Best Well Adjusted Poems
Every family has them
These unsettling times these misunderstandings
Times when many things come into play
In most cases these wee spats are soon over and forgotten
But sometimes differences run deeper
Because of other factors
Such as jealousy, middle child syndrome personality
It's only human nature at play
The necessity for all to find our place
In the overall scheme of life
To establish one's self in the pecking order
And accepting it without malice, without jealousy
A hard lesson to learn when we're brand new at he game
Always suspecting that siblings
Are the ones receiving preferential treatment
In reality, they are reacting in exactly the same matter
Trying their best to learn the ropes
To understand what life means what life is all about
But we never do have all the answers
Even if we survive those uncertain early years
And live to the ripe old age of thirty
Well that is what old age is when you're a teenager
Please be assured, you WILL get through
And be a well adjusted adult
You, who are so perfect in my eyes, so beautiful- adorable, and I, so flawed, ugly, damaged and crawling with defects; why do you enjoy my company?
You, who are so sleek and slender, humming with a quiet intellect and a serenity about you, and I, so grossly overweight and pretentiously boastful and nervous; how can you abide my company?
You, who are a paragon of patience, so understanding and self-assured, and I, so insanely impulsive, so myopic and brimming with self-doubt; how do you stand my company?
You, who are so sweet, so considerably kind, so thoughtful and generous, and I, so bitter, so selfish, so self-absorbed; why do you choose my company?
You, who are so self-composed, full of self-control, so sound and stable, and I, so very neurotic, so completely compulsive and verily volatile; how can you tolerate my company?
You, who are so diligent, so driven and ambitious, so achieving, and I, so lackadaisically lazy, so uninspired, so complacent; why do you settle for my company?
You, who are ethical, so moral, so very virtuous, and I, so corrupt, so unprincipled, so wholly wicked; how can you endure my company?
You, who are so normal, so well-adjusted, so conventional, and I, so maniacal, so unbalanced and irrational; why do you condone my company?
You, who are bubbling with charm, who loves unconditionally and is absolutely accepting, and I, boiling with rage, fueled by misanthropy and incredibly intolerant; how can you welcome my company?
That you love and accept me for who and what I am, is a treasure beyond measure. I cherish your company, but why you cherish mine is something I cannot fathom. All I know is that I love you, my dear, beloved friend.
**This was written for two very dear friends: Karen and Tommy :)
***I also love palindromes ;)
*****FREE VERSE OLD AND NEW ENTRY
To
belong
and be loved.
These are two things
the human psyche
needs in order to feel
happy and well adjusted.
When dealing with our fellowman
we should always try our very best
to season our words with love and kindness.
It was a Wednesday;
a day woven
into prison blankets and dish towels.
A day to assess hours unnoticed.
A time of trivial hungers.
The hard heft of earlier times: -
not fitting into anything,
teenage fluff and huff. Heartbreak,
rearing and loss. The fallow traipse of age.
The clinical clunk of clay feet.
Making room in a grave-yard moon,
for faces mislaid.
Those hard rows were all well hoed.
Washing a closed face in a misty mirror.
Listening to the coffee percolator.
trying to shave before its last burble,
ears catching the dark drops of a winter rain,
he creeps again too close
to a hole in his mind.
He should not be doing this still,
but the hole keeps tugging him.
He must keep throwing raw meat
into that roaring silence.
The hole is deep, and the end of it, is no end.
He wishes he could at least,
install an elevator.
for his ghosts to ride up and down on.
It would give him time
to drink more coffee, and write
some polite, well-adjusted poetry.
Another dead from injuries
In this latest mad attack.
Gun-downed by a supposed friend,
She had no time to fight back.
The fifteen year old gunman
Has died by his own hand.
Because of him, two others dead.
No one can understand.
Four children injured badly
Upon the schoolroom floor.
But for the heroic teacher,
There would have been some more.
