Best Psychosis Poems
“american psychosis”
on the road,
the dream
begins.....
the sun is burning
a fever in the sky
upon the endless serpent
a serial killers life
diseased upon the road
into the darkness
i fly.....
this is where it
all
comes together
the pure
release
of freedom's
forgetfulness.....
i twist the throttle
speed is time
time is speed
as the sun is setting
i feel the need
in the night
the shadowed coolness
neon eyes reflecting
what the day
never will see,
the american night
where our dreams
born
from valleys
to where earth
touches sky
what is
true......
early morning
in the industry
factory
where even the sun
bleary
black and white
day to day
is beyond me,
i could not be slaved,
i gas
chain smoke
sugar fix
and the road
calls
sirenly.....
every mile
a day
studied
at 80 miles per hour
then just as the past
left behind
on the side....
under a bridge
the assassin of youth
stalks
as we laugh
and curse the sun
for we can knowing
it is not death
to fear
but life.
3 days on the road......
……Somewhere a lone survivor of a plane crash
A man of sound and reason
standing tall and proud.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to break out.
Delusions like a serpent,
coiling in his brain,
Paranoia like a venom,
oozing from his core.
Twisting truth and logic,
driving him insane.
The world a hostile army,
waging endless war.
Dissociation like a vise,
squeezing his soul tight,
A mirror of identity,
shattered into shards.
Lost within the maze,
his selfhood out of sight.
The pieces of his being,
scattered near and far.
Psychosis like a demon,
dancing in his mind,
The music of madness,
playing its eerie song.
Illusions like a spider,
weaving webs to bind.
As his grip on sanity,
was slowly being wronged.
Not working…..
He found a radio, a possible voice of hope and light.
…..Working
Then a change of course,
a turn of fate’s design,
A mind once plunged in madness,
now rising to the fight.
From blackness to brightness,
a force of hope divine.
An ascent from affliction,
a story of great might.
As his grip on sanity was
slowly being restored,
Illusions like a spider
weaving webs to break.
The music of madness
playing its final chord.
Psychosis like a demon
dancing in his wake.
The pieces of his being
scattered near and far,
Lost within the maze his
selfhood comes to light.
A mirror of identity
shattered into stars.
Dissociation like a vise
squeezing his soul bright.
The world a hostile army
waging endless peace.
Twisting truth and logic
driving him to sane.
Paranoia like a venom
oozing from his fleece.
Delusions like a serpent
coiling in his mane.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to fade out.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt?
A man of sound and reason standing tall and proud?
A lone survivor of a plane crash……
Anxiety Borders Crazy Dementia Erratic Frantic Grasp Hyde Introduces Jekyll Kooky Lunatic
Manic Neurotic OCD Psychotic Quack Rage Schizophrenia Tirade Unbalanced Valium Willing
Xanax Yearns Zen
Imagine one day everything's fine
Next day you're in a psychward with a completely differen't mind
No one looks at you the same, not worth anyones time
Imagine going from happy and full of life
To trying not to end it, every single night.
Imagine what it's like to forget who you are
an 8 hour high, a life time of scars.
Self hatred, on a whole new level
Never smiling, never settled.
cold heart, twisted mind, that's just the start.
I pray for the day the reaper makes his mark.
The closest thing to happiness I've felt in years
is when I fantasize about death, letting go of my fears.
But I will not bow down, to a substance I hate
and I definitely know this is not my fate.
one day I'll be happy and I'll make sure of that.
I am a somebody, I will come back.
In my time of misery, spent it all by myself
say I'm too far gone, but I'm from the highest shelf.
I'm a survivor, say what you want.
If these haters, spent a day in my head
I'd give them an hour, most likely dead.
We are ordered to provide notice to avoid a global psychosis.
Your dedication to take this medication will give you the perfect prognosis.
Take your pills to ward off those ills. They affect your brain, you’ll all find.
It’s better for society that we remove this anxiety from your very unhealthy minds.
It’s a worldwide confession that we all have depression, A phenomenon from the beginning of time.
The men in the labs provide capsules and jabs ... to refuse will become a crime.
