Long Mental institution Poems

Long Mental institution Poems. Below are the most popular long Mental institution by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mental institution poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member I'm Not in Kansas Anymore

(Mimic the song..."If I Only Had A Brain" by the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz)

I could be so independent

So lavish and resplendent

Just a player in the game

I would wield mighty powers

And be mesmerized for hours

If I only knew my name

Oh nothing's getting clearer

This stranger in the mirror

Every day it's just the same

I don't think I'm Richard Nixon

It's my brain that needs a fixin'

If I only knew my name

I must have washed up on the shore

I'm not in Kansas anymore

Tell me who am I to blame

Am I a winner or a loser

Am I sober or a boozer

If I only knew my name 

Who's my father and my mother

Have I sister and a brother

To remember is the aim

Was I born just an orphan

Or was I metamorphin'

If I only knew my name 

Were there starlets I was meetin'

Or did I take a beatin'

A sad history or fame

Did I grow up in the gutter

Only eating peanut butter

If I only knew my name 

It would be an inspiration 

If I got an invitation

By the Queen or Royal Dame

All my senses would be tinglin'

When they crowned me King of England

If I only knew my name 

Would I do it all for spite

Is it wrong or is it right

Let me tell you it's a shame

Do I love 'em or I hate 'em

Is that my one ultimatum

If I only knew my name

I would wave my country's banners

And practice proper manners

Not to do so is so lame

I would call no gal a heifer

Or a guy a mother effer

If I only knew my name 

Am I a true brainiac

Or a total maniac

This confusion I must tame

I may need some absolution 

In a mental institution 

If I only knew my name 

From the summer through the fall

I kept trying to recall

But the memory never came

Am I coming am I going 

There's just no way of knowing 

If I only knew my name 

When I stand I'm dizzy still 

There has got to be a pill

Guess I may go down in flame

This must be some strange disease 

Won't somebody help me please 

If I only knew my name

Well I feel so out of place

I want to join the human race

So now I'm here to stake my claim

And I'm hopin' and believin'

That one day this fog is leavin'

If I only knew my name
Form: Lyric


Wits of a Man

The night was frigid and at its poorest,
But who am I to judge, when I was not the wisest,
A slight breeze crawled up my spine,
I could taste the wind’s saltiest brine.
My eyes conveyed to an old lodge,
So I can refuge, from this monstrous botch.
The place was dim, obnoxious and dingy,
But thank god there is no hole for the breeze to carry.
 
But what was interesting, that there was a mural,
It was so boundless, that it gave an unsettling moral.
The colors were faded, and burdened with marks,
Like it was meant to be destroyed, no needed remarks.
It displayed pictures of a young woman and maid,
I wonder who was the artisan that made this eerie portrait.
The face of the woman was covered with graze,
But the maid was gnarly and gave deep piercing evil gaze.
 
For a moment I thought, I had gone mad,
When I thought the maid turned from wicked to sad.
I blinked my visions, to trust my perception,
I opened my eyes, to found the maid was not in front of the reception.
My face was pale, my hairs were struck,
I pounced up when I heard the lightning struck.
I thought to myself I was delirious,
Maybe the maid was not actually there, no need to conclude something mysterious.
 
 
 
 
 
I waited a duration until the weather calmed down,
But the French maid entity made my brain vigorously mount.
The brews were gone, I got ready to abandon,
When I looked at the painting before, to eased my  tension.
My limbs were trembling , as I took a deep stare,
First the maid, now the scrawny  woman wasn’t there.
I backed to leave when voices disturbed me,
saying “You’re going nowhere, this is the place you’ll ever be.”
 
 
I rushed towards the exit when I still had my sane,
Till I dropped down realized my legs were shackled with chains.
I got up apprehended that my costume is now white,
And my hands were completely immovable as it was actually shut tight.
The lodge was dying into an atrocious looking room,
I was squirming on the floor, demanding release from this horrible doom.
Until I notice on top of the iron door,
A header flaunting; “the mental institution of schizophrenia & more”.
Form: Couplet

I Was Built For This

They said my life is worthless, but my net worth is priceless. 
I'm one of the nicest. I've been bless to express my life on this. 

I was built for this, so they can miss me with that snuffed up "ish",
No need to curse on this, no disrespect needed, it's time that we be kind and courteous. 

What occurs to us could be a curse for us; but what occurred is a must and in god we should trust. 
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, consider yourself dead if we continue to live unjust. 

Cause there's no justification for your judgmental infatuation, 
In fact your situation is a declaration of your own character in question. 

Any questions?

In consideration, I'm trying to make sense of this verbal composition, 
But you're always in competition with your mental institution, while you're in a mindless and clueless position. 

I'm no illusion. But from all the confusions, I became a realest. 
I never said I'm the best, but I'm always at my best to the fullest. 

And somehow haters new about this and that's the reason why they started hating on this. 
Trying to convince me that I wasn't built for this. 

Instead, they became my photosynthesis I became photosensitive to there photo-negative emphasis. 
I had no choice but to put an end to this and considered it a life changing experiences. 

