Best Neurotic Poems
One fly flew down the Interstate
Longing to rest and meditate
Near a waterfall
Where hummingbirds call
That place where dreams anticipate.
So many sites to fascinate
His mind began to marinate.
In a field serene,
There was a latrine.
One site he could appreciate.
Mushrooms, he thought, would germinate.
He soared and did not hesitate.
Gossip he heard folks tell.
Embraced the stinking smell,
Some tasty tales to masticate…
Who did what and when they did it!
Who loves whom and why they hid it!
Written on the wall
Words in every stall
Diabolical rumors flit!
That fly flew down the Interstate.
No longer could he meditate
Near a waterfall
Where hummingbirds call
Always worried about man’s fate.
© January 30, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
An evil word casually dangling
A lie for a lie that more and more dashed the expectations
When belief and rely are questioned
When the wait became so tiring
When honesty is faint from the circulations of hope
When a release is a lawful way to step
What happened to the quietness of stage?
What happened to the boisterous voice which echoed in every corner of this head?
What had happened?
What was it?
What are you or am I looking for??
The reflection of an empty soul ...
A lost from the sheath of privacy...
A quest which ended in absence ...
And the absence will be the theme of this story ...
Masquerading neath bitter angst,
nobody loves this neurotic
Sympathize—empathize with me
pleading, bleeding, but no one listens
Though, pleasing is the clown
with Infectious Grooves
with an unbridled force of his own inertia
with Suicidal Tendencies
Led headed, heavy metals
P-o-i-s-o-n-i-n-G
‘Round goes a captive carousel
along with a frightened knight
Riding in his demented, distorted cell
donning his showy suit of armor
Skewed—an unnatural high—mortified
when in a—sunken low
blending in, the psyche trips
Blood red smears quivering lips
Cobalt blue on the eyes
transparent tears cake-up
Pearly white covers sallow skin
Makeup camouflages a face
invisible, leaving no trace
of what’s real and what’s not
Can’t hide, hide, hide!
Though smiling wide
the tears of a clown,
jagged, razor sharp
Like daggers reaching out
digging deeply into his enemies heart,
through the voices that Kiss
distant noises, don’t you dread?
Audioslave ~ release what emerges,
cease the rollercoasting, ride the waves
Tension strapped around your neck,
an Iron Maiden's necklace bounds, drowns
Lost tormented soul
still, desperation painted black
reeks in perspiration
Perform! In Central Park
He who has no options,
in dismay
One will love
One will hate
One can play
with his, Madness
I told my hubby I would never get a puppy ever again,
but hey, aren’t they supposed to be a woman’s best friend?
So I scooped up Brady in my arms one warm June day,
brought him home with my daughter Ella to laugh and play.
He was a shy pup, until the day he seemed to go crazy,
started gnawing fiercely on his leg, it really did amaze me!
He’d fall asleep on and off with his leg in his mouth; weird!
him becoming oddly neurotic like us I really feared!
I gently went to him to pick up his sobbing wet puppy paw,
and guess what, you’ll never believe what I actually saw!
Crunchy peanut butter embedded up and down his thighs,
I should'a never got a puppy! (I very soon realized.)
I guess that afternoon Ella was making peanut butter and jelly,
her hands got all messy and she went to pet his golden belly.
He chewed in between naps and even fell asleep that night,
with his back leg in his snout holding it peanut buttery tight!
*true story about my puppy (he's 9 months old) the picture says it all*
February 28, 2018
My head is swirling with a million thoughts.
Wondering are they coming to get me?
What will I do if I get caught?
I can not go yet I am too young.
I will never surrender to the likes of you.
You are the filth that I have been trying to forget.
You are the abscess that I want to expunge.
You are the reason I am in the state I am in.
I do not care what happens but you will not control me any longer.
Maybe I am neurotic but at least I am not psychotic like you.
showering in the virgin rain
apparent angles of discrimination
perfectionist is a neurotic
she was dancing shamanically
wild rejoicing in the
birth of a wild
mushroom
purulent phlegm is a tonic too
supernumerary bands of light
no one is perfect
nothing is perfect
it is disease
she was sleeping now
at the shore of peace
10.39 am
july 19 2016
Magdalene in panic by a slight breeze down effigy corridor flailing about in dream
state frustrated and wailing in foot steps of a stigmatic addict. She tremble's a
testament to the maze of natural order shes crucified and damned before the
congregation picked to bare the malicious sin of man. Elevated and distressed
washed in filth conceived never to breathe, erotic a commodity to exploit this
prodigy trap her in greed and give her sovereignty. Retain and drain the
monstrosity destroy her for these atrocities control through agony lust through
touch callous through mistrust. In ruin never again will forsaken prayer begin.
Latent disease
people who live all anxious
viral phobia
In the neurotic's body, madness dances
A helpless victim ensnared in devil's bottle
It appears to be a spell caused by an ugly devil
But they say it's a curse of some shattered soul
But how could the innocent be cursed?
Life is miserable, and he feel it twice as much.
There will never be a day when he will not cry.
Oh, you will learn the causes of your sorrows someday.
But if the truth does not dawn on you,
If the reality is too shy to reveal itself,
Create a myth or accept a false story
Believe you are insane, and it's okay to be insane
There's a vulnerability there, there's something very potent.
For you are the one who connect the world
to what it is to be truly human,
Those daily battles to root out the pain
They never end, and neither does the pain.
When the dark curtains covers the sky
He sleeps dead with the ugly nightmares
When the curtains disappear, when the light spreads
He runs from death that he sees in the crowd
He runs everywhere to reach somewhere
He's a genius, they say, a mad genius on his way to nowhere.
Everyday, he sings a song to himself,
The song that begins with the lines that puzzle the sane,
"Aren't you the one who revels in pain and death?
Isn't it you who has the most desire for them?"
My friends tell me I'm a 'tad neurotic'
though they really mean 'totally psychotic'
So around them, I show off my 'full schizoid'
~ picking my zits while reading Freud
Buried beneath all that's grey matters,
Convoluted in the circuitry ...
Lie the tiniest, little tidbits of
Distinction, to drive us to mystery.
They seem to protrude upon our psyche,
Like a reddened thumb, stuck to a hand.
While frolicking along the subconscious,
Looking to interrupt what is planned.
As pets go, these 'peeves' outlast,
Most other thoughts that come in play.
With an enduring quality beyond a
Visit ... with a preference to stay.
My Functional Movement Disorder
Turned me into a performer.
My body becomes jerky,
And I move quirky.
My arms move spasmodic,
Onlookers may think I am neurotic.
But I am not foolish or silly,
This disorder will not kill me.
So if you see my jerks,
Know they are now my quirks.
A neurotic like me,
Unlikely to eat,
For days at a time,
Cause I'm in some dumb snit,
Or just don't give a "spit"
Eventually the hunger takes hold,
And I over react,
Or so I've been told...
And wind up ordering,
$50 worth of Chinese food,
Or pizza by truckload,
Depending on mood...
And such hunger was so over gauged,
Soon my food budget, is far outstaged...
And that order must last me 2 weeks,
Till I'm sick of that type of food,
And avoid it for months,
Till the next craving
Again makes me a dunce...