Please, God Please, don't let them kill me
She thought she heard him shout
His room is locked, the door is blocked
Three days since he's been out
A million fears he contemplates
Too scared to rest his head
He dare not sleep or close his eyes
Those eyes of bloodshot red
He tells her what he's hearing
And she says it isn't there
The doctor said the weed did this
She says it isn't fair
Sedation, medication, stat!
To save his mind, his life
Drugs of every shape he took
To fight the one he likes
Son, please say it's over now
Your here and yet your gone
The doctor says you wont be back
I pray to God he's wrong
And in and out, and in and out
The dope smoke that he breathes
And in and out, and in and out
The hospital, the streets
I know your there inside somewhere
His mothers voice was shaking
I know that when you quit this junk
You'll get back what was taken
Somehow inside his scattered mind
Her voice said to the drug
That he again someday would be
The kid she raised and loved
And in and out and in and out
The doc, the school, the gym
And in and out, and in and out
Till he again was him
The dealers came a dozen times
A dozen times denied
Until the day his clean date was
A dozen weeks behind
My son, my son, it's been too long
Please say it's you this time
He pointed to his head and said
I've taken back what's mine
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
Dedicated to those who "never came back" from marijuana induced pyschosis
Acidic insanity
drips slowly
on the unsuspecting brain
i insist on suffocating slowly
still
i refuse to die
imposing my will to weakness
avoiding applying the “why”
implications are closing in, opressive
my mind is open, fluid
suggestive
interposing meaning and form with
the spoken and written letter
the light source filtered through all this
wreckage
the squeaking moving in, opressive
regressive, the way my vantage remains
a disjointed unit-whole
you persist, and i suffocate quickly
you ask so nicely for me to die
deposing my God damned will to power
why do i seem to avoid the “apply”?
THE SYMBOL ON MY HAND IS BURNING
into the flesh, and back out from inside
illuminates Prison, a chasm, a prism
dividing a spectrum of impossible light
we wholly refract the soma, the psyche
The Panic transforms into beauty inane
compulsion, obsession, redemption, addiction
we know we’re alive
we perpetuate pain
I'm a Poet who's poetic potence
Is unnoticed
The beauty of my soul glowing
While they try to define the notion
An can't get the quotient
Laws of motion
Inside my body is forces
My mind in commotion
From thoughts exploding
Unseen gifts sowed in
Psychic genes in me loaded
A psychosis being for not being a cloning
In this brainwash world enjoyment
Lonesome
Chromosomes evolving
Until this being revolved in
I'm awesome
Got a calling
From GOD TO be involved in
At least I know I won't ever hear a dial tone
Setting milestones
To pile on
Top of tiles of stones
My ancestors ain't extinct even if they haven't found the bones
They live in me so now the crown is worn
(parody of the hit song sung by Dean Martin, “That’s Amore”)
When the moon hits your brain like the whoosh of cocaine,
That’s psychosis.
When delusions galore throw good sense out the door,
That’s psychosis.
Bells will ring (Ding-a-ling-a-ling! Wing-a-ding-a-ding!)
As you string yarns together.
Eyes will roll (Total load of bull! Total load of bull!)
When your whirlwinds we weather.
When you hear in your mind voices clear, stern or kind,
That’s psychosis.
To conceive them a sign or believe they’re divine
Is insane...
Still it seems such a wonderful dream since you’re
Under hypnosis.
Pardon me; you can’t see, but the reasoned agree
That’s psychosis.
DISTURBED MINDS
Pete was a handsome young boy, only fifteen years of age,
Had PSYCHOSIS, his reality severely distorted, a mental disorder,
Felt that his brain was contained in a wrought iron cage,
Knew that ultimately, his life would be harder and shorter!
Pete’s father, was the local village mayor, his mother a social worker,
His father had influence and could exercise force, he had LEVERAGE,
After a FRAGMENT of conversation, promising his son was no shirker,
Secured him a job with the carpenter, a daily lunch and a beverage!
Pete would BEVEL, making slopes and angles in wood and stonework,
But was disturbed, his mind chaotic, could see it in his eyes,
He met Kylie, a young girl with the same condition, this did perk
Pete a little, visited a DERELICT house, confused, neither world wise!
