Best Psychiatrists Poems
Can readers or authors foresee
Freed up manic moods and more glee?
Mixed-up word orphans
Induce endorphins
Without a psychiatrist’s fee
OR
What do poem authors desire?
Freed up manic moods and less ire!
We rhyme word orphans
To boost endorphins
So psychiatrists we can fire
HABITS
We wake up in the morning,
Our memory, collecting storing,
The same data over, and over again,
It becomes entrenched – a habit is due,
What triggers habits, just a simple cue!
We pass a highway that we know well
And put our car into cruise mode, swell,
This is routine, and we follow this road
For there is a reward,
We will shortly arrive at a place,
To which we associate a particular face,
And we store this for it feels good,
We now have adopted a habit,
That’s understood!
A repetitive gym advert
On TV, is yet another cue,
We lace up our sneakers, lay out our
Clothes, kiss husband goodbye
So long Hugh!
This has become routine,
For in a week or two
Our reward is due,
We will feel bran new
When we stand on our scale,
Which now tells a new tale!
A few more kilos you will
Have shed, we love this new
Routine, wow it is working
And without even shirking,
One gym lesson, we love the reward,
We once hated gym,
Now we never get bored,
And besides feeling healthy
We make our lives lengthy.
But some habits beware,
Cause strain, so refrain,
For these habits try to engulf
Us with guilt,
But our willpower will
Overpower guilt, if well built,
Willpower is the conscious mind,
And alerts us if we intend,
To be unkind,
So hurrah for the conscious,
We heartily cheer,
But the unconscious is
What brought us here,
To crossroads between the two,
Everyone differs in their view.
We must therefore
First think everything through,
For we adopt habits by
Storing more information,
And progressively throughout,
Each generation,
Embrace many a new habit,
But sometimes
Just do not grab it!
Psychiatrists forge forward
What a dilemma,
To find answers, neither
Altered or awkward!
Wrote this poem after having read he Power of HABIT by Charles Duhigg.
The birds understand us, it’s true,
They understand us better than men,
Observe the grey heron when it is afraid,
listen to the Robin
Who asks to play with you,
Go for the lint
She doesn’t want any wrong notes,
The birds understand us,
The thief has always known you,
She knows how far to go,
They understand us better than our ministers,
Better than the gendarmes to guard you,
They understand us better than the bakers
too busy making croissants in the morning,
The birds understand us,
listen to the duck, who chooses beautiful oranges,
listen to the Blackbird,
who whistles when you are depressed,
When you think of Martine or Marie Noëlle,
listen to these dear birds,
They interfere with what you think,
They are wary of alley cats, domestic cats
They are suspicious of everything, of the time that passes slowly,
They guess your dreams, your fantasies,
They have nothing to lose by watching you,
Let them speak to you of God, of Bonaparte,
The idea of lying never crosses their mind,
They understand you better than psychiatrists,
They know what you think,
let them, they have a thousand things to say
Let them sing the coming of spring.
NB When I go for a walk a little before dawn, the singing of birds is like a medicine, it gets rid of the physical and moral heaviness, due to sleep.
We’re on the same boat
Nurses and teachers,
Doctors and farmers,
Mr. Moreno and his “maricon”
Enrico Macias and his dry guitar,
We are on the same boat,
The Sevillans and the Marseillais,
The Brazilians and their forests,
My sister Anne and her diabetic patients
Catholics and Muslims,
we are on the same boat,
firefighters and butchers,
The jellyfish and the ancient Greeks,
Psychiatrists and Carl Jung,
the Breton cakes and the scholars,
We are on the same boat,
The astrophysicists and mangousts,
Tarzan and the pizza eaters,
The farmers and gold miners,
We are on a steaming boat,
That of men who seek God.
15 years, 20 jobs
11 ambulance rides
15 people died
moved 20 times
countless admissions to a hospital
the right to my own person overlooked
4 murders
2 suicides
the police and psychiatrists covering their tracks
lengthy period of punishment
look it up in the charter of rights and freedoms
war criminal doctorate in malpractice
the biker gangs overtaking the police system
a global enemy
me your blond haired blue eyed poetic criminal
100 year war mission victom
im sure even politicians and tv journalists have
infiltration instruction to micromanage a society
built on someone elses empire of lies
prepare the funeral pyre
the kiss and tell blackmail of sabotoge
name one persons life today
they have not completely destroyed
among the homeless in your shelters
you sniff out the senses of your enemies
Egg in the church basket like the mafia
who only takes care of their own
the list of ancestries and family trees
of guilty by association
red carpet grave funeral party
recruited for war
instructed on their mission
letter in the mail
and no escape for them
lost on an island
global enemies sent
different uniforms worn
representing the doublestandards of their vile crimes
police, and doctors, judges, and criminals alike
the layers of your life to get to drug ring bosses
stranded on this island to become a true war hero this time
either dead before you get there
or dead upon arrival
survival instincts of the jail house maximum security
island arrivals
Global enemies of all sides
sent to this modern bermuda triangle
the global army insists upon it
in the end we bomb the million stranded starving terrorists
forced to die a hero
the seven names on this list of enemy powers
guilty by association in the criminal records
Ha Ha Ha super soldiers
im just a blonde haired blue eyed poetic criminal
your 100 year long war mission
finaly explained, your long term plan for survival
Round em up
everyone of them
your global enemy that has caused this much confusion
lead to the wars we fight today
the truth remains unknown
global enemies all around the world
the terror that they spread
like the rise of the hell's angels
It should not have surprised me when I woke,
laying in the hospital bed, white sheets,
bandages, heart monitor, IV yoke,
nurses, and three empty visitor seats.
