Best Psychological Poems
You say, I’m too far,
towards the far side?
It’s a hazard of my left-handedness,
that I see the logic in abstraction.
Worlds lay within worlds
and colors bleed personality;
Oh, it may be distasteful
in the world of mathematics
to give a square five sides;
not in my world,
it’s a box with the lid open.
Into that box I pour
my imaginings,
things that only I can see
of which, some folks display
their jealousy;
they accuse me of being backwards,
of not following the rules.
In my world, rules are
shades of grey,
monotone
monotony,
my imagination
does not obey.
No one tells me that
a cow can’t be purple,
that clouds can’t speak
or that you can’t draw the
invisible realms.
Step into my guitar and dance,
it’s playing itself for you.
I’m an original, you see
and I travel in
imagination’s zone.
Do not build a ladder
when I fall into the abyss
I did not call for climbing
The thorn in me
is not a riddle to be solved,
nor a window begging repair
I am thunder — not your project;
I am rain that needs witness,
not your umbrella
When I say I’m drowning,
do not throw me ropes of reason
Let me sink into your silence
weightless unrescued
yet unalone
Be the shore that does not move
as my waves thrash
and settle
My pain is not a puzzle.
Don’t match it to your pieces.
It is a wild bird
let it wheel
let it scream
let it land
without your cage
on wild earth and
broken branches.
You see my storm
and lash advice like scaffolding,
but I need someone
to taste the chaotic torrent
to say yes — it bites,
yes — it burns,
not someone who murmurs
“you should have stayed inside”
To love me is to shhh,
to hold space as sacred
to hear with your cells
not just your ears
What courage it takes
to offer no answer
to let me erupt
without stapling my wings
Let me weep
without shame.
Let me unravel
without thread.
Let me fall
and do not sweep
the pieces away.
These fragments
are not failure;
They are a kind of scripture
not trash,
but story,
etched into the fabric of my being.
Only when your stillness
echoes louder than your words
can I hear myself return
Only then
can I stitch up with cat gut
and name it healing.
And when I rise,
not fixed
but found,
I will turn toward you
not to repay
but to remain
to share this journey
And then I will listen deeply.
Silence?
or
is that a cry
I hear
Screams?
or
is that
memories
hiding?
Wall
yes I listen
to a wall
days
weeks
forever
A white wall
stares back at me
curiosity mounts
I feel the wall
whiteness
blinds me
My heart stops
a rhythm
still
dances
ah
a smile crashes
into me
two
yes two hearts
one
wall
Effervescent elation arises and dances to ancient echoes; the rhythm of the drums heartbeat.
Champagne notes bubble into the night sky; night music of Gaia’s children is music to my sleeping ears.
Ethereal flutes singing to the crickets,
usher me into the dreamtime and there I awaken;
an ancient being, I heed the call.
I drum along; wings beating out the chorus;
I dance in skies of cotton white fluff.
Drums intensifying, crescendo as,
Native Voices sing my name.
I am king Thunderbird and my subjects saluting me…
music to my ears.
Written 2-14-19
My precious chimney swift
Envy alone
Has named you so mundane
Tethered to the slightest pause
Amid your life upon the wing
Describing you as drab
Cigar shaped
And flying like a bat
While within me
Your beauty burns
And I thank you so for that
For from my human complications
The conditions of my sin
You do so delightfully
Delightfully distract.
My mind is a puzzle of cryptic metaphors.
whilst searching for my sanity,
I've become my own worst enemy.
In this cauldron of despair,
time is like sand in my hand -
an oxymoron poetic
paradox of cruel compassion.
Sadistic green eyes bring my demise,
as my sighs are captured by the wind,
slowly morphed into madness and travesty.
I sit alone on the throne of midnight illusions,
cursed by dark imaginations
lingering like mouldy air,
as vivid flashing images
engrave inkstained imprints.
Dripping lament from a
palette of black and white,
colouring in the emptiness of my sensitive soul.
In echoing whispers of weeping violins,
whimsical vibratos from wooden wind-chimes,
steadily orchestrate instrumental sonatas,
ringing through my strained metallic heart,
whilst I try to strum strangled strings,
harmonizing an inconsistent symphony of a tragedy.
Fate has me stranded within a monotonous loop of uncertainties,
for when twilight’s last breath piercingly eclipsed over
lyrical edges of my insomniac shadow,
it awoke restless beasts of nocturnal nights -
in nightmares I wondered does no one hear my screams?
i can see dazzling dusts of black diamonds,
drizzle manuscripts of maniac irony
translating dialects hidden behind unshed tears
that gleam like shooting stars,
as i sing mystical moonbeams,
sewn with silver sequins of euphonious memories on refrain,
chorused from nameless tunes of timeless tomorrows,
as the magic of the maestro,
residing in the highest bridge of sanguine skies,
guides these electric fears, trapped between
synchronized layers of my unsettled skin.
I'm tired from intangible tears in the mirror,
slowly sinking me in swirls of sorrow,
like a bruised creature
seeking shelter in a silk cocoon,
so this aurora's smile is no longer a masquerade.
