Long Go crazy Poems
Long Go crazy Poems. Below are the most popular long Go crazy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Go crazy poems by poem length and keyword.
“The Purple Reign”
by: Eric L. Boddie
“I Want to Be Your Lover” is so “Insatiable” to some
But I “Adore” you because the “Holy River” is where I’m from
And “I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man,” that’s “Scandalous” to think
But I answered “The Question of U” is “Strange but True,” so don’t blink
Maybe it’s this “Erotic City,” or, perhaps, it’s because she looks so good in that “Raspberry Beret”
But I want to be “Somebody’s Somebody,” but she must be the “Marrying Kind” I say
So “Lady Cab Driver” in the “Little Red Corvette”
“Let’s Pretend We’re Married” with some “Dance, Music, Sex, Romance,” and I expect
To be the “International Lover” for every “Irresistible *****”
Because I Love every woman from “The Most Beautiful Girl in the World” to “Billy Jack *****”
Let me leave you “Satisfied” in puddles of “Black Sweat”
But I “No” all that I want so “Damn U” before I forget
That “Nothing Compares 2 U” plus I Love when you “Call My Name”
“U Got That Look” that lures all the “Girls and Boys” just the same
This “Cinnamon Girl” named “Anna Stesia” is the only one I want to call baby
Even if it took “A Million Days,” I would tell her “Let’s Go Crazy”
Maybe I got one of those “Colonized Minds” that will never let me say “Eye Hate U”
But “One of Us” must understand that “The Love We Make” is true
So if I gave you “Diamonds and Pearls” or took you “Around the World in a Day”
Would you “Do Me Baby” or let “Bob George” get in the way
Even back in “1999,” I was somewhat addicted to the “Pop Life”
Because of a “Condition of the Heart” that made me want a “Friend, Lover, Sister, Mother, Wife”
But there is “Joy in Repetition” every time we try a “New Position”
And “Baby I’m a Star” so my “Darling Nikki,” you should know my intentions
But the “Rainbow Children” provide the best “Sign ‘O’ the Times”
I want you “Forever in My Life” because we like to “Play in the Sunshine”
Because “When 2 R in Love,” there must be a sincere sense of “Trust”
And when it’s not so “So Dark,” it looks like “Purple Rain” to us
And that’s “When Doves Cry,” in light of our “Private Joy”
Without “Controversy,” it’s the “Love Sign” I employ
So “Gett Off” of that hate train, and let “Positivity” spark
And if you’re “Willing and Able,” that’s what is done at “Paisley Park”
RIP Brother Prince Rogers Nelson…..God Wants you In His Choir…..
Arthur was 16 when he entered the system
i could never ask him why
he was too old when i met him
he was on soo many pills
and not very pleasant to talk to
he heard voices
he would sometimes get up and punch someone
but who knows if they deserved it
or not
after being in a mental institute
from the age of 16 until the day you die
wouldn't you go crazy
the first real guinea pig
i met him
i never cried for him and his pain
but he always wanted to check my shave,
perhaps a victim from some sick war crime
I'll never know
Graham is not from our country
and I've written amnesty international concerning his welfare
they say its not any of their concern
as he wears shackles and chains on a daily basis
and goes to the bathroom in a diaper and eats cold food like sandwiches
because he hits people
mainly his doctor who lies to him
in my opinion
just like the doctor lied to my dad about me trying to bite him,
but i have no proof
just lucky I'm not in chains
going to the bathroom in a diaper
I know he committed a crime but two years locked in one room
alone with a window curtain opening and closing to spy on you
is enough psychological insanity to inspire mania if you ask me
Andrew was a crack head
and held up some convenience stores for some money
so he could get drugs
now hes been in the funny farm for like twelve years
still trying to get a hold of his next hit
watching his youth disappear
watching his life fade away
jumping through the hoops of a system that holds your freedom above you
that may or may not ever grant it
Andrew ran away
gave it all he got
saw people chained to the wall
people dieing there from the age of 16 for ridiculous crud
and knew they were toying with him
so he ran away
now he on a unit where god only knows
what mind hell they're putting him through
what rainbows hes swallowing down
Shelley was the meanest woman i had ever met
but it was always worth seeing her smile
don't know haven't figured out if the drugs really helped her
but she was in that place since she was seventeen
and died in a group home from some sickness
they claim wasn't related to her meds
I'm no fool, the stuff they pump us full of is deadly and toxic
i never made it to Shelly's funeral to see her murderers
there crying fake tears
for someone they would never really miss
Dedicated to all Soup poets and muse - please continue to help and thank you.
I didn’t know how to write poetry as I was new,
only 6 months in the poetry game so no shame,
many a day after writing I was feeling blue,
I thought I was stupid and everybody was to blame.
