.
i'm
twine'd thuh
to
pain
((ow)))
*etymology;
"French puéril, Latin puerilis, from
puer boy; akin to Sanskrit putra son,
and Greek pais boy"
I tried to fold my fitted sheet
Took time to make it nice and neat
I tried my best
But was not blessed
It left me crying, "Holy sheet!"
Folding fitted sheets gives me fits
Watching more and more YouTube skits
Try hard as I may
It just doesn't pay
Enough—Now I'm calling it quits!
It's as if I'm trying to pour a storm into a teacup.
Voicing my reality,
a temperature too hot to touch.
Snickers across the room,
holding as much weight as the finger food left sat upon their plates
Noticing cracks in the fine-China
Others don't seem to notice.
Not able to unsee what has become fragile
while becoming careless.
I still know my own name.
The one spread in rumors,
and bouts of deep shame.
thats when the static they project
echo from the depths of my core.
Their static is loud.
but my signal endures.
When I call,
Try pick up;
Hear me out.
Just don't know,
Why you won't
Pick my calls?
You got heart,
but for who
If not me?
Santa is ready for his big flight,
Rudolph's red nose is really bright.
Santa's big bag is toy filled,
that elf over there is unskilled.
Will there be cold snow of white?
Elf's can be cute but very small,
wishing Santa would make them tall.
Santa said eat lots of fish,
as you make your tall wish.
Out of his bag came a new red ball.
Elf's always want to have some fun,
jumping on Rudolph now run, run.
Santa wanted to kill,
everyone took a nasty spill.
The crazy night of fun was done.
Whenever darkness looms through changing phase,
Minds- be each crazy or cool, doubt betrays
Light... struggling of essence strike;
Unlike electric that spike
Consciousness without denying truthful gaze.
Forty thousand duck attackers
call themselves the Southside Quackers.
In high places, they have backers.
They want more than cheese and crackers.
It's just like my mother said,
"Don't eat too much before you go to bed".
A husky odor un-blankets
a man whose erratic drainage
splatters the morning air
from some dark side of a fountain.
Fist-driven swings, as if he's driving in traffic,
he wheels my way, sucker punches the bus
stop's bench. Closing in,
before I catch the bus, he howls
spittle-spiced expletives.
Fists pound my torso.
An abandoned car's shattered window
stares back from under an overpass.
Once home, bacon has me burping, I can't stomach its warmth.
The warmth of home levitates room to room.
Grease-popping joints, and other rash sounds, I'm itching
to exit from four walls. My boxy space
heater hisses at drafts.
I think I'm enlightened when darkness is my friend
I hold myself accountable when retreating is the trend
I pray for the needy so i can curse them on a whem
I pay my enemies debts so i can abandon them in the end
I'll show mercy just to be vindictive
I'll stand on my walls to have a chance to be elusive
I'll lose consciousness so i can look intuitive
And I'll always ask how much i can take so i know what not to give
My name is experimental LSD,
and I'm on a psychedelic spree
inside a spider's tiny brain,
operating him like a wrecking crane.
All eight legs have their own lever,
I pull this one, that one, or whichever.
Dig these groovy spinnerets -
consciousness expanding jets.
If I were a fly on the wall at a DNA office,
I’d see one mama budgeting child support for two maybes,
hoping the high-earner wins the paternity sweepstakes.
A grown man doing a victory dance he practiced in the car,
while another looks stunned like the swab repossessed his last hope.
A grandma wiping tears of joy because her real grandbaby finally found her.
A whole couple discovering they’re cousins and breaking up mid-hug.
Three siblings realizing the middle one belongs to nobody in the room.
Just a fly dodging swats while families get swabbed,
watching bloodlines flip faster than reality TV plot twists.
Perfect people, do they truly exist?
I have always know of real people's twist;
Hatred cum flaws for being so,
Yet share enough love to foe
Who they owe none or should be in the list.
“The future is there... looking back at us.” - William Gibson
Pointing its ugly finger too... get on the bus, all of you.
Be here now because tomorrow never came.
Prepared for the worst, just the same.
Today is all we got, so make it the best...
Maybe we can change the future yet.
The past is always there... for it is why we’re here.
Seeing if there’s hope. Wondering if we care.
Looking for some answers... find them there, if you dare.
But don’t get lost, don’t be afraid
Even knowledge comes with a cost.
We must be brave and stand up tall
Even when the bombshell falls. So,
Enjoy every peace that you can chance
For anything can happen by happenstance.
.
who would want
tuh
baithe
*"baithe" spell'd with
astute think ')
* unintentionally thuh
double entendre (be that as it may)
picking up the bottle
putting it to my lips.
, its empty
start packing a bowl
getting higher and higher
losing touch with my soul
hearing voices that won't cease
constantly disrupting my thoughts
mumbles and murmurs
drive me insane
hearing thousands of people whisper my name
I'm losing touch with it all
I'm not sure what's left
Specific Types of Crazy Poems
Definition | What is Crazy in Poetry?
Poems Related to Crazy
absurd, batty, berserk, bizarre, bonkers, crazed, cuckoo, delirious, demented, deranged, eccentric, foolish, freaked out, goofy, insane, irresponsible, kooky, loony, ludicrous, lunatic, maniacal, mental, moonstruck, nuts, nutty