I hunger for rays of sunlight to paint my skin
in a plethora of pastels,
so this golden bronze queen,
can once again glitter
in a crown of illuminating heartbeats.
Sonnet I
In realms of emerald hush where sunlight strains.
Through veils of green. A silent throng takes root.
A clovered congregation on the plains
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
No melodies from throats unseen they sing.
No pleas for mortal ken their silence breaks.
Yet in their rooted quietude they bring
A symphony for Nature's gentle stakes.
From dust they rise, by unseen hands embraced
To greet the dawn's first kiss, a deep-green dream.
Unfurling fronds that grasp the sun's warm face...
A silent pact with life's sidereal stream.
No eyes behold the light their essence drinks
No lips confess the air for which it thinks.
Sonnet II
Through fragrant whispers secretly softly pass
On unseen currents borne a cryptic lore
A web of messages that dance like grass.
A wisdom! newly sworn on Nature's floor -
No clash of arms? no battles fought in vain.
Yet messages they send on silent wings...
A language dovetailed deep, a copious chain,
A bond that knows no end, the green world sings.
With patient strength... they pierce the earth's cold hold.
A testament to will unyielding. Strong!
Unmoved by tempests' raging fury bold,
Their roots like anchors grip where they belong.
A silent war against the storm's harsh might.
A battle fought unseen, in verdant light.
Corona
A quiet war in bright green
A song for animals and plants
Listen to people in every green leaf.
No songs from hidden throats they sing.
Through fragrant, sotto voce... secrets softly pass
Their stoic forms a timeless lushful loot.
Couplet
A lesson composed in green, a truth to glean.
Where verdant nature creates and wisdom sings.
I See You...
Wanderer, wanderer, lost in the haze
void of direction, succumb to the craze.
Give ear to my madness, so deftly designed;
deception de-jour: aimed to muddle your mind.
Hocus and pocus no need for free thought,
erase your opinions, your conscious to rot.
As sugar and soda your smile decay,
a hoax and swindle, then off on your way.
Smoke and a mirror, please don’t look too close.
The truth makes one banal; drugs for the morose.
Illusion can conjure emotions untapped
a quick misdirection, now I’ve got you trapped.
You think you arrived here, quite all on your own
you’re one of a billion, another sad clone…
I’ve stolen the treasure that once made you free
brainwashed you to thinking all’s as it should be.
Gobbledygook and hyperbolized drivel
platitudes, platitudes, mentally shrivel;
accept what I tell you, and not an ounce more,
wanderer, wanderer, you’re lost evermore.
07/12/15
Lost between the borders of heaven and hell,
confusion led to this story, one must tell.
Surrounded by a world full of violence,
I closed my eyes and took a vow of silence.
Wondering if this life was even real,
weird chills and shivers, one began to feel.
Suddenly a figure appeared in a shroud,
in darkness, his words echoed ever so loud.
“If you dare, come closer and take a chance,
won’t you give me the pleasure of one dance?
Do not fear for I am not violent,
why are you the one who is silent?”
“Why should one become your willing dancer,
so that you can fill my mind with cancer?
You are nothing but a ferocious beast,
go now, upon my soul you shall not feast.”
“I know all about your forgotten schemes,
I’m the one who can bring you your dreams.”
Thou shall not sin, come leave this humdrum city,
let me show you a life, ever so pretty.
Can’t you see we are all the same breed,
they will all follow if you plant my seed.”
Louder and louder his words would repeat,
effecting the rhythm of my heart beat.
This was no simple case of confusion,
for this image was causing much delusion.
Then again, life can become an illusion,
when one chooses, a life full of seclusion.
“I must decline this dance you want so badly,
for you this poem will end, rather sadly.
For, I seek a path of peaceful harmony,
my soul cannot sing with you in symphony.
Nothing here for you, so be on your way,
this time your words shall not lead me astray.”
Scorned he left with a sly grin on his face,
vowing to return again to this place.
Inside, something that day seemed to have died.
Resisting temptation filled me with pride.
For him this was just a sinister game,
but, I could never live a life of shame.
After all I was my mother’s son,
strong – after all had been said and done.
The Silent One
Originally posted on 1 May 2017,
re posted 19 January 2019.
open your doors
close all the windows
sleeping's such a bore
suffocate it with pillows
psh, i'm not hellbent
shut your mouth
it's called character development
WOOPS. broke routine again
and the poem's gone south.
made myself out to be the bad guy
so they wouldn't feel as sad when i die
so many
so many damn times you told me
all those uplifting words regarding my significance
did i ever stop to listen?