Met amazing people here and their care is free,
apparently it’s a rhyming thing or not,
it was driving me up the bloody tree,
thanks to all the positive input I got.
I now know more or less what is required,
I tried “Monoku” oh my, what a mess I made,
struggling to write at work almost got fired,
I was so embarrassed, under my desk I laid.
I tried to write a “Haiku”, I cant even say the word,
but nevertheless I tried, what a load of pooh,
valuable comments but almost meant how absurd,
I know why poets go crazy, and what they go through
I tried to write a “Kimo”, hey whatever,
what the hell is that supposed to mean,
but stuck to my guns and did endeavour,
produced what I thought was clever and clean.
I tried to write a “Verse”, was told to call it that,
submitted to contest, no comments, but N/A, again,
like I was talking to a stranger and saying sorry you just spat,
re-looked at my poems, I’m too stupid to give up and I’m vain.
I tried to write a “Sonnet” about my new sweetheart,
apparently it has only fourteen lines and limited syllables,
took so long she almost left me with a new broken heart,
no fuel in my car, and all the McDonald bills.
I tried to write a “limerick” an apparent popular form,
this is supposed to be funny have rhythm and rhyme,
previously for me anything that rhymed was the norm,
for that my English teacher should be smacked for his crime.
Finally I realised that its not just poetry but expressing life,
all you appreciate, love, you find funny and even hate,
your inner feelings, emotions, caring and your strife,
the special people on this site that help and patiently rate.
Now I do endure to write, and appreciate all and thank all,
for their positive input and renaming my form appropriately,
If my poem does not make it in any way or at all,
I don’t care because I am learning and will continue patiently.
Yes I do know the form is supposed to be "Rhyme" not "I do not know" - that is one of the intentions of the poem
Form:
Welcome! Please come in
Take a seat and let the fun begin.
We make them in any shape, color and size
Please, come this way for the grand surprise.
In these chambers we produce the best in the land
We have supersized muscles for their arms and hands
The absolute power person is born in this place
We have taken the old and simply erased.
With modern science we can do just about anything
We produce babies who sing and even flying ones with wings
Just supply us with some DNA to make your purchase your own
We even match up your biological skin tone.
Your child will be complete in a week or two
It depends on what else you want us to do.
Some people want the specialties… enlisted for the best
Some want to keep it simple, just like the rest
But I am currently working on the fiercest baby of all
He won’t cry, wine or fret he will skip the stage of crawl
A child with no emotions trained for war
It’s an experiment if you will
But then again aren’t they all?
This child will be brewed for combat, one of our finest machines
If he gets shot… he won’t even scream
He will go in to battle fearless and legit
He won’t feel if he is cut, broken or hit
He will keep on fighting until the very death
He will be the last man standing when there is no one else left
As time goes on he will be able to delete memory
So nothing in battle will keep him in captivity
His upper thighs will have a switch
That turns on his camera eyes
This will be used to capture the spies
And his bones will be stronger then steal
If his skin gets punctured it will automatically heal
No need for a Dr. Nurse or homecare
The best part is he will be transported to here and there
Where ever he is needed at the moment in war time
He will be teleported to especially to escape a crime
Think of the wonders that this man will be able to do
This will be every general dream come true.
But it is crucial that we monitor the first of his breed
After all this is science and at times it can mislead.
I will adopt him first and see how it goes
I will train him from birth until he grows
And maybe in 20 years from now you will want a child like him
The critics will go crazy calling him a sin
Ahhhh, but all is fair in love and war
And this my friends is what my child will be made for.
By: sabina
Poetry is somewhat unique in that your mind blends an object, person or thing. You become one and then you create an image through your words, each poet is different otherwise all poems would be the same. It is impossible to copy another poet and their thought’s, as an example. When I write about trees I feel them swaying in the wind or birds landing on their branches, I feel the many rings around them teaching us their age, I feel their leaves falling in the fall even those leaves that eventual go back into the earth.
Poetry is an expression of you life and the things you have seen and experienced so no one can copy those thought’s and feelings, yes poems can be counterfeited and maybe change a few words around but those thought’s and feelings will always belong to you. To many try to have the perfect poem they work and work to make it perfect and it maybe be perfect in their eyes but to others they don’t always see what you see. When I write poetry I just write and a lot of times my words get mixed up even today, I wrote a poem with the word seen in it thanks to one of my poet peeps she caught it and soup mailed me it was suppose to be spelled scene and not seen.
