Long Craziness Poems
Long Craziness Poems. Below are the most popular long Craziness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Craziness poems by poem length and keyword.
Word in words logically scraping speech
Word of words unlock hardened heart as priest preach
Word by word's exposition gain ground as sounds beseech
Word for word's daring compliment duly change to teach
Divided in divisions attentively awaiting wide open gate
Divide to divide confusion aiming to get hearts bait
Divide by dividing queries lured into an unending debate
Divide for divisions to be silent and no longer dictate
Born to burn boredom caressing darkness
Born to burn darkness' borne without prior awareness
Born of birth beyond scientific's cleverness
Born new birth- a magic yet amazing craziness
Light in fireworks beeping loosely creativity
Light lighting calm minds out of captivity
Light enlighten strangers' feet cum selectivity
Light lightening end afar when gold kisses negativity
Cool in cooler calming hotness foaming to burn tongues
Cool by cooler good at its usage correcting wrongs
Cool to cooling feet climbing life's ladder on open rungs
Cool for cool voices singing solemnly new hope songs
Freeze in frozen minds embracing caution to trap temptations
Freeze by free birds not returning for mothers' invitations
Freeze up freeman growing wings beyond limitations
Freeze out free Israelites wandering around manipulations
Hear tell ears of peace to pieces arrogance and ego
Hear from air blowing hot and cold to choose where to go
Hear about seer ranting of rest to all workers by will sow
Hear of spear piercing others cum eon's toast fondling woe
Tear apart tears inner eyes soaked in burning delight
Tear pairing code leading grace prospects into fright
Tear cheers growing solid cheeks hurting plight
Tear wears inviting comfort to blind eyes seeing flight
Full of fools open to wide gate of sulphur's flame burning spring
Full of rules that guides legs against commands of the mighty King
Full of truth to energize night of unknown songs morning sing
Full of tools rectifying faulty connections disobedience bring
Sent to sentence saint into everlasting cell never dreamed
Sent to sentence joy overflow through grace highly esteemed
Sent to sense need for change to shame end as deemed
Sent to see how blissful saints live having been redeemed
It was warm in the yurt; the desert was unyieldingly hot.
There was the slight scent of ylanylang, it was sweet.
The guy wearing the yarmulke had a captive audience
He was yacking to the point of yammering, I could barely watch.
Yack Yack Yack Yammer Yammer Yammer
How could these other guys stand it?
He was giving them his lowdown on the festival of Yule.
They yield the floor to him, which was insanity.
I know him well, and he has never attended such a festival.
Someone walked in carrying a tray of food including one yam.
That yam is mine! I yelled with a yowl.
I had not meant this as a yawp, but it came out that way.
I yearned to get out of this yurt, but the show was not over yet.
My cousin was stroking the back of an old man with yellow hair.
A youngster came over to me and asked for a bite of my yam.
I stared him down; I do not even like children; they have no place here.
This is for men, not babies.
Yum! I said. This is super delicious.
The youngster shrugged and waked off, seeming not to care.
Yesterday I might have been a bit more generous, but today I am angry.
I got talked into this gathering, and I knew it would be the Jerome show.
It is always the Jerome show when my cousin is about.
I yearn for the end of this craziness.
I want to go home and be me again.
With eyes turned up to the sky
In hopes to find that piece of pie
How many years of blood sweat and tears
Have you not yet made it out of here
Always asking for advice
When given saying that can't be right
All you've got, spinning like a top
Waiting for the ball to drop
You'll do this till the day you die
Wondering what is wrong with life
Feel the heat moving towards defeat
Press rewind and then repeat
Growing accustomed to the craziness
Pour more butane on the list
Stoke the fire, fan the flames higher
Situation is getting dire
How many times have you raised your hands
Surrendering over to life's demands
Always hoping for a change
Just this side of deranged
Moving along with the crowd
To the humming of the vacant sound
Religiously you find your seat
Press rewind and then repeat
Oh, lovely flowers
Greet my nightly song
Upon this starry, starry night
In my bed I see your plight.
What a dream it was
Sharing the love we had
All night long is sweet ever
In your embrace I quiver.
Oh, how lovely you are
To me, is just a fantasy now
As you turn my joy to sadness
You choose money than fondness.
Beauty to me is veiled farce
Love dies when money wise
Insecurities has reason to believe
When heart has no more vision to relieve.
How long this craziness I hide
When no more iota of trust remain
Love is funfare and self-eloquence
As grave is waiting great for a lonely prince.
When I raise my thoughts from the dead,
All become coloring beauties to my bedspread.
No one exist without a quirk:
Raising bloody craziness that irk,
Moulding new happy home-- an artwork;
Not only Innocent people do jerk.
