Long Bipolar Poems
Long Bipolar Poems. Below are the most popular long Bipolar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bipolar poems by poem length and keyword.
Just how much courage does it take?
To stick to the plan that I’d made
And why should I be afraid?
To live my own destined fate
When all I could do is hate
All the things that I have said
Can’t I just stay in the bed?
With no sorrows and no regret
But the image of it in my head
Keeps on replaying until the end
LIFE
What kind of life is this?
Sometimes I sit and reminisce
I think about my distant past
The life for me that didn’t last
The life that one day went away
And now it is more work than play
Now I take medication every day
For my Bipolar that is here to stay
Don’t worry though, this is not the end
I’m not going to sit and pretend
There is something else going on
My creativity has grown strong
Life is what you make it
And I am going to take it
Wherever it wants to go
Where it stops, nobody knows
Now I write poems and songs too
It’s a very nice thing to do
If you love doing something, give it a go
Let your creativity flow
Live your life from day to day
Chase those rain clouds far away
Life can sometimes throw you curve balls
Will you run or will you fall?
It’s your life, you can do it
It’s your life, you’ll get through it
It’s your life, it’s your life.
Born of stone and scripture, a chiseled child,
Shaped by shadows, where duty smiled.
A father's fist, a granite line,
Molded expectations, a design divine.
Mother, a tempest, wind in her hair,
Bipolar whispers, a haunting flare.
Her moods, like lightning, crackled and surged,
Leaving scars in shadows, unspoken, unpurged.
Within this fortress, my spirit confined,
By laws celestial, a heart defined.
But beneath the surface, where secrets hide,
A yearning for freedom, a restless tide.
Will the sculptor's hammer cease its cruel art?
Or will I break free, tear the canvas apart?
From Heaven's chisel, and storms untold,
A soul may emerge, brave and bold.
So I stand at the crossroads, where shadows contend,
Will Heaven reclaim me, or will I transcend?
With one whispered promise, one defiant spark,
I'll forge my own path, leave a rebel's mark.
Born of the Heavens, haunted by the wild,
The chiseled child rises, a spirit reconciled.
My healthiest ego-loving master plan
converses in truth and beauty communions
with my wealthiest imagined eco-habitat
mistressingly designed
For co-invested
cooperative master planned
in win/win work distressing play,
mysteriously
mighty curious
BiNomials,
all double-capital eccentric
UnCentric
neither positive
or negative
bipolar
yet both positive
and negative dipolar
to become regeneratively healthy
enlivened
enspirited
enlightened
BiNomial awareness
means ecosystemic flow
streams positive/negative
full win/win through empty lose/lose
double-fractal octave spectral
not quite resolved
for leftbrain deductive-only
closure
Of Both/And hypotheses
for synergetically multicultural
polycultural healthy democratic theories
impressing/depressing cultural values/disvalues
CoAligning,
syncing up and down,
out and inside
safety and health
Organic NeuroSystemic Life
as love's enraptured energy
and not so much death of sacred grace
secularizing entropy,
More of an ecofeminist
egalitarian restorative order
and interdependent punishing
dissociative patriarchal complex
reductive negative
pathological memories
Shadowy monocultural v polycultural awareness
of chaotic complexity
felt inside voices
touched by darkening outside choices
Except for MultiCultural
GlobalGreen
InterFaith CommunioNations
restoring wellness-sung FaithPower
healthy-wealth invites
LoveLight
binomial dancing Communications.
My healthiest ego-loving master plan
converses in truth and beauty green communions
with my wealthiest imagined inter-faith eco-habitat
mistressingly win/lose competitively designed
in this unfaithful GreatTransitional moment
toward win/win healthy democratic
green peace revolution
of Earth's HealthJustice
My healthiest ego-loving master plan
invites converging
in truth and beauty green inside communion voices
in my wealthiest imagined
multi-faith ecohabitat informed choices
for healthy leftbrain deductive powers
and wealthy rightbrain inductive light.
Alan Simpson,
a Wyoming Republican,
not known for his socialist ways
nor his sacred communion means of public discourse,
cried out in our Great Dark Night
of white bold
and climate cold
fragility,
"Money's dominance over politics
isn't merely one problem of many
our country faces.
It is the problem!"
Perhaps neither Wyoming
Republicans
or Alan Simpson
would mind this contextual paraphrase,
Capitalism's competitive
LeftBrain cultural and educational systemic dominance
against healthy multicultural empowering politics
isn't merely one complex problem
of many win/lose communication complications
our 2020 Species faces,
Yet does not RightBrain see and hear
as absence of WinLeft/WinRight cultural
and climate
intersectional wisdom.
We have become LeftBrain predative
partisan capitalists;
THE win/lose,
degenerating toward lose/lose economic-political
climate problems
of either/or partisanship,
religious fundamental bipolar creeds of elitist bad faith,
tolerant of secularized apartheid
Devoid of sacred active win/win communion
for organic ecological theology
or theologically health-metaphoric
muse-metaphonic
music-polyphonic
harmonic metapathic
resonant polypathic
resiliently co-empathic
co-passionate ego/ecology.
