Long Deranged Poems
Long Deranged Poems. Below are the most popular long Deranged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deranged poems by poem length and keyword.
My new forest and park neighbors,
mostly birds
squirrels
and strangely curious
and ravenous rabbits,
Have become accustomed to,
spoiled by,
fragrant green sanctuary
ancient fertile memories.
But, today
our neighborly horse farm
must be cleaning house.
This smells of too rich compost
upstaging even more gracious green.
This downgrade
calls to me
recalling former toxic smells,
fossil fuel exhausting,
were sooo... much more degenerative.
Horsey compost
lies between love's light life fragrance
and dark skinned death
of odorous Earth.
Yet, comparing distances
between green forest
and horse fragrance
and transported stinky fractures
through sacred climates ecological
resonant and resilient airs
and gusts
and breezes,
Comparative distances
continuously,
yet consecutively, change
what one might argue
is a contrasting wealth of difference,
+1, to -1, with midway
horse-powered zero neutral
Feels more like two-thirds healthy fragrance
and only one third toxic
Feels closer to three-fourths salient
to one-fourth punitive memory
from here
and now perspective,
Feels closer to seven-eighths
to one-eighth formerly deranged
of a revolutionary
resonantly regenerative
fractalling
resiliently redundant
multicultural sensory/spiritual
nurturing
re-communicating natural octave
of Golden Ratio/Rule comparison,
At last
resiliently resonant.
A dream is either a kaleidoscope glance of the past
Or a haphazard vision of tomorrow,
Its speed varies; it is occasionally slow or fast.
If you cannot dream, you are essentially dead,
There is no viable hope, only sore sorrow.
Nothing is normal and everything is sad.
Dream every night, young men and women,
So you can change the world for the better,
So you can find solutions for people, who are bitter,
Sick and deranged, and for the dying foemen.
Dream and don’t fall asleep while walking.
There is a time for everything,
A time to dream,
Or to stare at the moon;
A time to sing,
To get away, and to enjoy a spoon
Of ice cream.
Hebert Logerie Friday, March 14, 2014
have to screw it down
tightly lately
being often lighter than air
it tends to float
it gets stuck somewhere
maybe in tree limbs
or under a parked car on a rainy day
then again it often feels
like a 100 pounds of suet
a drag to carry around
so daily i screw it if its floats
or lift it up on a hoist
to drain off all the kind of bull crap
any soul can pick up
when it rolls around in the mud
like a flop-eared hound dog
i tell it that it is most certainly real
however
unfortunately
i am not
being only a deranged
figment of its imagination
and that i am sorry
about all the
screwing
lifting
draining and dragging
then it rests for a while
with a smile on my face
Why oh why have we become so woke
To the point of companies going near broke,
All for the sake of garnering support
From vocal fringes, then quietly rushing to abort.
Is the effort worth the prize
Pandering to an audience that must surely realize
Division is not the path to integration
Empowering voices that just believe in denigration.
Acceptance is rarely mandated or imposed,
It's a result of customs willingly transposed
To reflect a kinder more inclusive world
And in the process eliminating the absurd.
Activism can often be the kernel for steep
Change,
But in the wrong hands is alienating and deranged,
With effects that counter all that would be good
Demeaning the very essence for which they stood.
We the silent throngs just watch and wonder,
What's brought on this wave of mindless thunder,
Strife and upheaval causing nothing but confusion,
Resulting in a world of societal delusion.
Democracy is not another word for anarchy,
Where a vocal few usurp reality for fantasy,
But one of tolerance and communal understanding
To mold a world where actions are outstanding.
Where parent is not set against their child,
Or leaving differing opinions unreconciled,
Where sexuality does not become a sword,
Or Race the blade to cut across the board.
When will politicians and the media say enough,
Accepting that their narrative is huff and gruff,
Full of potholes and dead ends
Turning people into enemies not friends?
Why not allow good sense and wisdom take the stage,
Willing denigrators to turn another page,
Supporting causes that are simply just
Thereby forging a society sure to last.
In a corner I kneel
Naked as birth
Worthless I feel
To others I appear worth
I worked in a bar
A customer I've just met
He's promised this and that
My future I think set
A new life he'd find
Better prospects I'd face
To this customer I've just met
I reach out to embrace
We meet in the morning
At a disclosed quiet place
My journey for a new life
With a smile on my face
Into my unknown
Down dirt roads and farm tracks
After travelling for hours
I start to relax
At a farmhouse we stop
Outside parked are fancy cars
In the middle of nowhere
My mind thinks so bizarre
Entering we go
This cold and eerie place
Strangers they all are
To a wall I'm told to face
Orders are given
To please turn around
Strip naked to bare
Quiet, not a sound
A door opens
In walk smartly dressed men
They appear haggling, bartering
Again and again
To me they approach
Pointing, stern faced
Naked to these men
In this now nowhere place
I am led away
Injection I am given
Into involuntary slumber
In deranged driven
I awaken hours later
To the sound of city life
In a seedy room somewhere
My heart races rife
Weeks and months pass
Many men to forget
Soiled and degraded
Instructed, by the man in the bar I'd met
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/dark-5.php
The sky is cloudless, coral after rain
A mad outburst as sudden as a rage
The sun is trembling as it slowly fades
Our people too are troubled and in pain
Where ever shall we find a trusted sage?
The sky is cloudless coral after rain
Each side holds the other in disdain
No conversation. nobody’s engaged
The sun is trembling as it slowly fades
The suicidal kingdom’s past remains.
The Empire a delusion of the age
The sky is cloudless, coral, after rain
The erudite have no words to explain
What produced the elemental change
The sun is shaking as it slowly fade
Fearing loss we gather on the stage
There is no doubt the leaders are deranged
The sky is cloudless, coral after rain
The sun is watching as we slowly fade
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
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
Within the humanity and inhabitants of Earth
there is an great diversity of human kind . . .
I have met people full of urbanity with polished manners
formally is their official status-
there are many who use their morality and ethics
knowing the difference between good and evil, right and wrong
to help others, they seem able to grasp the reality of any situation
lots of people have great ideas and mentally think good thoughts
that energy and vitality is like a seed that grows
But I have met people unbalanced, deranged and suffering
from insanity it seems, using vulgar words and profanity
there are full of volcanity ready to erupt like a volcano . . .
Have you ever met someone mindless, inanity is their name
they just lack ideas and their everyday life is mundanity
Oh then are those full of fatality, doom and gloom . . .
But the worse people that I avoid are those who
are violent, savage, full of brutality toward all mankind.
_________________________
January 24, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/People I Have Met
Copyright Protected, ID 17-868-611-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
The sordid thought thicket thrives
within the dungeon of the dark mind,
where the web of tormenting roots wriggles,
entangles all the escape routes,
as qualm deconstructs life’s forest path.
Unsure frail footsteps falter,
deranged wobbly tread dithers,
the root trap and the abyss wait
for the traveller, worn out of walking long,
going jaded to nowhere in the jungle of life.
The survival struggle starts as shovel of resolve
upturns the security soil, fells the trees,
removes the mesh and the darkness,
the crafted pasture of freedom then
looks up to the sky above the dismal canopy.
Destiny isn’t a pretext, the walk is one’s own walk
through the murky maze of the forlorn forest,
where the insightful impulse carves out
a pasture transforming into the garden of bliss,
the inner vision configures in the clearing.
_____________
February 17, 2023
Contest : The Clearing
Sponsored by : Craig Cornish
For Brian Strand Premier No. 1194