Best My Psyche Poems
Rake
My nails down my face
Take
Nothing from my disgrace
Fake
My smiles and place
Nails
Down my skin down my arms
Fails
To stop all the harm
Rails
Keep me back but alarmed
Pain
One succeeds the other
Name
Called but no bother
Maim
Feeling hot red and spiky
Which should I hurt, my skin or my psyche
The complexity of my mind
is a kaleidoscope of colors,
blending together with my moods,
melting with my personality.
In the state of darkness,
the murky browns and grays
swirl like a fog,
encroaching on solitude
Happiness explodes in a rainbow
of bright hues and illumination,
vivid and rich in their depths,
bursting forth across the vast horizon.
Anger beats in pools of red,
pulsing to a beat that pounds within.
Graphic splices slashing across the canvas.
Drums beating, pounding, with tempos rising.
Passion breathes in deep purples.
Magenta draws swords against indigo.
Saturation’s of sensations,
dissipating into midnight blue of release.
Serenity blossoms within orchards of green
Lime to Olive; Celadon to Sea
Flowing, drifting, soothing
Melting into a pool of contentment.
Oh spectrum of lights and shades
how you fulfill me.
Desires that form substance under your artistic palette,
absorb then scatter, reflecting my inner energies.
What are we - twins?
His original sins to forgive
His disciplines need changing
Or its off the looney bins
We're trying to re-parent this fellow
He needs mellowing out
We hope he finds new schemes
They probably come from bad dreams
He's at a very precarious junction
Very frumpy mental attitude
Fragile as Humpty Dumpty
We always hold his hand
Whenever we cross the street
Or talk about his mammy
And give him a little treat
Heaven's forbid talk about Pappy
He says didn't make him happy
He sees through child's eyes
Laughs and cries all day
Paranoid,, thinks all we do is spy
Hardly ever plays, always upset
He even believes whatever we say
Spins in circles when he tries
From whose sight he still derives
Contrives his pleasure, punishment
Since the day he was deprived
Of the knowledge of his early show
And his dreams of Marilyn Monroe
Poor boy, so long ago
Invisible to all
missed by none
hidden away by myself many a year ago
the desire to look has long since passed
where to look I no longer know
I fear myself
loathe myself perhaps
i no longer know what is real
forgotten how to look, to touch
forgotten how to feel.
Alone always but no longer aware
forever lost but no longer care
so I'll stay hidden away
best place for me
hidden away in the shadows of my psyche.
Collected thoughts drift in recollections,
emotions that are my psyche and soul;
innermost spiritual collections.
Down the path of my life I take a stroll,
contemplating surviving each sinkhole,
in peace- I find a winged oriole.
In the quiet of nature I rest- pause,
seeking relief and spiritual calm;
nature wraps me in a protective gauze.
the solitude is like a secret balm,
in my rest I recall a favoured psalm,
with revived strength I will erase each qualm.
In awareness- I am fully awake,
mindful, enlightened, perceptive and wise;
my gathered conscious I will not forsake.
I have the knowledge to detect a guise,
have an unfathomable sense for lies,
ego moral growth will bring forth this prize.
With internal repose I am well ground,
and with thoughts and awareness surrounded.
________________________
December 08, 2022
Poetry/Urban Sonnet/Within My Psyche
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1507-379-08
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written in Urban Sonnet created by Laura Loo, PS member.
Written for the Premiere contest, Thoughts rested awareness
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 12/11/2022
Fourth Place