Long Mad Poems
Long Mad Poems. Below are the most popular long Mad by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mad poems by poem length and keyword.
We are witnesses to the final act of a mad and incendiary project,
an experiment of a world bound by invisible and shining wires,
the reckless belief that we can always be connected, always alight,
that electric power, like a river of light, can flow unceasingly
for eight billion souls dreaming under the same dark sky.
I imagine how each cable vibrates like a nerve of the earth,
pulsing with promises of progress, but also with unseen shadows,
while cities open their neon eyes to the dark horizon,
and the stars, once sisters of desires, disappear under a veil of light.
We feel how night and day merge into a dance without pause,
how sleep becomes a relic from times when silence was a gift,
and our thoughts, like captive birds, fly in infinite circles,
seeking a place of rest in a world that no longer knows peace.
In the depths of this network, we dream of connections to soothe us,
but we forget the roots that bind us to the earth that nourishes us,
we forget that beneath the brightness of cities, the earth weeps iron tears,
and that the echo of these tears resonates in our hearts thirsty for quiet.
Now, at this crossroads, facing the mirror of time,
we see how the world wavers under the weight of our burning desires,
how each light bulb lit brings a deeper shadow into the soul,
and how the consequences burn like a fire that cannot be extinguished with bare hands.
Let us turn our gaze to the sky beyond the screens,
to rediscover the stars that listened to the stories of our ancestors,
to remember how to breathe in the dark without fear of the unknown,
to let silence surround us, like a balm for weary souls.
Thus, perhaps we will learn to truly live again,
to connect not just through wires, but through hearts beating in unison,
in a world where light and darkness share their place with wisdom,
and where the dream of being always alight is replaced by the desire to be alive.
The blind and the weary, are up from the trenches
To climb into chaos, they'll walk across tightropes
where no one has noticed the ebb and the sway
Now lost in the fury, they are mixed in the slurry
where mindless distraction has swallowed the day
They scatter their money on things that won't matter
Like hunters, they gather, checking their watches
Shattering silence with small satisfaction
No cause for reflection, and nothing to say
Searching for something. At what price the glory
While nothing of value, piles high to the rafters
Tumbling downward, into cobwebs and corners
Cracking the shell of a world that is hollow
leaving behind only yokes that are gray
______________________________________________________
For Contest Sponsored By Silent One "A Poem About A Song"
Based on the Song: "Mad World" 5/24/17
I see emptiness where there should be a soul
A man unscrupulous in ways most foul
I see a rat
A wild cat
Cornered at which he only sees one solution
He cares not for any peaceful conclusion
What has he got to lose, he’s lost his mind
Not one person on this planet could ever find
Within him a molecule of humanity
Only cruel revengeful insanity
A man who lives in a bubble, isolating his country
Tearing down civilization, bluntly
Stop him and stop him now
It does not matter how
Extinction of our planet is at stake
Really, a leader, no a monster, a mistake, a robotic fake
Seek him out
Leave him alone and without.
My friend sam is a crazy one
Deadlier than a loaded gun
An adrenaline junkie total wild
Never once will sam be mild
When were out im on edge
Coz sam is dull as a sledge
A man that catches sams eye
Will get a smack on the sly
Stealing cars racing for fun
Without a care for anyone
Drugs inhaled with every breath
Ready to die a crazy death
Never knowing sams next step
Dread to think of victims depths
A pretty girl crosses our path
Sam will grab her and laugh
Squeeze with wandering hands
Get a row off the doorman
No respect for any poor soul
Sam upsets humanity whole
Skip through life with no worries
As she never has her own money
What a bad experience in Guantanamo Bay
Being called Insane
Then guess what friends
It started again
I’m walking passed the bank
Stopped, lit my cigarette with my gun lighter and had a smoke
Decided I’d pop in to check my balance
Bank teller thought I was a gun waving crack on coke
You know the story
There’s this big police bloke
Had me face down on the floor
In a neck choke
He said “You must be Mad”
Waving a gun in a bank
Well you know it already
“ My name’s not Mad” I know it’s sad
I remembered the last pain
Been called Insane
So I thought I’d adopt
The old name again
Here I am in a first class hotel
With all padded rooms in a white jacket all snug
With belts on the sleeves
That teaches you how to hug.