Psychiatrists asked questions, prescribed pills,
forced meetings, demanded group therapy,
attempted to find the root of my ills,
declared depression, and then set me free.
It did not surprise me when I came home,
to find it still broken, empty, and bare.
Laundry still piled in a haphazard dome,
and proof of collapse pervaded the air.
I failed in life and also failed in death.
There must be a reason I still have breath.
The positive passages of Norman Vincent Peale—
Travelled time with mass appeal.
Uplifting affirmations and intentions of healing
Sent psychiatrists and theologians to writing and reeling.
Time marches on but the story doesn't change.
Innocent lives being taken by a person whose deranged..
Last weekend in Pa. it was our state police, one is still
critical, and the other is now deceased..
The unstable shooter is also now gone.
Will this ever stop? What keeps going so wrong?
This tragic story truly rings home for me.
I had a person with mental health struggles in my family.
Psychiatrists rely on the pharmaceutical industry and
prescribe new medications that alter patients' brain chemistry.
Family members are often leery to commit, because our mental
hospitals discharge the patient still unfit, and they are left to
deal with the brunt of it.
At home, these families struggle to keep things in control.
Many times that stress alone will take a major toll.
How many more peacekeepers?
How many more innocent lives is our society willing to sacrifice?
His daddy died from workin’, the boy dropped out of school,
He should’ve hid out in college, that patriotic fool.
His mama, she was weepin’ that day he raised his hand,
He wrote her almost ev’ry week from a Southeast Asian land.
He led his men in battle, he risked his ass each day,
He hit the dirt but not in time when a bullet came his way.
A purple decoration—rehabilitation, and an ex-wife—
And now his nation’s awarding him…just twenty years to life.
The details they don’t matter, no, it’s just some Veteran’s crime,
The Vietnam War ain’t over yet, it takes a long, long time.
Psychiatrists and lawyers, they fashioned his defense,
They tried to make him crazy, but the jury took offense.
Now he don’t sniff that cocaine, no, and all he drinks is beer;
But he’s got memories in living color, they re-run all so clear.
He hears those people screamin’, he sees the bombs’ bright light—
It all came back one fatal night…inside that bar-room fight.
The details don’t matter, no, it’s just some Veteran’s crime,
The Vietnam War ain’t over yet, it takes a long, long time.
Mastermined racism through religion
in order for world peace
humbled myself , the former god in heaven
to become your homeless king of earth
about to rule my lost empire
The blackmen typical special ops
to prevent genocide
East Indian peoples a form of intelligence
which has been granted for them on the front lines
of a war between two different types of white peoples
the natives a doomsaying soothesayer of realities and truths, the protectors of such
things
The japanese waiting patiently undercover
while the chinese learn to abolish torture and blackmail
white people detectives at he scene of the crime
psychiatrists and doctoers and malpractice to those who pretend to be good people
volunteers at the homeless shelters crippling our society like an underground from
somewhere else
I am a god in this way
preventing yopu from repeating heiroshima somewhere else
protect the world from their worldly enemies through mastermining religion
and your life lessons
the stanic will to survive on the quest for truth to protect he good left alive
like a black plague reminder of a sickness and truths twisted
lessons on language and the fall of babel to recommunicate with our inner healer
The city i live in today
one day the center focus of earth
to be a haven for the world's homeless
do not prioritise this for me as i have just begun to win the future war of the worlds
a sleight of reality, beliefs and, spiritua;ity keeping you deadlocked
the fact earth a center of heaven for that is what it once used to be
walking through life as your cheatsheet to your history exam
i remind many of mankind's legacy
yet you worship my worste nightmare
i havno choice but to smote my enemy
as you aid me in lioving through my dreams
the rescue mission of your homeless king
to rule over you
as a sexual healing granted
my first dream to be along the way
to prove myself to me
i hope mankind allows this to be succesfull
My Pain
I should not look through her eyes
I should not admire her pleasant lips
When she talks, smiles, or winces
I should not savor her attractive smell
I should never commend her shiny body
She bewitched me like a crazy person
I hate the day that I crossed her path
I can’t block her out of my heart
She destroyed my heart’s protection
She reduces my life expectancy
Her seduction drives me to the doctors
Anesthesiologists can't alleviate my pain
Cardiologists suggest to change my heart
Psychiatrists prescribe me her kiss
God tells me that she’s my medicine
I hate her presence just like her absence
She’s a powerful sweet witch of love
I avoid sleeping because she’s there
Even though she’ll make me suffer to my death
I won’t give up until I get my prescription on her lips
In younger days, my doctor calls
Were few and far between.
