Best Perfectionist Poems
The Perfectionist is Listening
the rich are committing suicide
and taking us with them
the prosthetic limbed bastards
Fort Darwin tottering on fewer stilts
once the masters of the universe
presently picking through garbage
looking for an Icarus to pilot
some way back among the clouds
their telepathic goon squads
armed with the hard on of God
squat in the darkness of doorways
lightning strikes all around
even their machines were clairvoyant
several thousand watts went up my leg
shorting out the only attention span I own
left me perforated but not lacy
wearing all my masks all the time
fragments of self are selves
in a bulemic deconstruction
where form and content
mud wrestle incessantly for attention
on the crazy train to 3 color hell
the protagonists the antagonists
fornicators masturbators liquidators
pariahs and unlicensed poets
preaching hellstone and brimfire
apparently the ancient gods still rule
in their madhouse heaven
petulant and stupid gods
thought their figures included all the angles
sword point conversions gun point perversions
now their carcasses are steppingstones
what quirk of an infinite being
makes this burning plague village
of a planet so alone and necessary
of course none of this is protection
it's psywar out there kids
better find where they hid your dossier
mesmerized of the world unite
you have nothing to lose
but your failed methods of addressing reality
said his twisting tongue
struggling for ratings like any media
the soul cannot erase it can only go sightless
a phantom trapped in melancholy
when we were built to dance
with the twinkling stars
he finally learned to undestroy memory
being an ascended master of non sequitur
carried aloft in the arms of Mother Goose
his metabolic hurricane of why
an inferno of intrigue and superstition
our embryo-headed UFO ruling class
have me inside their fence of skulls
an investment in diagram futures
the idiots
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
So is there any meaning as this time keeps on slipping,
Is our whole world nothing more than God's little play-thing?
These people around me, are they really worth anything more?
Even when death comes, everything in time simply resets.
If it's all the same whether I were to live or die,
Then I'll choose life and push death back this time.
If I doesn't matter where I am, then I understand,
And I'll choose to leave a bit of me behind.
This future before me, it's too dark and hazy,
The past that's behind me- my heart's forever breaking.
I've had too much, why won't the pain disappear?
I just want to erase my emotions.
Loving the "Me" that's behind my name takes perfection I cannot face,
Everything blurred and murky's for the weak, feelings only trip my feet.
So then happy, sad or angry, does these emotions have a meaning?
If you don't stand up, you feel pain.
But emotions always hold so much, you know;
There's a warmth they've always held alone.
We are made of faults and flaws, no one's perfect at all,
But I'm sure that's what we call a perfect "soul."
And that perfection you search for
That's all yours, nothing less, nothing more.
Don't try to play fake, you're alright,
Just this way.
"No more pain?"
"It's okay?"
You're okay.
Don’t criticise me from this poem
You’ll understand once I bring it home
I used to love DIY I was a fanatic
But it took me a long time and drove my wife spastic
She used to curse and say you not finished yet
You’ll end up leaving it half done I bet
I got so flustered it end been true
I could not see anything through
So I’d lay there and would not budge
Watching TV stuffing my face with fudge
She’d scream at me and says get off your lazy ass
Get the lawn mower and cut the grass
You know the saying “you can lead an ass to the water but you can’t make it drink”
I’d lay on the couch staring at the TV and wouldn’t blink
Now I was not this sort of person
But she was impatient and her attitude would worsen
I was a perfectionist in my minds eye
When it came to the thing I loved doing, DIY
Now I lay here a couch potato
Watching her face go red like a plum tomato
Let's see. It's someone who
on a successful day,
frets over a second of failure or two.
A pessimist, others may say.
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Date: 20 / 01 / 2017
not having a chance to get their own birth
perfect
(having had no say in the matter), the perfectionist is thrown into the world,
where chaos reigns---
and the primary caregiver who showed up for the
job
(providing one was lucky enough to have someone show),
they do their best to keep the child out of harm’s way
they feed them, clothe them, take them to school, etc.
until that being born without a choice
(to say “screw this,” i’m not coming out!),
now has grown up---
the grown-up being is one whose emotions run wild,
and yet this particular perfectionist
tries to keep it all settled,
like it was nestled in a beautiful little box---
one kept up on the shelf &
only to be brought out on special occasions---
the perfectionist is a planner,
a control freak &
one who does not work well with failure---
early on they learn not to trust others,
because being linked to anyone or anything, even remotely resembling
attachment,
will end up bringing another’s personality into the attempt at
perfection,
and being that one perfect life is hard enough to attain,
another cook trying to make the tastiest soup,
well, it just won’t do.