I don’t check my work that carefully I just write and then post it, why you may ask I write for me and not others, I write from my heart and I never think in my mind I hope people like this. It gives me freedom in writing and my muse can go crazy, when you write poetry to please other people you are not writing poetry you are just putting down random thought’s thinking, I hope people like this. If you like it that’s all that matters that my friend’s is, freedom in poetry. At lot of the Judges in contest look for perfection in your poetry, they may as well put my muse on trial for he or she is a sneaky little burger and doesn’t like playing by man’s rules.
The last contest That I sponsored was Acrostic and trust me I do know what an Acrostic poem should look like, I read one poem that had such beauty it should have been 1st place but because it wasn’t Acrostic I had to follow the rules and give it an N/A. I do understand about some of the rules in contest but, when someone has such a talent is given a N/A because it wasn’t the correct form gets to me.
Poetry is not perfection it is inspiration
When I die
please call the cops
don't lie
then put my body on some hot rocks.
play 2Pac
over my block
to honor me
then spread my ashes across the Black Sea.
My life of sin
will be over
when the train pulls in
life will be on my shoulder.
I'm in the zone
all alone.
When I'm gone
will it turn you on?
will it make you happy?
will it make you sad?
will it make you go crazy?
and will it make you mad?
When I die
don't tell my dad
he's a father that I never had,
just another face in my broken past.
The good memories
never seem to last.
Let life go on
for my son
may he never touch a gun.
I'll fly like a lightning rod
to the house of god.
This life is getting stranger
everywhere I go
I'm always in danger.
Let my soul linger on
let em' drop the bomb
let em' sing this song
learn right from wrong
smoke out of my bong
let the band play on.
When I die
will you cry?
will you try
to lie
about the way I died?
Will you honor my pride?
Illuminati confirmed
I will lay where my homies burned.
Everything I've seen
everything I've learned.
You've turned.
I hope I still grow
after I go.
I hope my rhymes will heard
all my words
by the birds
far away
okay.
I hope I don't go like Marvin Gaye
but, it's better to burn out
than to fade away.
When I die
will you cry?
Will you try
to lie
about the way I died?
Will you honor my pride?
Now, I know
I said and did a lot of things.
That I hurt you.
That's what really stings
because I know how much you tried
to help me through.
Play those strings.
All my love
all the hard times
all these rhymes
and those crimes.
Your my dove
my first true love.
You will always be in my heart
I made the teardrops start.
All my art
walking after dark
my fiction is stark.
When I die
will you cry?
Will you try
to lie
about the way I died?
Will you honor my pride?
Don't reject
my respect
for the dead
or I'll pump your guts full of lead.
You will see a lot of red.
I'm a thug
when I'm holdin' a slug.
If I catch wind
of you harming my friend
it will be your end.
Enough said.
When I die
will you cry?
Will you try
to lie
about the way I died?
Will you honor my pride?
I pick my pen up to express myself with hopes that my words will inspire
I bleed on the pad to show how much poetry means to me
I try to write the words so well that you can imagine the scenery
I'm not the greatest poet ever but I still have some ambitions as a writer
Most nights I end up with ink stains on my hand from writing so much
Writing down the emotions that people tell me I don't show enough
I write about my real life, but sometimes I just go crazy and attack the pad like a raging bull
But whatever I'm writing about, I always write until the page is full
I don't do it for this, but I've had one or two girls fall in love with my words and call me charming
Poetry got me to put the blade down, so I try and tell other people there are better coping mechanisms than self-harming
I've got love poems to tell these girls they deserve better than getting cheated on
Use my words as a bandage to cover up where you're bleeding from
I try and inspire others the way Eminem, Nas, Tupac and Kid Cudi inspired me
I apologise because sometimes I may get too personal and write like it's my diary
I've always wanted to be as good as Eminem, So my new work will only be compared to my old work
Because when he releases a new album people think "Yeah this is good" but they'll say it's awful because it's not as good as an old verse
There's a whole world out there, so I try and write without limitations
I was Bullied and ridiculed, so I try and give strength to those fighting discrimination
I'm never fully happy with my work, I always think I can make a verse better
Sometimes I just want to rhyme, have fun and throw random words together
I've came to realise some of the best poems are when you don't over think it
I don't have a filter, so if it crosses my mind I will ink it
Some have an issue with that and get scared by someone being so truthful
But the truth is, Poetry isn't always meant to be beautiful
When I was at my lowest, Poetry helped to lift me higher
I bleed on the pad to show how much poetry means to me
Writing with Eminem is the biggest dream for me
These are just my ambitions as a writer
It's sad when the only light in your life is one that is held under an object. It stirs and creates a demon that can't wait to get into your veins,
and one day without it makes you go crazy like you gone insane.
So you do anything to get you a dollar to get you a bag,
then you race home to fill a needle with shaking hands.
Then relief. But relief from what?
All of your family and friends and all the objects you own in your life.