We find this in the paper
And with a shrug of rage,
Keep reading other items
Then turn to the comic page.
But this one came too close to home,
Just another town away.
She could have easily been ours,
That lost grandchild today.
He didn't fit the pattern,
A well adjusted child.
No one can say what happened
To make him go so wild.
Experts as well as amateurs
Will have pet theories why
A cared for, beloved child would want
Someone's loved child to die.
By: Joyce Johnson
(This happened this Friday at a town near my own. )
“Chasing Ghosts in Cars”
Like automata
we walk inside
winding up the stairs
it’s all mechanical
the romance
programmed
by steep degrees
in the
well-routined
we can walk
through walls
anywhere
to look out
our windows
towards the better view
each cell in the body
and mind renewed
we expurgate
the misplaced
misconceptions
of others, of ourselves
it’s fair-weather sailing
out there,
the transparent come and go
best to turn
a blind eye
a swift kiss on the cheek
make it brief
then close all
your doors
to their artful dodger hauntings
friendships and felicitations
their joyful gleaming commiserations
whole oceans
full of souls
walking and swimming
treading water
all the floating
poesies planted
mindfully fragrant
fresh bits thrown
parlayed introspection
deliciously blooded with the sharks
such hungry poets
with a well-adjusted
deep knowing
and a quiet
unthorough
understanding
of another
unknown equation
in the real world
never making
premature
judgements
outside is a risk
we all take
we write what we know
we know what we write
ghost written
in the Daily Phantom
in the gloaming fantasy
there still exist
real ghouls calling us in
hungry for kindness
burying pity for
the honesty it lacks
inside we are listing
the volume we turn up
to hear messages better
we are
listening
to cars
lyrics
we wish you
to know
to be understood
when you are
chasing ghosts
some say
they’ve gone too far
they’re too far gone away
forget-me-knots
hanging loose
chasing ghosts in cars
Machiavellians
gone astray
the naked minds
of
undressed nuns
and
sanctimonious preachers
oiling their guns
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Here in my car
I feel safest of all
I can lock all my doors
It's the only way to live in cars
Here in my car
I can only receive
I can listen to you
It keeps me stable for days in cars”
listing/nautical.
“Listing” is a nautical term to describe when a vessel takes on water and tilts to one side. A ship can list either to port (left) or starboard (right). By contrast, a ship is said to be “trimming” when she tips forward or backward.
one: I'd rather be a weirdo who knows right from wrong than a well adjusted moron who does not. two: respect, true respect, is the truest and only real form of love.
Contrary to the popular consensus
Poets in general are very well grounded, well adjusted
As opposed to the general population
It's the average Joe or Jillian out there that are in question
It's really not their fault, it's due to the state of the world
The constant bombardment of negative news
That we constantly receive daily
Negatively affects us year after year, decade after decade
It never gets any better... in fact it's worse AND scarier
But I've said it before and here I say it again
Rise above it and carry on in spite of all the negativity
In my experience, it's really the only way to survive
I seem to be harping on this theme a lot lately
But in reality, I'm just trying to give you the benefit of my 79 years
And what I've found has helped me get through
Really I'm no great stinker... uh, thinker
Just passing along what I've learned!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Every family has them
These unsettling times, these misunderstandings
Times when many things come into play
In most cases these wee spats are soon over and forgotten
But sometimes differences run deeper
Because of other factors
Such as jealousy, middle child syndrome, personality
It's only human nature at play
The necessity for all to find our place
In the overall scheme of life
To establish one's self in the pecking order
And accepting it without malice, without jealousy
A hard lesson to learn when we're brand new at he game
Always suspecting that siblings
Are the ones receiving preferential treatment
In reality, they are reacting in exactly the same matter
Trying their best to learn the ropes
To understand what life means, what life is all about
But we never do have all the answers
Even if we survive those uncertain early years
And live to the ripe old age of thirty...