They often discussed how different and unwanted and crazy they were,
And came to a firm decision, a determined blood RESOLUTION,
They would die together, and hugged and kissed, their beings astir,
No more meds, feeling bad or ugly stares, they would find a solution!
They made love, not knowing why, and began quickly walking home,
Passed a SINKHOLE, so dark and deep, if water could find a route,
To disappear, so could they, jumped in, so no longer did aimlessly roam,
Life was a cheat, gave a wrong ILLUSION, no one heard either shout!
EIGHT WORD CHALLENGE POETRY CONTEST
SPONSOR KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN
I dove boldly in to my psychosis
this gave me a kind of leverage
a tiny fragment of sanity
shiny bevel of edginess to my personality
so vulnerable, derelict, unloved
my resolution, a thought will blossom
explode in to this dark world
kill all the demons that ride on people’s backs
I see them clinging to people
I see them feeding on people
I see them, in the sinkhole
that ugly beautiful place, I visit sometimes
delusion or illusion
too scary, we need more love and kindness in the world
I’m swimming back to the top now
Entry to Eight word challenge poetry competition
Written 08.06.2019
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
She sits by herself in the dayroom
absent-mindedly taking her meds,
her head is a blank, she knows nothing,
as she's braceleted, brought to her bed.
Sedation has settled her nightmares
and delivered her safe from her fears,
but who are these strangers with clipboards,
where'd she come from, and why is she here?
She's showing no signs of aggression,
as a matter of fact she's serene,
no tantrums, no throwing or spitting,
picture-perfect, a story-book queen.
By day she's the doctors' conundrum,
every measure is tried for a clue,
but the secret is buried inside her,
closed for business, not out for review.
As night falls she's back in her bedroom,
left alone in confusion and tears,
frightened, with nothing to contemplate
but the screaming that no one else hears.
Night I am cold, though viscera burning,
I have pierced on a spit my torso turning.
Supposedly decomposing, et cetera;
words as per usual, concerning;
Do suggest a plethora, array, of conjured synonyms.
Inspire in me apathy, disinterest;
say, so that I can find Sleep. But once darkness fell,
I peeked under my pillow for it, and it was not there.
I even scrabbled around the flesh folds of dirtied blankets;
though I was compelled to make the gallant effort of
shifting the heft of my ungainly abdomen to one side;
My hand, adjoined in precarity, reached for my slowly pickling liver
in its jar on the shelf. Now you and I
acquainted in the present tense;
I extend my limbs, slender, so that you can't touch
the lazy pockets of fat inhabiting what I still seem to think is my Body,
stripping me of what could have been
a January summer in July;
Please help me fall asleep tonight in my own skin.
I clutch shards of ragged glass in my fists and take
a decadent sip from my bleeding palms;
these are metaphors flattened in tar and exhaustion,
and this is grief for images that will never be seen;
And my mind is stood hiding behind the curtain.
Drunkenly I tumble
into the arms of a Thesaurus with a mocking face,
and a man who loves for sport
26.01.2021, for Brian Strand's All Yours (Jan 26)
In the quiet, darkened corners of the mind/
Where shadows stretch and twist, emotions bind/
Lies a land where peace is hard to find/
Admist the chaos, stress leaves us blind/
Psychosis weaves it's tale of fear and doubt/
Illusions bloom, and reasons fade out/
The world distorts, perceptions fall askew/
A fragile grip on reality breaks through/
Voices whisper secrets in the night/
Haunting dreams take away the light/
Innocent thoughts become monstrous and cruel/
And reason slips away, like water from a pool/
Stress, restless, tightens it's fierce embrace/
Driving heart and mind to frantic pace/
Seizures strike, like lightning in the storm/
A body's plead for peace, a soul's reform/
The breath catches, gasping, panic fills the air/
The struggle, gasping, drowning in despair/
Yet heartbeat steady, blood pressure remains/
A mystery that defies the body's claim/
Admist the tumult, seek the gentle touch/
Of understanding hearts that offer much/
For in the sharing, healing can begin/
And in the darkness, light will surely win/
So to my doctor, these words now impart/
May empathy and care guide their way/
To help find solace, and brighter days/