A checkup visit wasn’t ever
Part of my routine.
But aging changes all of that
For everyone is trying,
By seeing every specialist,
To staunch the fear of dying.
So now a dermatologist
Will check a brand-new mole.
Suspicious bloodwork? You’re in
Hematologist’s control.
Of course, the gynecologist
Must get a yearly see
And ophthalmologists and those
In rheumatology.
Let’s not forget those stress tests
Cardiologists insist on
And also the urologists
Whose plastic cups get pissed on.
Most gastroenterologists
See clients up in years
And certainly psychiatrists
See seniors for their fears.
I wonder if we might be
Better off just saying “**** it”
For all these doctors can’t prevent
Our kicking of the bucket.
Have everyone undergo a security clearance investigation.
Have to present complete copy of college transcripts.
Have to take MMPI, Stanford Benet Coder Interest, Miller Analogies
and Rorschach Inkblot test to determine how much color blindness they have.
Have to analyze and prepare a paper on Nature of Prejudice by Gordon Alport.
Have to present all Federal, State and Local tax returns.
Have to present all medical records.
Have to complete paper on why you want to be President.
Have a complete credit report presented to everyone.
Have prepared a paper regarding your statistical analytical ability.
Have the decency not to criticize or complain about someone else.
Have proven your ability to be an outstanding parent.
Have prepared a paper regarding what you think about racism, fascism, sexistism,
prejudicism, mysogenism, anti-Christ and Birtherism.
Have prepared a paper on how to handle stress
in various situations and conditions.
Have prepared paper on your thoughts pertaining to God and Bible.
Have prepared a paper regarding economic analysis of current economic condition
using PERT charts, Analysis of Variance, Input-Output studies, shift share analysis
and correlation study of conservatism as related to liberalism.
Prepare a paper regarding your attitude towards veterans affairs, military conditions, Gold Star Families, GI Bill and VA loans.
Have prepared a paper regarding effects of Civil War and Team of Rivals on America.
Have been thoroughly analyzed by a group of psychiatrists from the Mayo Clinic.
Raped of all freedoms, basic democratic rights
Restraints ever tighten casting underdog to fight
Sharp scratch of needle pierces State sectioned vein
I submerge to a world of the psychiatrists drain
Adult my dummy preventing tongues loss to bite
Held within induced seizures epileptic in might
I welcome the darkness, one silent scream
Memory the victim midst non-consenting scene
Consciousness awakens clouded mind to dull mist
Punch drunk I sit to chemical onslaughts new fist
Medicated features exaggerates hollowing face
Expressionless my return, a salivating disgrace
Emptied companions stare at floors, piped TV
We sit, we quietly stare at the nothing now to see
Surrendered manic thoughts, depression held at bay
Psychiatry cures tomorrow by destroying my today
This legalised torture, "Electro Convulsive Therapy"
A disproved mental abattoir of Victorian barbarity
Why erase future names from the timeline of mankind
Whilst celebrating all achieved by past great bipolar minds
It's 12 AM and I've got to correct 1,500 papers.
Mini-quizzes
Tests
Copy-pasted researches stacked to the ceiling,
Shadowing my feelings
Towering me like sky-scrapers!
They say those who can - do,
And those who cannot - teach.
I know this might come as a shock to you…
But I can, and I do, and I still teach!
This job has made nothing out of my reach.
I am PONDER WOMAN!
I make my students ponder upon all the world’s wonders…
Why did Shakespeare kill both Romeo and Juliet at the end?
Why is it easier to be yourself – and not pretend?
Why is the earth oval shaped – and slightly round?
Hush! Get back to your seat, and don’t you dare make a sound.
With this pen, all errors are fixed
A cruel X? Perhaps an accepting tick?
I make my students feel like.. Like.. Tens over tens!
I put the world in its right place… with my magical red pen.
Don’t they know? Don’t they know that all prophets are teachers?
That I have devoted my life, my time, and my energy to be their preacher?
That teachers are sculptors who shape their students personalities…
From nothing, into something.
That teachers are engineers who build an emotional base that is safe
For their students to stand strong in case of an earth quake –
That teachers are psychiatrists who can make their scholars love themselves,
Without invading their privacy.
That teachers are candles in the dark that light the way to knowledge
And endless possibilities.
That teachers are second mothers,
Who left their own kids to come to school and work!
Ah! Irony is berserk!
And I know that this might come as a shock to you…
It’s not about the money I make… for what is it worth
If my students are out of my reach…?
I mean, I am a teacher.
I can, and I do and I still teach.