Best Problem Child Poems
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A world of discovery
Old or new amazing buildings
Spaceships, first man on the moon
The robots who would take over our jobs
Natural disasters such as tornado or flood
Immerse yourself in history
Was, Napoleon Europe's problem child
Was, Sankt Nikolaus an historical person
Can we make a journey through time
The past meets the future
04.06.2013
A-L Andresen :)
What lies in the dark recess of the human mind,
That place where we dare not travel.
Behind our daily masks of illusions,
To another realm of thought beneath
Outward appearances deceptive delusions.
Here evil intentions are not spoken or
Shown in spite or malice,
But it exists none the same.
Behold good intentions problem child,
Those whom mean well but they become
Lost in empty corners called envy or jealousy.
Dark venues along life’s highway where
Humanities laws are blurred in lights reflections.
Beings lost within themselves, stand alone
On realities jagged cliff.
The candle of hope will not burn here,
Justices winds blow too strongly against
Truths righteous foe.
Laid slain or clipped creature cry out why.
But light has over come the darkness again.
Behold the golden hour approaches and the
Sun shines across heavens once more.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
I was born at the tail end of the Goldhawk Road
Which runs through Shepherds Bush
Like an artery,
And in the mid 1960s,
Served as one of the great centres
Of the London Mod movement,
But I was raised in relative gentility
In a ward of nearby South Acton
Whose vast council estate
Is surely the most formidable
Of the whole of West London.
Although my little suburb
Has since become
One of its most exclusive neighbourhoods.
My first school was a kind of nursery
Held locally on a daily basis
At the private residence
Of one Miss Henrietta Pearson,
And then aged 4 years old,
I joined the exclusive
Lycee Francais du Kensington du Sud,
Where I was soon to become bilingual
And almost every race and nationality
Under the sun was to be found
At the Lycee in those days...
And among those who went on to be good pals mine
Were kids of English, French, Jewish, American,
Yugoslavian and Middle Eastern origin.
While my first closest pals were Esther,
The vivacious daughter
Of a Norwegian character actor
And a beautiful Israeli dancer,
And Craig, an English kid like myself,
With whom I remain in contact to this day.
For a time, we formed an unlikely trio:
"Hi kiddy," was Esther's sacred greeting
To her blood brother, who'd respond in kind.
But at some stage, I became a problem child,
A disruptive influence in the class,
And a trouble maker in the streets,
An eccentric loon full of madcap fun
And half-deranged imaginativeness.
("Born on the Goldhawk Road" is a versified version of one much reproduced in various forms throughout my writings, although it bears little resemblance to its original, which first glimpsed the light of day in around 2002. It's undergone much modification since then, including the alteration of all names of people and places for the solemn purpose of privacy.)
He was a cowboy problem child
rescued by a mendicant sage brush sorcerer
resulting in his remembering everything
flawlessly insolently permanantly
birth death life things in space have a beer
owner of his own head at last
thanks to whiskey tainted improvisations
and the use of springs and levers
in order to bring the Almighty down to earth
for a patch job on his many severed limbs
he slept on a bed of maguey spines
combed his tumbleweed hair over the burn spots
and tattooed his many and fecund scars into
the outlines of zippers and pockets
Tex Lester was a lariat twirling minstrel
and undefeated Popsicle stick swordsman
subject to a chronic howling for pootang
Tex took me under his leathery wings
together we praised the pop up toaster
and often spoke of mechanics and luck
taught me to look at girls all anew
in the little red school house by the cactus patch
Miss LobowskI beat off my attempts
at humping her leg during her class in ethics
as if a description of total damnation
could repair the broken mosaic of attention
Tex would implore with the tact of a scorpion
madam cover your eyes in the name of decency
what could I do but wake the dead
and digress distressingly in the dirt
a heartfelt rain making non-sequitir
well kids are full of surprises
uninhibited by mystery or murderous rage
complete they are in a different way
but the more Miss Lobowski's convex mariachis
bucked and danced under her wet serape
the more it popped into Tex's ten gallon head
to teach her an old cowboy rope trick
round and round went his cowboy lariat
the desire to repeat pleasure unfortunately
is the desire to repeat it exactly endlessly
and that's the problem the big problem
at the museum of horrible deaths
you grab their ears and whisper
rest your head on a cloud angel
and hope they don't end up on top
of a truckload of flattened automobiles
he went crazy on her flesh
let loose his gila monster on her blazing ****
and together they began robbing banks
this is going to cost me my diploma
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Sullen and defensive
(what's it to you?)
quietly disappearing
what difference does it make?
[tiny] and inferior
beaten into believing the propaganda
from [un]reliable sources
Her heart knew [stuck in survival mode]
nothing but self loathing and
self preservation. To her (unknowing) credit.
Strength.
Regarded as a “loose canon”
by proxy and
so it went.
Scarred.
A miracle.
In God’s eyes.
No one seems to understand
Why I can’t let you go.