To win; some envy, some criticize
And not only politicians politicize,
But I don't Know of what is it to actualize--
Reasons people stand to antagonize.
Conversation with myself is a boost;
To be belittled to such a roost--
It must have not been of spruced,
Yet doesn't need to be deduced!
The best bird's improvised nest:
Is in God's centered mind contents digest.
(Isthmus)
We drove all day on dusty roads to Xian
in the Shaanxi province
to see the clay men.
The army is deployed in large archaeological pits.
Our guide, a Chinese beauty, marshals us from the front
like any good general.
Her voice is a dulcet lagoon
in this desiccated place.
We all notice that her silk cheongsam
clings to her embroidered,
peach of a bottom.
The arsenic-poisoned emperor died as mad as a hatter,
believing a metalloid would grant him endless life.
It`s difficult to tell if his megalomania arrived
before his craziness, or after
but they buried him deep where insanity is timeless.
As we file out, I look back.
The clay spear carriers
the foot soldiers, the dusty officers
even the horses,
all of them seem to be stifling smirks -
their eyes latched upon
a heavenly peach, no doubt.
I'm familiar with the craziness, the chaos. The outrage of madness, when it all goes down I will never leave your side.. I think of it as Bonnie and Clyde. The aftermath when it's all said and done, the life we lived just to get by, just to get by I crippled many lives. Name one, which one, so many deserve to die. Pick one, which one, all guns will do the job. The Lifestyle of Bonnie and Clyde. So much to gain and yet not enough time to live and do it all, to escape what's old, in the search of something new, never lived before, our time is now and I will die trying before I leave this world. I'm covered in loyalty, the day's we are apart trigger's me, trigger's me to do the most wildest things, together we aim high, forever in my heart you will be. Riders through thick and thin.
Together it's like a trigger that had to be pulled, together you and I rule this world..
The pain punish me, life worries me, a lot of bad gets the best of me, I wouldn't have it no other way but for you to ride with me. when the smoke clears, it will only be you and me. Riders through thick and thin. Bonnie and Clyde until the end.
She has never seen such a wildness
She laughs so loudly that people are looking
She had never laughed this loudly before
Her relatives began shushing her
But she is eighty-six years young
And this silliness tickled her funny bone
She cannot stop laughing at the craziness
Her husband is dead, so he can no longer silence her
She settles down after awhile but the feeling is still there
The joyful, happy feeling she has not had for a long time
She is not a hundred percent understanding the feeling
Words do not come as easily now with the Alzheimers
She stares into the abyss of the moment
Not speaking at all but there is a tinge of hope now
A tiny sliver of optimism that maybe she is not in a coma
Her relatives begin to kiss her
They are making their way out of her life
As she has made her way out of theirs
Not on purpose but due to aging
And a disease that is holding her hostage right now
She stares into the mist watching the angels dance
They are doing acrobatics.
One sticks out his tongue.
She begins to laugh, more loudly and exuberantly.
What craziness will grandma add this Christmas? The relatives asked.
She’d be outrageous and creative. Keeping it going was quite a task.
She would be up to it, she’s had plenty of practice in ninety-two years.
Excited to see what she would cook up for her little grand-dears.
Grandma met us at the door and said, “Try to guess what is new”.
It was pretty easy to see, as a giant grinch stood in her foyer blue.
He was motion activated, and spun his head around and said
“Merry Christmas you little Darlings!” Some of them ran out full stead.
Come back! Grandma hollered. You have not seen my Santa yet.
He was a giant blow up boy, sixty feet tall in back of her hamlet.
We oohed and laughed and sang and had the best of times.
Truly the best grandma of all; and she gave us each a roll of dimes.
We had the best cookies; they were decorated with unusual things.
Are they safe to eat? New relative asked. I think his name is Jing’s.
Did not know and did not care, there was such joy at Grandma Jean’s.
When we left I am sure she began plotting for next year’s major theme.
It is madness how I write my poetry,
Around me mountains of paper collect;
By candlelight I write with pure insanity,
Until I hang on a cliff of a poem perfect.
It is desperation that I seek the last line,
Oh, mighty peak of sweet writing bliss;
The ecstasy and passion like a red wine,
My pen drips but I am lost in an abyss.
It is craziness how I write in a frenzy,
Around me piles of books are tumbling;
By dawns glow I pen in mad lunacy,
Until I stand on a crag- words drifting,
It is mania how I write my poetry,
Oh, euphoria when my muse is on fire;
All day I ponder my words carefully,
And all so my poem you will admire.
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May 16, 2016
Poetry/Rhyme/Hanging On A High Cliff
Copyright Protected, ID 16-7911-63-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.