Long Hyperactive Poems
Long Hyperactive Poems. Below are the most popular long Hyperactive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hyperactive poems by poem length and keyword.
Do they see me when I am not able to multiply
When I have days when I want to cry
Do they see how I comprehend I make mistakes
Picking answers overrate
Clearly has something to do with my brain
I know who I am I know my name
I go through the day slipping through the crack
Do they really have my back
Are they that concerned
Yes my mom has stress factors on how I learn
She is doing everything for me
Cooks clean and also teach
I try not to act like it does not bother me I do not like seeing her sad
Frustrated or even mad
She does all she knows how to do
What makes me happy is when she says I love you
She shows me everyday
I look at my hyperactive brother how she teaches him how to behave
He sometimes is a handful
But I know my mom she prays and are given the tools
To help us what we do not get in school
That is cool
Comforting in fact
Yes I know that my mom have our back!
Many politicians vociferously lie
Many politicians either hide or omit the truth
Many times, I sit down quietly in a booth
Enjoying a glass of chocolate mousse
And drinking orange juice
Serenely to listen and analyze many lawmakers’ words
I laugh like crazy, because they invent many worlds
And mess up like hyperactive toddlers
I bet that many of my readers
Know exactly what I am talking about
Watch their lips and their eyes
And these magicians are full of tricks and lies
Believe me, I never like the notes that they put out
Oh! Yeah, they enjoy displaying their skills on the canvas
Yes, they often raise many doubts in my consciousness
Frankly, I barely believe in less than ten
Percent of what these quintessential whistle-stoppers say
Most of them rely, behind the scene, in pay- to- play
Which is absolutely illegal and verboten
You probably know a few con artists that are
Like that, especially the one who’s not afraid to start a war
Over nonsense or to retaliate, because they have the means
The poor soldiers that they abuse and the deadly guns
That show no mercy
To Humanity
Let me know if you have or have had a similar experience
Where countless officeholders or politicians
Can neither see their shadows nor themselves in the mirror
These days, it is hard to find a good and honest leader
Facts always matter
And lies cause pain, death and despair.
Copyright © March 2022, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Without partisan doubt
the opposite of bliss
could be hate,
for bliss blinds dyspeptic,
double-binds synaptic
and fast-fades ephemeral,
as if it too soon
had never been.
Hate broods and breeds
festers and feeds
on past angry memories
fading forward future fears
of empty echoing
hot flowing paranoia
feasting on should have beens,
could have becomes,
if not for ruinous mortality.
In life's end,
defeat,
in our beginning,
terror of relentless trauma.
Fearing the opposite of my bliss
could be your rage,
blindingly synaptic,
fading back to slow-burning distrust
of animal life's long-suffering challenges,
anthro on anthro.
I don't recall rage
against the weather,
or mosquitoes,
or even swarming bees.
Rage,
contrasted to more generic angry fear-filled panic,
overpowers Earth's most triumphal terrors
then fades back
as if it had never been
any more than hyperactive mistrust,
bad faith
unsafely harbored in swarming seas of dissonant stress.
Blissful rave through hateful rage,
Earth's vast embodied stage
for feelings flowing like light and fading dark clouds
before sun and star light's constant witness,
waiting for Earth's multiculturing humane tribes
to learn full-octaved harmonics
like preverbal infants
learning which operatic brights
bring bliss,
which bring rage,
and what will outrageously radical raves feel like
to timelessly sustain,
living full-stretched crown and root
systemic MotherTree resonance.
America has been GREAT, great for the last two centuries.
All right, America has been the greatest among all countries,
For a long time. MAGA is a cheap pleonasm, which just
Won the most contentious election in American history.
The problem, as widely reported, Trump is corrupt, unjust,
Sexist, racist, homophobic, xenophobic, vociferous, and nasty.
This is the first time that we have such a hyperactive loose cannon,
Who is despised by his own political party. He is an orchestra
Of unusual lyrics and melodies. The man is like an untamed lion.
As a reminder, money, strength and power are not everything.
Humility, wisdom, decency, and common sense, in America,
Are extremely crucial and important, to make the dogs sing.
A president should be a role model, a beacon for children;
A fighter, a problem solver, a savior for the entire electorate;
A leader, a giant not a bully, a diplomat for the world to emulate.
The jury will be deliberating; America does not need to be 'great again';
We need an improved economy, mutual respect, controlling the flow
Of immigration, money, illicit drugs, and put our ducks in a row,
To be a haven for all, regardless of race, color, gender and ethnicity.
America is the greatest, I am not lying; simply ask the Statue of Liberty.
Copyright © November 11,2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Elbows must be packed more carefully.
I catch the eye of a flight attendant.
Some preliminary questions…
"Miss can I be slipped into a less edgy wedge?
She frowns, resenting perhaps my ‘miss’
should have said ‘mam’…damn.
I carry on babbling –
“Could my mind be more swiftly amputated?
Is it possible to be shuffled laterally
until I intrude less and match more?”