All of which
strangely reduces Alan Simpson's original version
to a summary democratic constitution
condensed milk of RightBrain both/and flexible resonance
urgently, yet more warmly,
seeking health/wealth rememory
regrowing out and in climate cultures
toward expanding win/win global family.
Fear is a Sin
Fear is a sin, for fear is the mercy killer,
Fear is a sin, for fear grips the forces of empathy and compassion and torments
them to nothingness.
Fear is a sin, for fear causes God loving saints to hate their Muslim sisters,
Fear negates the grace of a God who is always there and always will be.
Fear invites the forces of darkness to play games with the conscious and
unconscious mind.
Fear causes us to choose sides when no real sides exists, caught in the
cacophony of bipolar partisanship.
To fear for another’s salvation is to negate the reality of a grace that never fails.
Fear is my enemy.
Yet I will not conquer it.
For to conquer it, is to fall to it.
Rather I will focus.
I will focus on truth, and grace, and mercy.
And in that focus, fear will fade like the lie that it is.
She gets up in the morning at half past five
With a sudden electrical urge to be alive
She takes on the road with nowhere to drive
She’s summer at noon, a sun that survives
Like a bee that goes from flower to flower
Her thoughts race at a hundred miles an hour
She can’t stop moving, she’s always thinking
Even when she’s alone, she’s never shrinking
But even the sun is heavy when it never sets
It wears you down and leaves you with regrets
Every source of light, a stimulating threat
You’re tired and burnt out like a cigarette
She’s losing her glow, she’s lost in the gray
The happiness she once felt has been betrayed
Her soul’s set alight while the darkness invades
And the fire she carries just carries her away..
“Fear whispers worry into your ear, anxiety into your hopes and doubt into your faith… Love whispers hope and peace” – by poet
With a brain washed pale
By voices thundering
Silent screams echoing through me
Clearing away the debris
Of disappointment and disillusionment
My mind darkened on a clear night
No stars twinkled through my thoughts
And the blaze of my heart
Was smothered beneath the darkness
That was like a consuming fire
Shooting flames through my mind
Resonating fear and doubt
Clouding my soul with black suspicion
Breaking away all the hope and faith
Pouring disgust through my veins
Marking the way for desolation
Despair and waves of guilt
That sauntered across my emotions
Coloring me in hues of gray
Bipolar disorder screamed
Beneath a mask of whispers
And I cried – tears of desperation
Tears that flowed out of me
Relentless, unceasingly
And I prayed for peace
That only God could bring to me
Philippians 4:7 (King James Version) And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
March 23, 2021
Fate; is it something near or that afar?
Is it carved in stone or written in sand?
Eternal wonder — space surrounds the star.
Cosmos; uniquely dealt to each a hand.
Dearest Mother Earth, is my father...Time?
I feel that both have connections with me—
this search for myself spent stuttering “I’m”...
Depths of both filled with reflections of me!
Fight or flight? Still; bipolar gravity—
a chain of events logic can’t equate...
Metaphysical or analogy?
Alice? Atlas? Parallel postulate!
Mysterious. Civil poor are battling.
Affluence. Civil war foreshadowing.
November 27, 2020
“A Foreshadowing”
Edward Ibeh
bringing out the garbage.
not in bags but inside boxes.
smells so bad.
books and all my bull.
bristles.
barely able to breathe.
baked in butane.
burning it all into oblivion.
banished borders.
barriers.
brine and bristle.
bursting.
buried in the backyard.
benign, yet blasphemous.
bouts of boredom begin again.
blended with bacteria.
biting at my brain.
a billion bits of alphabet.
but none is ever submit.
betting I’ll never be bred again.
bed beckons.
but there’s a therein.
biting.
bleeding out in barometers.
blisters.
blasting me for a burial of bliss.
besides what’s better?
borderline or bipolar?
not sure anymore about it.
breaking bullets.
bits of bone in a barrel.
but I’ll begin again.
bustling.
bludgeoning.
blossoming.
becoming a beast like beating.
breath bleating.
retreating into the bleak.
black holes.
buttoning up my best dress.
breast beading.
leading to a baked out feeling.
no one believes in.
bibles on the battalion bar.
brittle from the battle but bustling.
by the by I’ll buy it all back.
then pry it open from behind.
it’ll be back.
brackish but boiling like butter.
brother doesn’t bother.
before it breaks into bitty bits.
bit into by the bitten.
backstabbing.
besting all others besides Bukowski.
perhaps Blake.
for Christ’s sake baptized.
but bound by some Beelzebub.
blessed be the blind.
because they know not beauty.
but it’s 6 a.m. baby.
is that our breakfast baking?
eggs Benedict and bacon.
biscuits with gravy.
it’s all over anyway but the blues—