Well that is what old age is when you're a teenager
Please be assured, you WILL get through
And be a well adjusted adult
© Jack Ellison 2014
I was the last of ten children in my family
Nine lovely girls and li'l ole me
Spoiled you may rightly assume
WRONG!
I was the sweetest well mannered offspring
That a parent could ever wish for
Even to the point of being withdrawn
All through my teenage years
I had an inferiority complex
Never thought the opposite sex
Would ever be interested in me
Early on in my career as a graphic designer
Things began to change dramatically
My success gave a new found confidence
And suddenly I saw myself in a different light
Which allowed me to open up my heart
And function as a normal, well-adjusted human
With all the ups and downs, the highs and lows
With all the hopes and dreams everyone possesses
Married Linda, when I was twenty-two
Linda was eighteen and wanted despareatly
To get out from under the control
Of an extremely dominating and controlling mother
Did she love me?
Looking back, I would say no
I was her ticket to freedom
Not a good way to start our married life together
Oh our marriage was a happy one at first
But knowing that she really didn't love me
I was always trying to MAKE HER LOVE ME
But I never felt like I succeeded
We had three kids of our own
And we adopted two others
Those adopted kids were my way of trying to tighten the bond
To give her everything she asked for
But I never ever felt that I succeeded
She passed away at fifty-nine from breast cancer
At the same time, her younger sister Cathie
Was going through a nasty divorce
We supported each through those difficult times
And it was only natural, we fell in love and married two years later
Cathie really does love me and for the very first time
I am happy and content with my life
Which is all I ever wanted...
Now you know my story!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Let me begin by saying
Personally i am Pro-Choice
Its your life live it as you see fit
Who am I to tell you what to do ?
So what I am about to say
I know in reality is hypocritical
And only a personal opinion
Make of it what you will
Everyone has and is entitled to their own opinion
But for me I wish more than anything
Children would be allowed to be Children
My heart sinks when I see young Girl's
Caked in make-up , fake tan dressed up
Going to School
The fact that children are being told
Sex and gender is a choice
And children are expressing their sexual preference
When they shouldn't even know anything about sex
Let alone express a preference
If you are old enough cast your mind back
And ask yourselves this question
Were you worried about any of this
Or just having fun playing and growing up
With your friends
Life is full of choices
But Nature and Natural order should not be 1 of them
How the hell is a child to know what he or she wants
When they are 10
What kind of mixed signals are we teaching young girl's
If we dress them up telling them beauty is a path
Then expect them to be well adjusted and aspirational
Teach acceptance
And beauty can't be painted on
And that a Daughter
Is equal to a Son
Come on People
If we want to be equal
Then let children be children
And stop telling them what they can and can't do
They can make their own choices
When they are old and wise enough
When they are done playing
ADELAIDE REQUIRED AID
Adelaide adored me
Ingrid ignored me
Adelaide and I made quite an odd pair
Yet Ingrid had silver silken threads instead of hair
Looking up to a cloud laden sky I prayed to heaven for Ingrid’s heavenly pleasure
Looking up to a syrupy and sunny sky I begged God that I might discover Ingrid’s buried treasure
A female fortune sealed in a locker by two silent lips and secreted between two sultry hips
But in the material that makes up time some fabric often frays while a seam sometimes rips
And even an expensive faucet drips
With assurance I assign Ingrid as an extravagant and excellent source of radiance to beheld by me
And oh to be held by her
To meld with her
As my desire swelled and I swooned to a lady attuned to and beholden to beauty
But as for Adelaide I found her ignorant and distasteful for ignoring and boring me
Whatever she chose to discuss would disgust me with distinguishable diatribes
before I forbade Adelaide from approaching me or broaching another subsequent, sequential and inconsequential subject
Adelaide adjudicated me well adjusted with an adjunct to adulation
While I grew agitated by her aggravation
Until I made Adelaide fade
And found further feminine flair in a woman with silver silken threads as her hair
© 2012 copyright© …..PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
Stoking The Dream Machine
by Gabriel Magno
the rocking horse stood idle, the tricycle had rusted,
the grown up children had their share, and now are well adjusted.