You'll do anything for it you no longer care what is right.
You no longer care you don't own a door with a lock,
and you no longer care the roof over your head is just a cardboard box.
You wear long sleeves to conceal your truth,
your ashamed that's why you hide the abuse.
You even once sucked up water from a toilet just to get high,
yet you still ain't realized your tired of living a lie.
Just look at the sores on your arm, do you know that they call it a track? Just what would it take to finally get your life back?
And if life don't mean anything to you, everyone else you can please,
by putting this gun to your head and letting the bullet release.
That's when it hit me, something just clicked in my head,
just as I was filling a rig so my demon could get fed.
I am tired this isn't the life for me,
and I finally opened my eyes so now I can see.
If I change now just look at the message it would send.
I might even gain some respect back from my family and friends.
I'm no longer ashamed, so I won't hide the abuse.
So this is goodbye to long sleeves that use to conceal the truth.
Goodbye to being tired of how I'm living my life,
goodbye to the nodding and sickly feeling at first light.
Goodbye to all the sores that use to cover my arm,
goodbye to the rigs that did me nothing but harm.
You see, my life does have meaning regardless of what everyone else said.
That's why I'm saying goodbye to this gun I once held to my head.
Change has to start now, and that I can now see.
And it's all thanks to this goodbye letter that I am finally free.
1. You walk around all day trying to think of unusual words that rhyme and new things to say.
2. You spend too much time online or in bookstores looking for poetry and other books that make you feel or think that you, too might become a famous, published poet.
3. You believe and tell your family, friends, and anyone else who will listen that you’re the reincarnated body, mind and soul of Walt Whitman or Emily Dickinson.
4. Your family and friends think you’re a little bit nutty for occasionally stopping mid-sentence or in the middle of a meal to excuse yourself to write something down quickly in your “Think Pad” lest you lose the thought forever and cry yourself to tears trying to remember it later on.
5. You go crazy in the bathroom when that one “great idea” lands in your head but you’re unable to write it down because you’re glued to the toilet seat.
6. You become jealous of other poets who obviously “stole” your great idea out of thin air – while you were still composing it on that cushy toilet seat.
7. You stay awake too late at night torturing yourself over the tough decision to write another poem or to read and comment on someone else’s poem (here in Poetry Soup).
8. You wake up every morning wishing you could write another poem but face the sad reality that life sucks and you have to go to work instead.
9. You have to live with the fact that for all intensive purposes, you live alone inside yourself with all your poetic thoughts and feelings. Few if any close members of your family, friends or associates don’t have a clue that you’re thinking and writing about things far more important than your next meal or what’s coming on TV.
10. You’re proud of who you are and what you do and have a deep sense of satisfaction and appreciation for the complexities of life despite what others may or may not think about you. You know you’re part of a bigger plan and an integral and small yet important piece of the wider universe and that no matter who reads or doesn’t read your poetry, at the end of the day it’s been worth it. And so are you and all you do.
I'm going crazy
At 17 I am in love with this girl
But some thoughts in my head making my mind in a whirl
Making me wanna sit in a curl
I don't know what to do when words like
Forever and ever and ever and ever
Are words being said
By you
And playing over and over in my head
I'm going crazy
Tryin not to let these words faze me
But when you say you'd die if we broke up
I don't know if I should lie
Or make up
Or break up
I just wanna run
Thoughts making me wanna lift a gun
I'm going crazy
These thoughts might just faze me
I bought you two rings that you asked for
Straight diamonds out the door
When these words came out your mouth I almost fell to the floor
Beause words like promise rings and wedding rings
And my crazy feelings
Are making me crazy
I don't know whether to run
Or hide with these feelings
These thoughts
These over emotional bleedings
Are killing me
Because girl your making me crazy
Because I miss being single it's
Less emotional
And I don't know
If I could hang with other girls anymore
Or
Do anything anymore
Cause
Forever is how long you'll be here for
So which is it
Walk out the door
Or
Keep doing what I've been doing every day before
Because I can't keep going crazy
It's just for the sake of me
And honestly I'm sorry
It's making me worry
And the words your saying are realy amazing me
But my mind is in a flurry making me worry and my mind is crazy I'm in a hurry
I
Don't know what i'd do without you but you got me questioning me
And
Who I wanna be
And secretly
I got these thoughts going through my head
Making me go crazy
I'm now letting myself be lazy
And letting myself be mean
But
Intentionally
Because honestly
I'm not quite happy
With me
Not you
It's not you that's worrying me
But it's me that's worrying me
But I don't know what id do without you so maybe it's more of a questioning of who or how'll
I'll Blame you
Cause it's going to come true
It's just a matter of who will break up with who
I just hope it's not me
Breaking up with you
Form: