Best Psychology Poems


Premium Member Reverse Psychology

You are an enigma, 
only found hidden under leaves.
A colour in the rainbow still unseen.
Fate has formed your mind into a revolving door,
without pressing the buttons, 
it remains like dead seeds,
so I became your gardener to help you blossom -
perceiving you will flourish into the rarest rose.
Only you can soothe me from your thorns.

You are a sleeping volcano, sometimes senseless,
irritated by every polish to regain consciousness. 
When embers ignite within your enraged eyes,
fragile flames spiral into bitter bonfires -
visible from scorching scars on my soul.

I always wonder 
is this the last time I adorn my armour,
as I follow you into your internal inferno,
hoping your fulvous frenzies
are temporary like the last star.

You are a master in your art,
but I'm an alchemist with your secret ingredients,
so I tug your strings in reverse,
but never leave you dangling in a
disorderly drunkard manner,
because you are a unique, untouched gem.

Words are vortex to your heart,
so I summon silence to keep you on the edge,
but before you fall, I'm there to catch you.
You insist it's ebony, when it's ivory, 
so I tell you to go left, knowing you will go right
and when you say you cannot write,
I Whisper secrets to the wind,
aware they'll carry to you like a typhoon.
As you vent, your metaphors manifest the
honesty behind the poison in your veins.
Suppressed emotions become poetry.

When you imply, I do not feel
and you are hellbent to hurt,
your wrath leaves me hanging like a punch bag,
yet I never aim back, knowing calmness heals.

I can tell you it's the final spring,
or I've laid down my shield and sword,
but you are unable to halt the slaughter,
until the sour aftertaste becomes pleasant,
so I place sugar cubes, slowly on your tongue.

I was born to take the stones out of your heart.
In this cognitive warfare of intellect and logic,
where you push and I pull,
there is only one winner, no sinner,
as in your quest to prove me wrong,
you succeed and that my love is
reverse psychology.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Attention Seeker: Peers Call Her a **** Psychology Studies Her Mind

Give me the attention i need 
baby
Im craving you for my sanity
Ill be a naughty girl baby
Do anything you ask of me
Given me the attention i need 
baby
Show me i exist
Your driving me insane baby
With your lack of interest 
Im begging for my need baby
I can feel it deep inside
Its more than sexual 
exploration
Its more than one quick ride
Im beggin for your attention 
baby
I got nothin to hide

Premium Member Embers in the Wind, Threads for Tomorrow

Embers in the Wind and Threads 
for Tomorrow.
In the rising fog of the New Year let burdens 
take flight.
As failures lift like morning dew under the sun's 
gentle touch.
Let them drift away carried by dreams dissolving 
into the horizon.

Unbind societal shackles like chains rusted by time's 
unforgiving passage.
Let freedom persist a song echoing 
through the dawn.

Fly away barriers that sundered 
our hearts and
Vanish into the night's celestial jete.
For in our togetherness 
our strength restarts.
Like a melody each note harmonizing 
with the next
Ashes of isolation where unity 
finds its way.
We are a mosaic of dreams each piece interwoven 
of unity's play.

Welcome joyous days with 
wisdom’s spark.
Spin tales in a patchwork of 
blended delight.
Let harmony imprint minds and souls.
Like an ember’s warmth on 
a cold winter’s night.
Carry agape love a beacon through 
the dark.

Let this year transcend mere time's 
vibrant flow
A crown adorned with empathy's 
multicolored light.
Societal, psychological, philosophical 
in the know.
Unified we thrive, our unity ignites.
Threads of tomorrow woven in today's 
greatest show.

Ultimately, each voice a tremor 
in the wind can join the 
rising choral tide.
Each note a battle fought 
and won where shadows once did hide.
No longer solo in the dark but harmony 
in vibrant throng
We rise a symphony of souls where 
failures turn to song and singing:

May the Lord bless us with 
His grace
And guide us through 
each day.
May we seek His eternal 
loving face
And follow His peaceful 
righteous way.

May we find strength in 
His word.
And comfort in 
His soft embrace.
May our hearts be filled with 
His love.
And our souls with 
His unconditional grace.

May we walk in 
His radiant light.
Shining His boundless 
love for all.
Guided by grace our 
hands and feet.
Answering His utmost highest and 
loving call.


Premium Member You May Pay On Your Way Out

Ever take one of those psychological stress quizzes 
With one of those psychiatrist
Know-it alls?
Me neither.

Ever gonna?
Me neither.

What would be the point?
Oh, my GAWD! You should be depressed.
Stern look.

I’m not.
Then something is wrong with you.
Thanks.

That will be $150. 
You may pay my receptionist on your way out.
That’s it?
Yes, this was your intake session.

I get the receptionist’s phone number on the way out.
We are having coffee so she can tell me more about the
Awful psychiatrist she works for.