If only it were that easy
And there were things I didn’t know
I’ve looked into my heart
Blessed and broken though it is
I still see you in there
Like a mirror of a wish
Your picture still resides
In the eyes of my mind
Perhaps a fond remembrance
Of someone I’ll never find…
Is there a problem, child?
Why do you cry so soon?
Is there a hidden secret
Laying dark inside your room?
I think I understand
Why you had to leave
But it doesn’t make the pain
Any easier to grieve
Each tick of the clock
Life’s minute passes by
One more song to sing
Another question “why”
Someday seems so far away
When time goes so slow
A melody of soft restraint
Wonders what there is to know…
Step aside, bruh ...
you’re in the way
Can’t you see that progress
is being stymied ... moving backwards
not forward
Hard earned labor now taken away
Constitutional high jinx:
changing the law
Democratic voodoo:
shrunken heads plotting in a closed voting booth
Every official act done
is shrinking your liberty too
Step aside, sista ...
you’re in the way
They’re taking us backwards,
from the ghetto projects to a Stonehenge cave
If you’re not part of the solution,
you’re a problem child
They’re blocking us in,
moving the goal posts again
You need to focus ... gain cultural clarity
Get past the who to the why
For your posterity
are you brave enough to die?
If not, then get out of the way,
quit stumbling blocking
You’re too comfortable where you lay,
apathy is a sin ...
For the wrong things, you always pray
Aimlessly wandering,
with your G.P.S. needle wildly spinning
Your sense of direction
is blown askew in the wind
You’re in my way,
so step aside ...
Or you’re gonna have a bad day —
New enemy, old friend
seems you’re going the wrong way again
JUST WRONG
Throughout my life’s journey,
I chanced to see,
Many things to this day that bother me,
Of which I was guided to the destiny,
for me, the straight and narrow, meant to be.
I saw at a grocery parking lot,
a young girl with her grandparent,
weather seething hot,
Swearing and belittling
her own grandmother
a berating like I never heard from another.
I saw a man mercilessly beating his dog,
Two policeman beating
two black boys in a fog,
I saw in an abandoned parking lot,
two parents stripping a branch,
child screaming a lot.
Their teen daughter cried out
in the rear of their car,
As they both administered lashes
and likely a life altering scar.
I saw a man teaching his toddler to read,
His badgering comments spoken,
made my heart bleed,
A black child in her classroom,
smart as a whip,
Raising hands, trying to answer,
yet constantly skipped,
And when overcome with dejection,
hurtfully cried,
Seeing the favor upon the others
her goddess teacher applied.
Scolded and made to feel
she was a problem child,
Became jealous and disruptive
and labeled wild.
I saw a tearful mother slapped hard
by her child,
Fearfully tempered her voice
pleading, all the whole while.
Seemingly entirely vacant
of parental authority,
Asking her child’ “Please behave.
You’re embarrassing me.”
These things and things alike,
are all around,
indicative of a morale
that's utterly cast down,
Our country spirals into
a very dangerous spin,
As our society implodes
by poverties within,
Yet seemingly more powerful is money,
than morality,
Leading our country into hatred
and cold-hearted senility,
And the power of the stars,
called celebrities,
Swaying all of Americans living,
in heroic hypocrisies,
Yet the true heroes are struggling,
and are underpaid,
with classrooms outnumbered
with our children to save.
I just have to believe
as my life continues on,
That more than I am a witness
of the things that are just wrong.
To leave
Or to stay
To fight
Or destroy
Never meant
Never intend
Never wanted
It all to fall
So it starts
So it ends
so its racing to defend
Angry words left unsaid
Lonely hearts still searching on
Fight fought with all might
Seemingly lost beyond all trust
Halo keeping all safe
Fading into mirky skies
Stood and fought
For hours
Hurt and pain it brought
But promise made
Promise kept
Never to be left alone
Always taught
Not to let it fade
It was strong
Feeling weak
It was whole
Feeling broken
What happend
What fell
What made it all
Turn and run
What sounded
The end of round bell?
When did it dwindle
Where did time go
When did we turn
To what we never were
Never wanted to be
A bitter sight?
A deadly sound?
A problem child?
Forever loyal I will fight
Forever true I will stay
Forever at ur back I will be
Come hell high water
And the 7 seas
It now is your call
Stay
Or run
What ever it may be
This is my promise
This is my plea
Hold on
And fight WITH me
against my desk I lay my weary head
ailing of sully thoughts.
the prediction of an angry ruler,
a shadow above me.
dreading to rise and face the wrath,
the answer unknown-
or flown to a place of respite.
words boom, resounding,
demanding explanation.
then, a vengeful blow
lands solid upon my back.
bored slumber now gone,
stripped painfully away.
the problem child,
face to face
with harshness,
makes learning
miserable,
instead of wonderment
and joy.
Along time ago i felt lost.
My life was like walking into fog.
Misfortune.
I felt as tho god hated me,
to have my childhood taken from me.
Like a teen trapped in a nightmare.
Those nightmares you never wish on anyone,
but yet you felt as tho you had to walk through it alone.