Now she is throwing daggers of hate towards me.
Are the engines honking like killer geese?
Will dinner come as an intravenous drip?
Is that kid vomiting back there?
Her dislike of my questions
is as palpable as a cudgel to the head.
“Miss I can’t see; my eyes are too near the seatback.
Will you stamp my papers D.O.A. now
to save time?"
My voice through the triple layered mask
sounds like a hyperactive zombie.
She smiles robotically.
"Sir, will you please stop blinking,
you're making the other cargo nervous."
FRIVOLITY
pleasure
of people-watching
witnessing
ruses
subtle
or blunt
the prospect
of spectacle
so
diverting d
&
amusing
scrutiny
at a glance
ostensibly
a
light-hearted
ticklea
an
unsuspecting
cascade
of
the
bright
&
hyperactive
bubble
of
the
simultaneous
prompted
by
pretensions
in
a decorated
gleaming view
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
All the others row the boat slow while I crank up the motor....
Here we go let's start the show, I'm the show boater.
The entrance of the eminent,
with ability that's evident.
Poo fills your pants
as you now know you haven't a chance.
I've had it with those who flow with a transparent talent,
the thumpy clumpy rhyme and rhythm of an elephant,
regardless of their age they should think about retirement,
as a skill that's transparent is a skill that they haven't.
I'm the standard setter and I lack compassion,
my skills unmeasured and better than the competition.
Your rhymes are rotten,
that's why they're forgotten,
you're not the dogs bollocks
you're just the dogs bottom.
I rhyme with a rhythm representing Great Britain,
you rhyme like you've been bitten and are disease ridden.
My hyperactive mind will leave you behind,
I am not being unkind but simple minds,
can't even begin to find the words to bind,
people like you often tend to stumble blind
over the simple single syllable rhyme.
I started writing and I'm unstoppable, it's easy it's natural,
you're a hangover fart that lingers like a holocaust chemical.
I am the only poetic superhuman that's causing confusion,
it's amusing how you need the supervision to point out you're losin'.
You need to train your face to look HUMBLE when defeated,
if you feed what it needs your brain won't crumble depleated.
I'm on a mission to book first place, so when I'm awarded,
I must be applauded, stand and clap don't remain seated.
You need to accept it and expect it,
or quit while you have time to forefeit.
You will blunder under the sound of my THUNDER that goes round,
but if it's misheard,
I've got a box of frost to start biting,
but if that's squandered
and you carry on like a fighter,
I'll strike you with lightning,
one way or another you will not win top writer.
Respect the perspective that my rhyme is perfected,
and to conclude your rhymes are rejected.
Not to be rude but your seat's to be ejected,
it's not that you're bad it's that I am majestic.
I Saw an Angelic hurtful,
O’ God I Saw
An Angelic humble host
An Angelic human, helpful host
Hopeful, heavenly holy host,
Praising…
O’ Michael I Saw
An Angelic horrible, heavy host
Kicked down from heaven fell to earth
Beautiful he was Satan-Lucifer
This handsome horrid, hyper host
This hateful Angelic high minded host
I Saw an Angelic hilarious, hyperactive host fall from grace
Landing on this world of hate
Yes, he was kick out of grace, landing fast and hard on his face
I Saw an Angelic hungry, hot host
I Saw the Angelic angel with the lost
7/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
He’s what we call a trouble
And often not just one but double!
A hyperactive kid with label,
That reads he’s restless and unstable.
Be patient, give him needed space,
Though fast, he doesn’t win the race.
Shrewd and brave, a daredevil,
With low concentration level.
His frazzled mind needs to express
But often ordered to suppress.
Those random words he has to say
Will choose improper time and way.
Show your love and understanding,
What he does wrong is rather random.
It’s not you but him, who’s bothered,
Being brushed away by others.
Don’t get angry in frustration,
Offer extra stimulation,
Let brilliant fast spinning mind
Have territory to unwind.
You will achieve the best result-
Praise, compromise but don’t insult.
If reprimand - in decent terms,
Wondering eyes calm after storm.
Give him another chance to win,
Wish to be 1st – his biggest sin.
Your great reward – his happy smile
Stays in your heart, it is worth trying.
What doctors promised, all came true
Efforts paid off, your son outgrew.
Not long ago his worn-out label
Turned into well-behaved, and stable.
If I was your Squirrel
I'd employ my unique style
To bring you joy and entertainment
And find ways to make you smile.
I would skip around you playfully
Just to make you giggle
Which would trigger my transformation
With a hyperactive wiggle.
As with many amongst Squirrel kind,
You'll see my hair is red.
And just like my tail
I've a frizzy, bushy head.
I'd offer friendly company
And a listening ear.
Help to ease the bordem you might feel
Through insomnia.
I'd show you all the places
We Squirrels like to forage.
I'd tour you through the danger zones
Where we need our courage.
When shifting back to squirrelness
I may scurry back to my den.
But my Squirrel sense remains alert
To your need for me again.