Long Certifiable Poems
Long Certifiable Poems. Below are the most popular long Certifiable by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Certifiable poems by poem length and keyword.
Life carried on brushing up pain
Each day I could hardly remain
Darkness seemed to be my only course
As I falter and enter ultimate remorse
I could not see what's going on before me
As life seemed dim I could hardly see
There only seemed to be one way out
Only one that I have known about
Sleeping pills were taken extremely
All at once, I was feeling sleepy
In a last minute impulse I called emergency
They swiftly came as I was quickly
Fading fast from this course of reality
I was nodding off to sleep completely
They kept me barely awake to the hospital
Where I was contorted to spill all
I was gagged forcefully as darkness came
Awakened again to find more pills taken
My throat agonized with pain within
From the horrible gagging motion
Pill after pill flowed out of my mouth
As I neared closer to oblivion, further south
Finally I was allowed to sleep
My dreams now were mine to keep
When I awoke people surrounded me
Looking very worried, disappointed really
I had survived the attempt on my life
A fear I will always remember, the strife
Now the world is back into my life again
The pain is seemingly always pounding within
Worry is written all over my family
Fear escapes my mother’s eyes completely
They do many tests to see if I’m stable
Then the diagnosis is depression, certifiable
Therapists become a part of my new life
All present and accounted for, no new strife
Things weren’t anywhere near like they were
When everything was dark, fearful for sure
I hated life, it was lifeless, demure
Then it seemed I had the perfect cure
But life chose me, and I survived
Now things work simply and I thrived
I had the presence to make the best
Of what life brings, to take in the rest
I hold dear now all things that this life brings
A warm feeling comes when fear is fleeting
A perfect happiness comes from simplicity
Bringing complexity down to earth sincerely
Love came swiftly with joy in the heart
Never felt more pure, never to be torn apart
Now that I had survived the brush of death
I now take pleasure in each and every breath
This is what happens sometimes when death knocks
And life gets switched around, time tick-tocks
Now since the terror has come and gone
Joy and pleasure have arrived as one
The future now looks a lot greater
Now that death will be a lot later
Russell Sivey
Entrant into Richard Tarr's "suicide survivor" contest
11/12/2012
SHE DRIVES ME UP THE WALL
She drives me up the wall like a slave-driver
O yes, she does ! but even though she may wield
the rod in her hand ever so threateningly at me
At the slightest suspicion of insubordination,
Leaving me cowering with fear, I love her just the same,
Perhaps much more than I ‘ve ever loved anybody else before!
I may ‘ve become certifiable as a result, who knows,
But whatever the case may be,
pray don’t judge me harshly until you ‘ve heard me out.
I love her for the same farcical reason that Socrates
Ostensibly loved that cantankerous woman Xantippe.
By temperament and upbringing, I find a woman who
Stands up to a man much more appealing than one
Who’s obsequious and complaisant!
What happened to me, therefore, was no accident but a
quantum leap; I had no control what so ever over the turn of events
That got us this far in our fledgling relationship.
Ever since I met her, my life, which had hitherto been
Fairly peaceful and uneventful, has, all of a sudden,
Taken a dramatic turn.
And like a minx, she has so turned my head around
I can’t tell for certain whether I am coming or I am going!
Suffice to say I’ve been acting up silly and rather foolishly
For a grown up person (I don’t know whether or not I still
Have any semblance of an ego left, what with this
Attractive je ne sais quoi I find so irresistible about her!)
Oh no, don’t tell me I’ve been doing this all for the
Wrong reasons ! or that I am laying it on thick.
It’s only me who knows exactly what I am feeling.
Besides, I am not talking morals here, I am talking
About what it feels like to love somebody to a fault.
If she did walk out on me now I can guarantee you
That would certainly be the death of me!
I am sure that’s not what you would all like
To see happen to me just yet unless of course
You’ve been spoiling for my death while pretending to be my friends.
When all else is said and done, I’d rather be
Henpecked than let go of this maverick specimen of womankind
Who has lodged herself in my life uninvited,
Making it her home, and has since then never failed
To drive me up the wall like a slave-driver with her rod.
Not only is she good sport, but like a morning
Star she’s such fun to be with, I promise you!
OLIVER MUKEMU
I will not hold back
My dreams have traveled
As far as the heavens exists . . .
And beyond
I have created my own dimensions
That I may dwell
In a certain certifiable solitudionous state
Where I visit
To reclaim my ‘Self’
And recover my divine balance
I have looked into the eyes
Of ‘Reciprocity’
And saw my self
Looking back at me
Examining my
Authenticity
I have spawned
Alternative lives.
Existences
That I have lived to their fruition
In but a
Blink of the eye
I saw you there
My heart has danced
To the undulating rhythms
Of concordant harmonies
Shared betwixt
The Waves of the Oceans,
The Moon
And the Mother of all things . . .
Earth
The pathways and the waters
Of Life
May be uncharted
But have I not been this way . . .
Before ?
I have sang along
With many different types
Of birds
Emulating their charming
Chatter, chirping
And the characterizations
Of their presence
And congruity
I have peered
With my naked primal eye
At the Sun,
The Moon
And the Stars
Embracing my endless possibilities
And all that may be
Can be,
Will be
And is
I saw you there as well
I have thought about things
Until I was high on them;
I have thought about things
Until I believed
There was no way out
Of the abyss
I created
From my own consciousness
I have even though about things,
Until my head began to hurt,
And my spiritual zeal
Wilted
Like the dated and
Unnurtured flowers
In the Gardens of Hope
I live mostly
With my heart on my sleeve,
But from time to time,
There are vagrant weeds,
Fears
And doubts
That visit my doorstep
Hoping to claim my abode
As a home
And share space
Along with my ego
And it’s un-founded esteem
My ‘Soul’ is of all things
And all things are
Of my ‘Soul’
And the truth of ‘it’
And all of its darkness
And grandeur
Can be found
‘Right Here’
In the ‘Singular’
We call ‘Now’
Will not you sing along with me
As we skip through this journey of wonder,
Wandering here and there
With no particular agendas . . .
But love
I see you there . . .
Me . . .
I will not hold back
© 6 january 2018 : william s. peters sr.
www.iamjustbill.com
Once upon a mountaintop a she-monster named Mazy
was searching for a man.
She wanted a young, honest alien man. Not a nutty old
tooth-jagged Monster like Bill or Dan.
We were horrified. Inner-galaxy dating was ridiculous.
It did not work, and was crazy.
Bill and Dan had already trained lots of wives,
and if anyone needed wife-training, it was Mazy.
She was an odd duck, always reading a book,
studying biographies, and learning crazy new things.
No Monster Man wants a smart wife; they all want an un-learned one
Who will let them be overbearing kings.
They want to be able to order them up and down, here and there,
Women who are non-subversively.
They want women who will submit to their will,
Think they are smart, and revere them unmercifully.
Mazy had been terribly spoiled. She had been allowed to paint,
and laugh, and sing, or hug a tree.
Worst of all, she was reading Encyclopedias, was working on her Teacher Training PhD.
All she should be taught to do is clean the cave out for her husband and bring his dinner on time,
This other junk, she would never use was an absolute total waste of energy sublime.
Mazy at 23 was not getting any younger -way too happy and pretty for her own “good”.
“She is certifiable,” the jealous ones said. “She will die a horrible death, alone, as a spinster should.
She was holding out for an alien man she had danced with on Venus in many of her terrific dreams.
He came down in his spaceship on a Thursday, and
Whisked Mazy away to where her visions had always dream-seen.
Leaving earth planet, some of us heard Alien Zeke tell her, “You may learn as much as you want now.”
What insane sorcery is this? That is crazy talk, right? We petitioned her to come back and bow.
We wanted her to choose Monster Bill or Dan and stop learning a new language every single week.
But for some odd reason, she stayed away, in the arms of her progressive alien man named Zeke.
Written Jan 25, 2019 Contest: A Fairy Tale For Children
Sponsor: Eve Roper
without asking for tangible receipts
but to pollinate greensward vis a vis
as pay forward recompense
many good samaritan instances
came my way of late, yet
hive heal stymied, how
unexpected gratuitous deeds didst whet,
a voluntary yen of mine
to pay back or forward
countless instances
to balance out scale reciprocation
doth weigh within mine conscious
and/or subconscious
giving back status unmet,
thus...this ambling, bumbling, fumbling,
et cetera sensate *****Sapien able Juan
Tim steady state Cane, tis ready and set
analogous to the tricks Seine
by a rheas ease pond dint
surveyed monkey smart pet
whom calculated thine net
total asper positive fortunate events this chap
and or loved ones within mine family met
since years gone by to the present moment let
me experience minimal anxiety
finds euphoric sensation within me (as if jet
ting into stratosphere,
and a counter force get
tin overpowering akin
to a creditable conscientious debt
begging to be honored as a non boastful bet
among the better angels of thyself
whom regulate acceptable, affordable, airing...
agreeable, amenable, un arguable heartfelt
good fella expressing deserved certifiable
bona fied ardent
action demonstrating appreciation
for innumerable, humbling deeds
done divinely deposing
dada's depredatory, depredation, depression
sans crucial life line feeds,
as genuine deep seated acknowledgement
as proof emotional, financial,
and spiritual bountiful personal necessity
receiving such psychic receipts heeds!
I have enough time
Yes 'cause love's alive and baby in its prime
Oh it is just like
Success ain't fun and games but for the saint's life
Yeah he'll pray but maybe Hell'll hit
Faithfully turn off the safety
Baby Cupid shoots shells with hollow tips
He'll lose an eye and they'll think he's crazy so
We'll say it gave him a gift
Baby the trait of a certifiable kiss
Girl I see you have more than usual
Yeah even before you visualize the visible
With a noble temper, mature and golden in a
A higher temperature than a crucible's molten innards
But there's a secret to your strategy
And it's a tragedy 'cause darling you had to be
So naturally keen at dodging me
And it's a line of defense
And girl you make a fence
So girl I take offense
Oh I know it's cliché but yeah they say that great men make it in-
To places few others who even do take the risk've ever been
But the only one in my blood that
That doesn't shine like the sun it
It naturally has to be the one where
I refuse to call it a pun when
I call you up to call you the one, there's
A secret to your strategy
And it's a tragedy 'cause darling you had to be
So naturally keen at dodging me
And it's a line of defense
And girl you make a fence
Hence I take offense
Oh to ward off Hell to reach towards Heaven
You play the chords
You make me insane but maybe I'll give you your credit
Oh to ward off Hell to reach towards Heaven
You play the chords
You make me insane but baby I'll give you your credit
by Michaelw1two
Thinking’s challenge is to weigh,
all of one’s life substance;
quandary thus, illogical fuss,
which blinds the mind's acutance;
adscititiously into thoughts bleed,
vitiated indurate boastance;
corrumpable sequella fortuity,
each thought, is truth’s desistance.
Retrospectively choices trial,
stands outside an untidy purport;
merycism seeps beneath one’s deep,
questions mythical adhort;
ex postfacto, pride’s precious précis,
ideas from ideals besort;
denouement cryptic episode,
Sphinges contend, issue alamort.
Sapience elusive rapture,
most minds need bethink acology;
humanity’s Id mulled,
without reference to a doctor of alethiology;
furgacious notions, become the norm,
arguments chime atheology;
Toison d’ or, parley prewar,
else high angels deem eschatology!
Medullary substance rare,
within rabid beings Tour de force;
coarctation, indeed strangulation,
dire result for living's bourse;
Nationalism's agenda, wiled racist theme,
keeps élan’s cry hoarse;
emasculation, Republican dream;
equates rule of thumb perforce.
Contemplative ideas abound,
behind the veil of Arriere Pensee;
insinuation to middle class,
jokes on all, laity economic refugee;
elucidation simplistic, vote for change,
or be laissez-faire etouffee;
sublevation, certifiable eminency,
party GOP national expellee!
Jan 2010
The lady, the lion, and the deep blue mouse.
Yes, it was a sultry day, a sunny day, an s type of day.
The lady wore a pleated skirt that showed her legs off like an open house.
The deep blue mouse was jolly, upbeat, excited, happy and gay.
The villain of the story was a gray cat, an ugly cat, a cat with mange.
This cat was 9 foot tall, 453 pounds, and thought she was all of that.
Some called her sassy, others used rotund, I only knew her a second, and I called her strange.
This darling story is set in Oxford, Texas, a town full of balls, but only one bat.
It's a simple tale, a wives tale, a Chestnut eve tale, this tale of woe.
The lady was not whom she seemed; she asked that we call her Racko, but her name was Lou.
She had hidden deep blue mouse in her pocket, after plying him with dough.
Yes, my readers, you have guessed it, mouse was out, and did not know
Lou intended to put him in the large, corpulent tooth-filled mouth of Strange Cat.
She wanted blue mouse gone, for her daughter had fallen in love with Blue, and it made her mad.
Not the angry kind of mad, but the "I am certifiable and should be President" sort of mad, right McGirt?
The lion was Blue Mouse's best friend, and he had telepathy, so he knew what he needed to do.
He put Blue Mouse safely aside, and ate up the lady, but he spit out the pleated skirt.
One o'clock in the morning,
we connect by phone,
Chicago to Boston. I tell you
about the ugly tomatoes I bought,
your in hysterics. Listen, I say,
they have a their own web site;
take them seriously.
We head to the fruit
while you read me a story,
it's about a poet, nabbed
by the cliche police.
You can hardly read;
I can hardly listen.
ROTFLOAO! We become certifiable
when Tom, Matt and Otto,
("The Authentic Grape Tomatoes") say hello.
I'm happy you had a good day
with your new screwdriver;
you're happy, and still laughing
about the ugly tomatoes. Somehow
we get from the perfectly round tomato,
(exploited and tasteless; engineered
by geeks and pushed over the top
by marketing geeks) that satisfy
everyone but the customer,
to my telling you, Wal-mart
has ripped the souls out of our towns.
You read me a poem. I read you a poem,
Franz Wright's "Publication Date" -
I get to my favorite line-
"A sparrow limps past on it's little crutch saying
I am Federico Garcia Lorca risen from the dead -."
and I'm gone again.
You solve a bump in your epic; I agree.
You read me another poem. We talk about our Kerouac trip
to Georgia. A late, late IM from my daughter
and I have to go; and you're ordering ugly tomatoes.
Good night, Gracie.
Here I am, in the mirror again, smiling in that weird way. The way that makes me suspicious of myself.
Good gravy, I am crazy. Looney. Certifiable. Where are the men in the white coats?
I watch my eyes carefully. They are mocking me. Then I stick out my tongue at my reflection.
Crazy.
In a weird way, the person in the mirror is not me. It is honestly not.
My left eye has some amber in it. I never noticed that before.
I hold my eye open and lean in toward the mirror. The eye is red when I let go of it.
Are my eyes a solid match? I blink wildly, trying to find amber in my other hazel eye.
Diabolical self, the one who thinks up underhanded things, and does them, smiles at me.
A big, evil, smile. A smirk.
Who am I?
Duh mah. Duh mah. Duh mah. My heart is beating too fast
As I stare into a stranger’s eyes.
A madwoman.
She grins at me in a hunter’s killing way.
A happy hunter’s killing way.
My husband calls, “Do you want eggs?”
We snap back together, madwoman and I. We are play-unified now, at our secret self core.
I grin at my reflection. It is time to pretend there is only one me.
“Sure,” I tell my husband. We are the great pretender.
Contest: Pick a theme Poetry Contest Sponsor: Viv Wigley Written 8-18-2018