I do not feel badly about giving her a
Check that will bounce.

mama, there are monsters in my head

Like you, I too once entertained the childish theology of monsters beneath the bed.
Only, where you slept with your face toward the door, praying for survival, I turned my back to the darkness, because I did not care whether it killed me—
for I did not fear being destroyed when I was already tormented by the violence within my mind.

Premium Member Nazis

Nazis
Nazi society


Unfortunately they exist
Always
Mental poisons

They think they can
Rule over people
They are different nazis

Yes. They are psychologists
Some of them work for nazis

Psychologists want to drive the people
It’s a crime. Psychology is power, and money

Psychologists come from their psychological society
Psychologists want to rule humanity

Psychological society 
Want to rule humanity

Psychologists are
Nazis

No psychology
In my life

I want God


To Find the Open Skies

Forest fires in Canada
leave a haze in Iowa
and I can’t help but think
of how they have consumed
the land.

As I go for a Sunday drive
a wall cloud of smoke
in the sky before me
hides the sun

but the river
is at my side
rippling reflections
of sky.

A voice inside says
we must embrace
before it's lost
as I count the miles.

I round a curve
and for a moment I see
the face of someone
I loved as she smiled,
a memory unveiled. 

Yet I know 
fires are burning
out west
a story played out
every year.

I look into my self
and feel assured
as the sun emerges
and opens the skies.

    for every charred trunk
    that falls  a seed
    left in its wake

Premium Member Psychology Of Poetry

psyches of all bards and writers
synchronized crowd swimming in waters
yuppies and brave souls unheard by all
chanting audience in an imaginary stall
hearts we hide as words unfold
on paper and scrolls, always young never old
lasting ink or cellphone battery so strong
of thinkers and scribblers of prong
genetics of poetry or honed skill
your poetry in a song that inspires and fill

only the strong survives and remain
filaments of musing, project and pertain

poetic justice is justice for all
or no balance like a bouncing ball
ever and never will an artist to surrender or fall
triumphant in all writings, big or small
remnants of your undying soul
yours is the scepter and crown and tiara
  like winner takes all

Psychology

I am a psychology major in school, 
I think it is pretty cool. 
I can read people like words on a page.
When people smile at me, I can see their rage. 

Some say my talents are fake and absurd, 
I promise they are not, I can hear the unheard. 
I developed this skill as a boy, and it I could not avoid. 
In middle school I didn't play with a toy, instead, I read Freud. 

I see it as a cursed gift, 
I see a person and judge them swift. 
A nail biter has generalized anxiety, 
because we put too much pressure on them in society. 

I am not an optimist, 
nor am I a pessimist. 
I don't get this half  full or empty bit, 
I see a glass that has water in it. 

Every person's hand that I shake, 
I can tell if they are true or fake. 
A frat boy acts out in class and gets a suspension, 
When he was younger, his father paid him no attention. 

In a session, a person asks, “why do I do this?”
then they talk more, as I look into their dark abyss. 
Not everyone I talk to is clinically insane, 
Their mood is like the moon, it waxes and wanes.  

I see things you can't see in plain sight, 
the scary part is, I am almost always right. 
This is not something that can be learned, 
In my DNA at birth, it was burned. 

I can have a conversation with a complete stranger, 
I just look in their eyes and can tell if I'm in danger. 
A small, frail looking boy, I examined with a computer, 
I examined him, because he was a school shooter. 

I can talk to you and look in your eyes, 
then tell you that I saw your lies. 
If you don't believe me, lets place a wager, 
I promise you will lose to this psychology major.
© Chris Matt  Create an image from this poem.

The Reverse Psychology of Miss-Use

A simple observation of the things that people take,
Life in general without it, and the difference it would make.
Grass is always greener on the other side,
Happy to abuse ourselves, while our eyes are open wide.

But what would we then do, if life didn’t need that buzz?
We’d wake up high and wasted, and all consumed with love.
Nothing would ever matter, importantness wouldn’t exist.
Would we plod on regardless, in this natural legal bliss?

The norm would be abnormal, and visa versa too,
We’d tire of it eventually, and look to something new.
With everything so “right on” we’d really should be glad,
But the human nature down side, we want what we can’t have.

We’d bore of happy highs, get tired of that buzz,
Always yearning opposite, nothing seems enough.
The point that I am making, is easy to surmise,
Desire always for different, greed lurks in our eyes.

Always wanting more, a sad fact that is true,
Who can predict temptation and what it makes us do?
Onwards like a driving force, the ultimate we can get,
Be it drink, fags, drugs, sex or work, we’re all caught in the net.

Complex Number Psychology

My thoughts of you, and yours of me,
Can be portrayed mathematically:
To sum up every complex trait
We factorize and integrate,
And add imaginary parts
To make the vectors fit our charts.