My fearfulness went into a metamorphosis. 
Went from more fear to less, that morphed into too bless to be stressed over some senseless mess. 

Therefore I rise. Like high risers in the sky I've arrived. 
The sky is the limit and I'm going to live in the sky till the day I die. 

Who am I? 

It's no question I'm a reflection of the most high; far from perfection, 
But His intentions are perfect, perfectly prophesied by my third eye.
Form: Acrostic

Intimations of My Late Mother As a Bachelorette

Attempt to shine
     flickering figurative klieg light
with the help of hyperbole
     on poverty wrought
debutante material, this predicated
     on my own unbiased thought
initially related during
     my early boyhood,

     how many countless
     bachelor beaus sought
to pledge their troth,
     who hailed (strictly
     for purposes of this poem)
     from Pennsauken,
     Perth Amboy, Penobscot,

but thee essential truth ought
to be gleaned (lodged
     as like some precious gem
within geode, qua Harriet Kuritsky,
     who oft times recounted her
     personal anecdotal information)

underlying veritable truth, I allude
means to underscore
     how thine late mum
     as the "baby" of her family
     wore mantle of exclusive favoritism,
     sans donning beautiful clothes
     perfectly cared for,
     coiffed, and curled hair

     (think Shirley Temple)
     as her older sisters brewed
festered, and steeped with jealousy,
     asper me mother receiving
     lion's share of blatant favoritism
all the while said long since
     deceased maternal aunts got exclude
did from requisite
 
     (shut heard textbook case) maternal love,
     hence within their cerebral hood
     incubated, evolved, and flourished
     emotional disease affliction
     with changeable mood

and thee Aunt Ruth oblivious,
     while pacing hallway in the nude
whereat verbally abuse sent
     both aunts to mental institution
insanity didst the
     ultimate discordant prelude

resulting viz lifetime
     of baleful, hateful, shameful,
     and worthless venom got spewed,
hence no surprise
     rabid mailer daemons
     courted, thus psychosis easily wooed.
Form: Ballad

Marriage

Marriage


Some say marriage
Is a legal constitution
But some married people
Belong in a mental institution

A man wife don’t listen to him
She says he’s very cheap
The only way she pays attention
Is if he talking in his sleep

So he plays a trick on her
Say he got back pay that week
She cooks roti and fry alloo for him
And only kissing him on the cheeks

In marriage you start as a man
Then turns to a boy in time 
The woman takes your pay check
And you can’t go out and lime

A friend told me his girlfriend
Had a  small cute mouth
After they married you could 
Hear her from cocoyea roundabout

All women are magicians
They born with that gift
Can put a man straight down
And then can give him a lift

Men are not magicians
What they is I can’t tell
Some does have a good woman
And still give her hell

Some men get their pay on Friday
Then drink out every cent
While the child don’t any diaper
And the wife can’t pay the rent

Then when he comes home
He asking for rice and duck meat
But he didn’t bring home any money
They have no grocery to eat

 He has a lady in the market
Selling fruits, vegetables, and chive
Every time he goes out with her
He comes home and beat his wife

I hear she leave him and
 Gone by she mother house
The market lady dump him
Now he feeling like a louse

Marriage must build on respect
It’s so important to have
Because with out respect
Your love will start too stave

This is just my little philosophy
That I would like to share
For you young couples
I’m not trying to make you fear

A man has a nice daughter
He wants to fix us up
Boy I start running
Up till today I never stop


Premium Member For Beauty

Last Week my brother called and said his mother was dying,
I felt his hope,
So I prayed for God to resurrect her,
This week all of her organs shut down and she has been on the edge of death,
My brother called me to pray,
I cried out to God with fierce anger,
And asked him, “Why do you allow us to hope, when you deny the very faith that we strive
to hold to?”
A time ago, I gave my life to God,
And I said these words, “Dear Lord I present myself as a living sacrifice to you, do with
me what you will.”
A year later, I was in a mental institution scarcely aware of my name,
There are times when I feel God’s gentle caress about me,
It is only then that I understand:
	That every choice I make for hope, spreads hope despite the outcome,
	And every choice I make for love, spreads love, no matter what hate might come on its   
        wake
A time ago, I chose a wife and the world said we were too young,
And we wrestled with tides of discontent for quite some time,
But now, when I see her smile, I feel the merciful touch of God’s grace,
You see this life has no guarantees except for one, that through it all, God’s love is real,
That through it all, if we strive for hope,
We will know beauty.
Sometimes I see myself and can’t find a thing to reverence,
Sometimes I hear my thoughts and want to run away with terror,
But for beauty, in beauty, I stand and walk and live and breathe,
And though I have no guarantees,
For beauty I continue,
For when I see the snapshots of God’s love in this world,
From a distance place, far from here,
I will not remember much,
Except I will know beyond doubt and belief as well,
That it was beautiful!

Premium Member Sure Cure For a Sick Nation

Alas, we've elected bozos on both sides to again guide the nation!
(Some folks are sobbing in their ale, others are filled with jubilation!)
To rid this great nation of such knaves, here is what I would propose:
Elect retired noncoms who are well qualified to lead, heaven knows!