Its our secret my sweet little one,
tho i knew at that age it was wrong but to hard to speck up.
I think thats where i knew god didnt care for me,
falling into deep depression as a teen.
Is a big warning sign,
it was telling people something was very wrong.
But i was labled a problem child.
Bursts of angry and tears, many temps of suicide.
Night terrors creeped into my room at night,
Beauitful dreams became dark,
with sudden flashes of my teen life.
Its been 15 years since that day.
I grew stronger more wiser.
I now know god loves me,
hes giving me the strength to pick myself of the ground. Where i once laid. But the demon still lives deep inside me,
its the thing that stops me from happiness.
From smiling, it just keeps me crying.
But god sent me an angel to help, he smiles and brightens my darkest days.
He hugs me and washs away my pain, he laughs and i see myself laughing along with him. He is the sun in my home, the most natural thing that can beat a bad life is a childs love.
Have you ever had days where it’s felt like your heart wasn’t working right? Maybe it felt like your chest was feeling really tight? Have you ever had a hard time turning your brain off at night? You’ve even tried wishing on a shooting star “I wish I may, I wish I might”, but you still end up with no appetite? Have you ever felt like every sad song you listen to is about you? Do you ever wonder if they care about you, as much as you care about them? Have you ever had to pretend? Have you ever wanted to make a change in the world? Have you ever laid in bed in the dark, under the blankets just curled? Was there a time where you’ve made a mistake? Have you ever been through a heartache? Have you ever wanted to change who you are? Have you wished you were just alone drunk at a bar? Have you thought about how you’ve even made it through life so far? Do you get the urge to pick up and leave and never come back? Do you feel like some days you’re going to fade into the black? Have you ever lost someone closed to you? Did it make you feel blue? What did you do? Did you scream to the heavens and beg for them to come back? Have you ever wished life could just be back tracked? Do you feel like you’re the problem child? How do you feel when you don’t remember passing out on the bathroom tile? Hopefully, all this will make sense in a little while, but until then, you'll just sit there and smile.
I bet you didn't know that the 7 dwarfs
Used to work for Santa Claus
Yep, they all got fired from the north pole
Cause they kept breaking too many laws
See, Doc was the north pole physician
He tended to those who were afflicted
But he was writing too many prescriptions
And three hundred elves got addicted
Then we have the dwarf called Sneezy
Sneezy became a problem too
Everywhere he goes he's blowing his nose
And they all came down with the flu
Next we have the dwarf named Sleepy
Now this one should speak for itself
He was always found somewhere laying down
Curled up in a corner on a shelf
Then there's the dwarf called Bashful
This one was just way too shy
And when they finally gave him his pink slip
He was too embarressed to say goodbye
That brings us to the dwarf named Happy
Now he was just a bundle of joy
But they just couldn't get him to do any work
Cause he was always playing with the toys
And of course we can't forget about Dopey
This one always did what they said
But he was a little slow, if you know what I mean
And they think he was dropped on his head
And last but not least we have Grumpy
He would stay out drinking all night
Now he was the north pole's problem child
Cause he was always starting all the fights
Well that's the end of my story
And I really hope you're not annoyed
Did I tell you Snow White fired them too?
Yep, all seven dwarfs are unemployed
The holidays are drawing nearer
My problems are becoming so much clearer.
My parents aren’t the problem you see
The only problem that was there was me.
I’m the problem, I’m what’s wrong
Why hadn’t I figured this out for so long?
I’m the one that has ruined everyone’s lives
I shouldn’t be here, I deserve to die.
Now I feel awfully sick
It hit me so fast, so hard, so thick.
Now I hate myself even more
Just wait and see what I have in store.
But is it really all my fault?
When my parents don’t talk to me not even at all?
If they cared wouldn’t they say
We love you honey it will all be okay?
I’m so confused I don’t know what to do
I guess it’s a situation where you can win or lose.
I guess I’ve lost I’ll try to cope
But I’ve lost all faith I’ve lost all hope.
I guess we’ll just have to wait and see
What will happen, what becomes of me.
Maybe it’s hope and faith I will have found
But also maybe six feet isn’t so far down .
MY WAY
I see reflections of my life, how I arrived
at this stage of my telling life, the phase I thrive.
Was a curious child with too many questions
that I kept to myself from my keen attention
for inquiries from a child were not welcoming.
Was hard to conform to ways, so disenchanting.
I was a rebel without a cause inside me
for showing off good reputation was not me.
Like going to church every Sunday was for show
for following and applying scriptures were low.
Complain, compare and criticize were always said.
Whatever is true, praiseworthy were not impelled.
Verbal abuse were there too, mean words stabbing you,
affecting your belief, doubting their love for you.
The kind of environment they grew up, passed on
to next generation and could continue on.
I was a problem child for not caring about
others’ opinions of me, I could go without.
Being different was not easy; but being
myself, staying positive gave my life meaning.
7/28/21 An Interesting Couplet Poetry
Funom Makama
Meter Used: 12 syllables (How Many Syllables)
Used: RhymeZone