Your thoughts of me, and mine of you,
Look reckless from a polar view:
The truly knowable and real
Are overwhelmed by how we feel,
Since we forget each magnitude
Is through an unseen angle skewed.
© Ed Morris  Create an image from this poem.

Psycho

trapped in the category of basic feelings, attesting to the functional regularity of the average human and demonstrating the crystal-clear predictability of their secular behavior, hatred, love, envy and jealousy consolidated practically all the advance and retreat of a race that eternally gravitates around its own navel, growing at the limit of the satisfaction of instincts and collapsing to the exact extent and at the time when it judges itself full and satiated, ignoring or comfortably avoiding understanding that both transcendence and evolution require the uprising of satiety, since this in everything resembles resignation and cowardice.

Professional Psychology

I can see it in your eyes 
your brain ticks over 
search supplies 
the lie with fall cover 
Because mother always used to say be aware of those around you 
their reaction to your actions giving clues how to act with them 

so I did but it didn’t flick the impulse switch off 
appearing distant as if I don’t look 
assured I wasn’t tell me off believing I wasn’t 
yell at me too need to look already was 

now I looked hard saw what I shouldn’t 
suddenly impulse takes control 
I look so quickly at lying eyes behold 
dishonesty or truth the 2 sights sold

see through whilst my impulse confuse 
actions speech diverting you
insults words no filter just blurt 
yet within all this I still observe

every week my psychology observed 
experts spoke to my parents helped me learn 
conversations of why I don’t concentrate and learn 

adhd gave me selective interests 
psychology one where calories invest 
I was impressed my hyper mind never rests 
find focus and psychology progressed 
disguised by impulse so natural 
paying attention looking as though I wasn’t at all 

made me realise I’m unreadable 
and it confuses so learnt to use this tool 
random strange so you can’t work out my brain 
I'm looking insane whilst I calculate game 

focus on situations 
knowing their intentions 
what motivated seeing their options 
string the circumstances 
how and what is their rewarding destination to pace on 
leave no chances I'm ahead 
stop them became so good tease and seem close no problem 

make them a fool 
you think I’m cruel 
avoiding a brawl 
make them look small, 
them target me retardently, 
but I’m weird cus I get psychology 
so I fight physical now psycho probably, 
but if men didn’t challenge my alpha status 
I would live normally, 
it’s them but you blame me not their insecurities.

I was 7 or 8 when I first learnt psychology
smart people only use it in defense you see
If I see scum manipulate for selfish gain
I beat them at their own game
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Reverse Psychology I and Ii

I. God desires your faith my dear, 
Sorry, I just know it's true, 
It's not really in my pay grade 
To explain God's love to you. 

With meager faith I also struggle 
Don't feel like you flail alone, 
Loving others seems to help though 
When He calls you to atone. 

Don't just reach out for what you're lacking 
Open up to servant's call, 
Giving what you need to others, 
Might be what serves you best of all.

II. So sorry that your hurting, wish it wasn't so 
So sorry that your angry, wish that wasn't true 
What qualifies me to act as God' ally? 
It's certainly not strength or virtue 
No, just my brokenness is why. 

No answer really, even where to go 
And what you feel is smugness speaking, 
That I'm here to show you cure, 
Is just a soul like you that's seeking 
No illusions that I'm pure. 

Sharing only what has served me 
With no judgments to apply, 
Knowing that your path is not mine, 
Still would hold you when you cry 
Still would be your valentine. 

Do not wish you harm, not your enemy, 
Don't suggest your words are crap 
Or with you more than reason, 
A friend it seems you won't unwrap, 
In this or any season. 

And though I hate to be a bore, 
You really think you can't love more? 
If service is your joy in life 
Why now so sad that you're a wife! ? 
Choose to show that you are free.

Brian Johnston
April 27, 2015

Premium Member The Weight of Time

(“Depth Psychology Merit Badge aka The Myth of Being”,  2015, original oil)

The Weight of Time

Experiences fall like snow flakes
Full and soft, floating down to settle gently 
Building up in layers, forming drifts
And, with the weight of time,
Ice in glaciers and massive shields 
That smother the ground
And eventually work their way to the sea
To form blocks of experience 
That then float away. 

Sunlight illuminates their inner being
Releasing memories all packed together
In sights and sounds, smells and feelings
Faces and words, thoughts and dreams
Hidden beneath a surface
In unfathomable depths
Each bonded with other moments
Supporting and sustaining
the notion of a whole
Greater than the parts.

Each of us exist like this
Bergs of distinct memory and identity 
Adrift and at ease
Subject to the flow of tides and currents 
Beyond our control or comprehension 
Subject of the ever falling snow
Full and soft, floating down to settle gently
In layer upon layer
Condensing into something more
Under the weight of time.

(12/21/24)

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