so the perfectionist finds ways of self-discipline,
s/he cuts feelings off from her/himself when people get too close,
and with success in a career,
the perfectionist finds new ways of gaining freedom by
spending themselves out of situations which they do not want to
take part in---
they learn to have conversations wherein the deleting
whole parts of a seemingly complete person
in order to maintain a specific guise in any given context,
is not only routine,
but with this newly found ability comes a sense of pride,
which others attempting perfection,
may never be able to grasp.
the perfectionist hones their life
like one would a stick when carving bits & pieces away,
in order to make it look
just
exactly
like
it
should----
and yet,
the perfectionist,
like an airbrushed photo of a supermodel on the glossy cover of a
magazine,
s/he knows nothing of this impossible state s/he seeks,
because it
does
not.
Yesterday will never be like tomorrow so have no regret no sorrow. This is something you cannot see with the naked eye. This is so out of the ordinary nothing close to mundane. Some say it’s genuine and never lacking in truth. This can make you feel insane as if you are in an illusion, but you’ll never be in delusion. This makes you feel deeply rooted no longer found. This makes you take a never ending fall; so you will never hit the ground.
Many were his fans
This sixties danger man
The prisoner,of his classic cult-
Director,writer and star part,
His moral stand sets him apart
Tribute to Patrick McGoohan 1928-2009,actor,poet,writer
I set out to create a rhyme
but the sounds won't come together
A haiku it was now going to be
but the words became too many
I decided a sonnet will do fine
just then the words disappeared
only ten lines shy of four
I couldn't gather enough Ps
to make a tautogram
and the alteration was already lost
An elegy would have been too sad
This was going to be epic!
In the end I created a beautiful mess with words
Perfectly imperfect
If I were a perfectionist
As you have so named me
I’d fix all of your bad habits
And your tendency towards stress
And your inability to be carefree
And your unhealthy need to please
And the way I let you down
But I wouldn’t change a thing
Because you’re you
And that’s just perfect
If you strive for perfection
You will never be content
There will always be flaws
Which you will resent
Nothing is perfect
And it will never be
Because the idea of perfection
It differs for you and me.
Please pander to my
Perfectionism by
Pottering your purlesent
Peepers purposely past my
Permanently printed
Phrases of poetic poise
Pulling precious people
Past particular poison
Pleases.
Pushing perfection points
Purposefully protects from
Painful perception.
Perhaps a pedantic persuasion?
Perhaps a pen peaking in
Peppery passion or with
Personal poignancy or
Painted pastiche pictures of
Platitude?
Perhaps
Being A Perfectionist
(Is One Of My Flaws)
Miracle Man
5/16/2023
At times I’ve been told, just let it go,
but I never do things to just get by.
Though no one else might ever know,
I’m always the one I must satisfy.
It’s said you reap from what you sow,
and not all tasks are completed with ease.
From “get by” attitudes, bad habits grow,
and I’ll readily admit I’m hard to please.
“The pursuit of perfection often impedes improvement”.
George Will
On a bamboo tip
A crow sits bending
The already bent
We all fail in one way or another, and failure
is an essential and painful way to learn...
while searching for that life's treasure;
and if it is never found, rejoice in what you have
by honoring the gifts that were given to us:
to love with an immense desire to be loved,
to be comforted when others turn away and
you can't find a shoulder to lean on!
Why be a perfectionist in all you do? But altruism isn't fair,
and you may miss out on those chances for acquaintances,
look around: people are happy with only significant things:
being heard and surrounded with inseparable friends...
even birds gather on the roofs tops to chat among themselves,
and notice this human misery, not wishing to be us indeed;
and we have more intelligence than them, and are much stronger
and wiser to let unhappiness and envy derange our existence!
I tried all and nothing determined or guaranteed
how successful or gratified I would have been,
if had impersonated the role of perfectionist;
meekness flees from us when we detour,
to shorten the distance and the struggle to get there...
to devise a plan is to start being human to the very core,
detesting the absurd idea of being a perfectionist,
and deviate from the dilemma which devitalizes our energy!
I spoke to a perfectionist who was as sharp
as the expressions he used in his flawless speech,
a well-educated person with an unlimited knowledge:
what I wasn't impressed with...wasn't his worth or ample pride,
or his self-importance and the self-revealing attitude
towards his brilliant personality and self-esteem:
but a lack of perception...to seem so worried about his age;
and seeing my deriding look, he took off his shades and cried!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
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