I write to you with the pen between my teeth
I write my plea
Tell them my name’s not Mad
Read my other poems my names there you’ll see
It’s all bad, it’s horrible, we’re mad, and mean, and furious.
We’re tearing up people, throwing out “poor me’s” like crazy.
You think you have it bad? Listen to this. I am stunned.
Most are better at me than this. I decide to make up stuff.
Everyone is grousing, griping, tossing swears into the air.
I raise your swear, and double it! We are mad at everything.
The government our bosses, our husbands, our pets, our neighbors.
We begin giving them mean names. We are laughing so hard!
There is a knock. Grandad wants to know if we are okay in here.
We roll our eyes. But settle down two notches. Get silent.
A few minutes later Grandma breezes in carrying a tray.
She has warm pancakes, butter, syrup, large glasses of cold milk.
As we begin our breakfast she tells us six to eight hilarious stories.
About our moms, dads, aunts, uncles, even my dad. He lived on the corner.
We are laughing so hard, that the entire room changes gears.
We begin speaking in a positive, uplifting, happy optimistic way.
Grandma has had the talent to change a situation to good her whole life.
So were they mad? Grandpa asked when she came out of the room.
I don’t know, she admitted. I rarely see mad.
I don’t think she would recognize it if she did.
Just because we can
Do you really think we should
Does this meddling with nature
Really do the world any good
One eccentric particle
Escaped gravity’s grip
Flew the Hadron Collider
On a short lasting trip
Across the multiverse
On a zig-zag track
Clocks struck twenty eight
The calendars turned back
For just a brief instant
The world spun twice as fast
Causing a contradiction
That just couldn’t last.
But these exotic particles
Just don’t exist for long
And in the blink of an eyelid
It had vanished and gone.
The contradiction resolved
The clocks struck four
And the world’s revolution
Returned to normal once more.
In the Hadron Collider, unaware
A particle had briefly flown free
The supervisor and staff
Sipped their afternoon tea,
Creation’s full of mad molecules
We don’t know or understand
Should the Large Hadron Collider
Be shut down and banned.
Hildy Honey Badger was mad as unleavened beer hops
Alice her American Cousin said that she was tops
How dare you she said, and you are a carnivore too!
The bells I am said Alice. I’m an omnivore like you!
They decided not to speak any more that day on Zoom.
Hildy went around slapping everyone else in the room.
What did we do? They asked, astounded at her action.
I am angry with my cousin. Slapping gives me satisfaction!
Next Hildy got mad at Wilma Weasel, a distant Aunt.
So she slammed the fish out of their tank and kicked a plant.
The rest of the badgers ran out, giving her plenty of space.
By supper she had thrown up a hundred earth worms, a disgrace.
Is it safe to come back? Asked her neighbor, anteater Girdle.
I doubt it, the rest of them said and we are cooking a turtle.
They stayed out of the moorlands for a day and a night.
While Hildy Honey Badger destroyed every dhramned thing in sight.
What holds us together
has been torn, the unity
of a people split apart.
Both poles have lost
their grip and rupture
into division.
Categories now proliferate
and place each soul
into a labeled box governed
by the ideologue.
Word by word, language
has been commandeered by fear
and threatened with shame.
Good words are put on trial,
stripped of meaning and sentenced
to silence. They sleep in old books
sought out by the apparatchiks
for removal or to be replaced
by neutered covers.
Soon Macbeth will be lobotomized
to reduce the risk of upset.
The grand order has gone mad.
Long lines of citizenry queue
for entry into asylums
now spreading
like shopping malls.
Others won't leave home
and ossify in the safety
of their shuttered rooms.
Meanwhile, to the chants
of a sterilized song,
children skip towards
glittering castles hanging
precariously in thin air,
proud parents happily
clapping them along.
Who the hell do you think you are
Being SO judgmental
You're looking down your nose at me
Acting fundamental
The "truth" that you and chastity
are both synonymous
Is really quite an travesty
It's rather quite obnoxious
Instead of throwing stones my way
Peer at a looking glass
and then if what you see's a saint
Then pelt those stones with class
for all that you accuse me of
is what you do as well
you live a life devoid of love
give others taste of hell
I'm mad; I'm mad; I'm over steamed
I'm really livid too
For you're a sinner, just like me
You know, my dear, it's true!!!
Eileen Manassian
Thanks Andrea for getting my "angry" muse to speak. Inspired after reading Andrea's entry for Mad as a Hornet Contest.