Virginia mountains’ hollows, filled with dirt poor children playing,
in blue jeans stained with red mud, as grandmas sat crocheting.
the knock-kneed mailman suffers, as he walks through Winter’s blizzards,
the hobos near the railroad track, place bets and race their lizards.
the last train passing through, arrived at noon from Corpus Christi,
with sailors who had made a run, to barrooms serving whisky.
and me I’m passing time, as I try hard in understanding,
how crows atop the mayor’s car, did such a perfect landing.
here comes the ice cream truck, the silver bell is ringing,
the children playing in the park, drag feet to stop their swinging.
In droves the town folks came, to see the tiny tight rope walker,
the ticket seller smiles, as ladies swoon to this fast talker.
the bluebird circles in the air, to gather monarch butterflies,
If this a dream I’m floating in, I hope and pray it never dies.
Here's a question for
Whomever may have the answer
Because I am not in possession of it
Neither am i a fan of massaged statistics
And so called experts who them through
The media supply endlessly in droves
But how many young children are choosing
To take their own lives and commit suicide
Today more or less
Than two decades ago
Given that they are told they can be
Identify as anything they want or wish to be
Cancel culture has defeated hate
Racism and sexuality are no longer an issue
And expressing our feelings and opinions
Will set them free and in doing so
Help countless others out there
Who feel exactly the same
And always leads to positive change
Social media and living your life out
Online is far better and a more productive
Way to learn than from say actual people
Who may not have to look up
Have actual life experience in matters
That may be of use if asked for council
Not scoffed at disrespected and treated
as a joke
Which when you yourself will probably
Much later older and wiser become
Will eventually in time as well realize
When your time comes around as it will
That you weren't quite as smart as you
Initially at first thought
When the numbers are all counted and in
And they paint a pretty grimm picture
As every year more and more
They expedientially go up and up
And expose the sad but real truth
That modern day children are being
Forced into sacrificing their childhoods
By being exposed at a far to early
formative age
To such adult themes
They are simply not well adjusted enough
Or prepared to handle or deal with
As it's not only killing their innocence
And happiness in the process
But it's also taking and costing
Lives as well
And yet we tolerate this
Believing it could never possibly happen to us
Or in fact it's ours that could be next
Zeitgeist
“ It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society ”
J. Krishnamurti
1% of the world’s population owns 40% of the planets wealth
34000 children die everyday from poverty and preventable diseases
50% of the world’s population lives on less than $2.00 a day
Only 3% of the U.S.A’s wealth actually exists as money the other 97% is digital
$1.00 in 1913 required $21.60 in 2007 to match its value; that is a 96% devaluation in 94
years since the Federal reserve came into existence
“ If there were no debts in our money system there wouldn’t be any money ”
Marriner Eccles Governor of The Federal Reserve 1941
Perpetual debt is guaranteed by the Federal Bank
Money was created in the Banking system and ultimately returns to the Banking system with
interest. Who are you working for, none other than The Banks. This is Economic slavery.
What life is there without money, when everyone must feed and house and care for
themselves we become wage slaves. Money is the most ingenious scam for social manipulation
ever created.
The majority of people in the United States have no idea that they are living off the
benefits of a clandestine empire; that today there is more slavery in the world than ever
before. The un-elected leaders of this empire are the giant corporations, the invisible
powers behind the controlling force of money. Their goal is to maximise profits regardless
of the social and environmental cost. The two largest of these corporations are, The
International Monetary Fund and The World Bank. Poor countries who’s governments have
initially welcomed the help of these corporations are now paying back debts that exceed
50% of their countries wealth. Leading to mass poverty in these countries.
There are 51 giant corporations in the world 47 of which are American.
Something is very wrong here