now look at all this tension
i am the patient
you're the asylum
this heart rate is hesitant
unless you revive them
i'm the addiction and
you are the needle
i'm the mutilation
you're the scars that will heal
i am the stash
and you're the supplier
i am the match and
you are the fire
you are the truth
and i am the dare
you are the daydream
i'm the nightmare
i am the cigarette
you are the lighter
i am the pirouette
you're the choreographer
we all are so sad
we've both lost our thrill
that's just too bad but
we both know the drill
made myself out to be the bad guy
so i wouldn't feel as sad when i die
My confession
I murdered them all
impostors
claims of poetic devices
when the evidence was only
rants piled upon rants
A circle of praises
made the courts dizzy
the frauds committed
only added to their notoriety
under oath
all their poems shattered
The judge looked me in the eye
how do you plead sir
"Guilty as charged your honour"
I here by then sentence you to 19 days
you must pay for each crime
one day for each scoundrel exposed
"Marionette of Flesh in a Borrowed Dress"
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
The hourglass,
a skeletal jester
mocks in the tomb's chill
Each falling grain an emaciated sigh,
"Soon you'll cease to be."
The mirror's cold reflection,
a Gorgon's ghastly guise
A marionette of flesh with vacant...
hollow...
colorless eyes.
The worms, like pallid mourners
watch me shrink
A marionette of organs,
cold and pale, pink.
This flesh, a borrowed dress
once sprightly
Now stained and thin
Holds tight the secrets only
death can win.
This borrowed dress,
a shroud where my story's writ
In laughter's faded stitch
and tear's accusing slit.
A map of life etched deep
with scars that mar the grain.
A raven of fleeting triumphs
a pendulum of ceaseless pain.
In the shadowed hollows
where sorrow resides
I languish.
marionettes of fate's cruel designs!
Each scratch and cut a lament.
each tear a bitter sea!
Bound by the chains of my...
limited mortality.
In this borrowed dress,
I mourn what could have been...
Lost in the convulsion of my own... sin.
I am transformed
but not redeemed.
I am drifting into the void
My spirits are shattered
and my dreams destroyed.
So in the silence of eternity
I find my rest
Lost in this body of my own...
detest.
And though this shell
a chrysalis
soon withers
and decays
I cast aside the shroud
no longer bound or worn.
Accept the endless night,
where a new self-forlorn is bourne.
Transformed
a residual relic
through the void
I fly
Suture with stardust catgut,
a worn scroll in the sky.
Are your mind and heart open
Are you safe
For the weary and forsaken
Are you safe
Does empathy over prejudice prevail
Or do different perspectives tip your scale
For the weak and the mistaken
For the outcasts and the shaken
Are your mind and heart open
Are you safe
Do not look to me with questioning eyes
For i do not possess the answers you seek
i cannot taste the bitter sweetness on your tongue,
or smell the withered flowers along your path
My heart beats with less rythm than your blues
i am unable to stumble through your dark corridors,
for you are poet undiscovered
Your answers are hidden deep within an apathetic pen
For you hide behind a painted closed window
Pushing too little
arriving late
Not aware of your own relevance
Solitarily, feeling sorry for yourself
When instead, pity could be your party
Yes it is true, the world celebrates sad clowns
But you do not let laughter mix with your grey sky tears
i myself, see images of you poured out on limitless pages
Rearranged
Sculpted
Until your words have substance
Becoming living and breathing beings
I wish you to reveal to us your cherished children
Birth them to a forgiving unforgiven world
Risk the grasping hands of rejection
True courage will reveal your annoited pen
Without risk
you cannot
will not
bleed in rainbowed splendor
Instead, days will become years
Yesterday will slide into tomorrow
All the while the world would be less
A shadow of what it could have been
In a place of unawareness
Oblivious to its own lacking
Bathed in deprivation
All because
Of a missing
Unexpressed
Silent
Unexplored
voice!
Or maybe
Just maybe
One letter
A tiny little letter
will grow into a word
Several strung together a stanza
Several stanzas a poem
An honest to goodnes poem
Then we will all be witnesses
To the emergence
The screaming or quiet entrance
The proverbial birth
of a singular voice
of a wide eyed dreamer
Then you will feel that collective sigh
as other broken dreamers applaud you
For on that day
If only you possess the courage
all will know
That you truly are
and always have been
a Poet!
For Tyshawn Knight's "Words of Wisdom" contest
Re edited version.
And when will the tides turn against confident indifference?!
When will humanity cease
To throw cats against curiosity’s silver coated dagger
Another played out song
Another dramatic lyric
Shifting embellished overtones
With deteriorating tact
They spit posthumous awakenings
As divinity laced smiles, wither under a convoluted moon
Shedding retina waterfalls
Misunderstood
Pretentious anger becomes Aphrodite mediocrity
Wisdom, they never “put out”
Crippled tears
Become self-important struts within olive tinted reckonings
Lambasted butterflies
Stirring hornets’ nest
Uninvited
They dream for better days
While double-knotting gang colored bandanas
On eagle’s achromatic foreheads
Another Woody Woodpecker band-aid pulled from condescending hypocrisies
…
And when will the tides turn against pilot light’s mal-intent?
When will the flinty sheep
Stop wondering how these charring, orange fires began
Forgetting the 115 octane gasoline can
They hold quietly in their hands
©Drake J. Eszes