Noncoms are known for their integrity and by the way, lead from the front!
They don't take shhhtuff from anyone and are known to be rather blunt!
There should be a crusty Master Chief to head the Navy overseeing the fleet,
And a Marine Gunny Sergeant should occupy every congressional seat!

A Staff Sergeant who's been in the trenches should be the Secretary of Defense.
Chief Master Sergeants qualify for the oval office (Obama, take no offense!)
Sergeants First Class would eminently qualify for the Secretary of Labor.
They'd put deadbeats to work so as not to mooch off their neighbor!

There's a horde of Navy Petty Officers who'd qualify for Treasury Secretary,
Who've faithfully paid their taxes unlike some Yale czars to the contrary!
There's a brigade of Sergeants Major who'd excel as the Secretary of State,
Who'd tell other nations where to go if they didn't deal with us straight!

Master and Technical Sergeants are well qualified to occupy a governor's chair.
Their prime concern is the welfare of folks, not just building castles in the air!
Retired Noncoms are a special breed who believe in and uphold the Constitution!
Patriots who'd oust the current clowns, some of whom qualify for a mental institution!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Curtains

Setting: Central Park, with a lake directly behind the character Giselle, who is sitting on a large rock.
Characters:
Giselle (G): A pretty redhead, who lives in a fantasy world, believing she is a princess.
Frog (F): A frog Giselle hears talking somewhere near the rock.
Dialogue:
F: Hey, Miss, why are you sitting on a rock?
G: What’s that? Who’s there? I heard somebody talk.
F: I’m down here, Miss, admiring your frock of pink and blue.
G: Oh my! It’s you? But you’re a frog. A frog I’m talking to?
F: Yes, but truly I’m a prince. A spell was put on me.
G: Oh my. I know your story and what will set you free.
F: You say you know my story? Whoever might you be?
G: I’m a princess searching for my prince, but nobody believes me.
F: Well, get this. Every time I talk, people think I’m croaking.
G: Wow! I hear you clearly. They’ve got to be joking.
F: You’re as pretty as a princess. It’s fate that we should meet.
G: You recognize who I am. Dear frog, you are so sweet.
F: Yes, Dear. I am a prince. You know what you must do.
G: Yes, I know what I must do to have a love that’s true.
F: Please pick me up, my darling, and give me true love’s kiss.
G: Oh, my prince. Our life will be filled with so much bliss. (she leans down to pick up the frog).
Epilogue: Caught immediately upon kissing the frog, Giselle is whisked off by her father to the mental institution from which she had fled.
Form: Verse

Trapped and Lost

Endless madness,                                          02-12-2000
blurs my mind...
I look around
and can not find...

Any Peace or Reconciliation...

There is a war deep within myself...
These demons, I can not stop the things I do,
when they possess my mind...
I can not escape
what I have locked inside...

For it is I who bares the key...

What am I,
but not like the rest...
Each and every day
seems to be a test...
A fight for survival,

A hunt, an endless nightmare...

I am trapped,
held hostage by a force
more greater than man...
God is what is deep within...

What happens is the choice
that I'm overthrown by...
I can not be free...
I have no choice,
the choices are made by 
my spiritual intellect...

Everyday seems to drift apart,                                             02-19-2000
from all my empty life...
The fulfillment of all things,
I had hoped to have,

washed away by a past disturbed....

If only love was stronger,
maybe it would have not been so bad...
But the drifting apart,
torn away all those hopes and dreams...
If only faith was stronger
and the belief not denied...
If I was loved for me inside,
instead of what I was capable of doing...

Must I strive forth to more days,
and have to dwell on the way
I had hoped how things could have been???
It could have been a lot more,
It seems to be lost...
But it is there... 

I must find myself to establish the way,
I had always wished our lives would have been...

written while I was in Sircys mental institution... 12-12-00 and 12-19-00

In need of change

Land of the Free, Home of the Brave
Countless selfless sacrifices straight to the Grave
Disgracing with benevolent agenda trying to break our very Constitution
America has become a damn Mental Institution
No man gets left behind
Where was safe haven for these civilians to find?
Give up our allies
Watch silently as soldier after soldier dies
What cause did this benefit?Who exactly did this serve? and just Why? Why? Why?
Want to take our gun rights, but sit back pulling invisible triggers to this I ask are you high?
Open boarder policies make life easier for trafficking crimes 
How is this helpful as our very own are dropping like dimes
Hell if your not vaccinated in some areas they'll hold your own child hostage until you submit to guidelines
Wake up from this pandemic of zombie apocalypse people none of this is fine
They've got a lable for pedophilia, are you kidding me so that makes it okay?
Sexual preference is supposed to refer to gender not age and I wouldn't suggest even looking at a child creepily if we cross paths you best be on your way
If you use all of these labels you are a part of the problem weather for financial status or race
Only We the People can choose to unite drop labels like Martin Luther King Jr. and find within ourselves and show true grace
Our amendments our meant to protect We the People in upholding our Constitution
Before all life is lost and all rights are gone we must break the shackles now instead of settling and submitting to find a solution
Form: Rhyme

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