet baby talk,
and coo take you
to the crypt crib at night
Don’t be afraid to
Holler Loud ... or put up a fight,
if you think they got you
in their kill shot sight
Categories:
maniacally, dark, fear, scary, violence,
Form:
Verse
dear Mr. maniacally-raving-mad-
repugnican-
representative
Daugaard,
if a kid in your school has a gun &
your teacher has a gun,
and the teacher fires first,
or the kid fires first &
somebody misses &
hits other kids
promoting a domino effect of a
bloodbath,
will you think then
that the idea of
putting guns in the hands of
teachers,
might’ve been the
wrong mother****ing way to go?
not quite with me yet, *******?
hmmm…
how about if your armed teacher has
a problem with an unarmed student one day &
s/he got dumped the night before,
came in drunk, may have a temper problem
that slid under the radar…or maybe,
just maybe, they are ****ing nutbags
themselves…
now that teacher pulls the trigger,
because you know what…being a teacher
wasn’t really what they had wanted to be
all their lives…instead,
they just wanted to make a mark,
secretly &
now is the time which they’ve chosen to do so…
will you regret making South Dakota the first
****ing hick state,
DUMB ENOUGH,
to arm their teaching staff
(that is, ON THE BOOKS…
yes, we know that there are dumb hick
schools out there that have already allowed
cowboy teachers to strut their stuff off the
books with guns…)?
still not with me, ****stick?
let’s put it in a little equation for you…
kid with a gun + a teacher with a gun
DOES NOT EQUAL
LESS GUNS IN SCHOOLS.
kid with a gun + a teacher with a gun
DOES NOT EQUAL
LESS VIOLENCE IN SCHOOLS.
teacher with a gun + students without guns
EQUALS
GODDAMNED
FEARMONGERING &
ALL THE MORE REASON FOR A KID TO
BRING A GUN TO SCHOOL.
Categories:
maniacally, life, teacher, teacher,
Form:
Free verse