Long Paranoid Poems
Long Paranoid Poems. Below are the most popular long Paranoid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paranoid poems by poem length and keyword.
Such a lame and stupid reason to say
Make myself a stalker like I’m catching my prey
Maybe this is so what they called being paranoid
I don’t know if this is something I have to avoid
Now I’m fallen to my own trap and about to die
Don’t need to escape and spread these wings to fly
My mistake, my bad, I’m the most stupid of all
Please give me chance and don’t make my tears fall
Over the phone, I said sorry for hundred times
Your grudge was grieving multiply by million times
So I do want to apologize – please forgive me now
I’ll do everything and make a solemn vow
It’s not my intention to hurt you bad
Now I think I’m the worst and most stupid fad
I’ll give you time to disperse the angst in your heart
By the time you’re fine – let’s make a good start
I may not sleep well for this entire night
How shall we end this very first fight?
My mistake, my bad, I'm the most stupid of all
I hope someday you will answer my call
To parents,
and other adults of voting age,
in significant responsible relationships
plagued by political abuse
and economic neglect.
We could invest less time and resources trying to discover
if harm came to us,
and those for whom we feel responsible,
because of an impoverished economy
or polarized segregation.
If you're asking,
the answer is yes.
Economic waste on defending
what cannot be responsibly conserved
is the merely logical conclusion
of our way too much LeftBrain-RightWing dominant
dissociation.
Abuse, neglect, marginalization, monoculturalism
elitism, nationalism, chauvinism, evangelicalism, zealotry,
aggressive hostility, assertive apathy, religiosity
of any egocentric and anthropocentric
might-is-right defensive type
Between always right v always wrong identities,
personal and/or geopolitical and/or disinvested economic
neglect of polyculturally positive climate health
Neuro-sexsensory systemic
and ecosystemic
neglect of healthcare responsibility
and lifecare opportunities
to co-empathically liberate dissociative polarization
feeds and breeds
more impoverishing LeftBrain-RightWing
disassociating trauma,
chronic stress,
paranoid
anxious
caste-preservation.
A compassionate
and more pleasant
way of curing in-house v out-house neglect
is to stop competing to disinvest
away from democracy's richer
and healthier potential
Multi-enculturing
as if All Organic Life Matters
were your domestic, everyday
Political/Economic Business As Win/Win Cooperatively Usual.
Those neglected and abused,
whether individual people
or individual nations,
are neglected
by monoculturing anti-social
LeftBrain-RightWing dissociative polarization
Untouched up by neurosystemic
and ecosystemic
Win/Win democratic
mind/body healthcare opportunity.
There's a blind man on the corner
That keeps staring at me
As the dog that's sitting by his side
Keeps whispering in his ear
I know their talking about me
Cause the blind man keeps nodding his head
I'm not paranoid or anything
At least I don't think that I am
I keep straining hard to listen
But to many words do I miss
At this very moment
I wish I could read dog lips
As if this couldn't get any stranger
A bus pulls up to the curb
Out steps Wayne Newton
And before he utters a word
He pulls a cat out of his bag
With a sharp chill on the wind
The cat and the dog both hug
They appear to be the best of friends
As if this is not strange enough
The blind man drops the leash
The cat picks it up
As he and the dog skip off down the street
Where they're picked up for jay walking by the Chief of Police
Wayne Newton gave a concert
With the money we paid their bail
When it came time for their release
They were no longer in jail
All there was was a tunnel
With a blank note left behind
Cause everybody knows
Cats and dogs can't write
Last that I heard
They had a Villa in the South of France
Where they took in blind mice
And taught them all how to dance
Which started a new dance craze called
The "Blind Mice Dance Like They Got Ants In Their Pants" Dance
I swear this all really happened!
If you don't believe me you can ask my Armadillo,
but listen closely...cause he's a whisperer too.
His organization taken apart,
he found himself hiding in a safe house,
paranoid that Jones would learn he was there,
so crazed he made sure all the lights were doused,
he did not even bring along his spouse,
keeping a half-dozen armed me with him,
then one evening the door was blasted in.
In the smoke and the haze he heard gunshots,
but could not get a good look at the fight,
from the painful cries of all his henchmen
he figured that things were not going right,
then his leg felt a bullet’s harsh bite,
as he moaned in pain, his last henchman fell,
Jones was the doom on his whole cartel…
But when he looked up, he felt quite confused,
it wasn’t Jones who loomed over him there,
but an older man, armed like a soldier,
early fifties with thin, graying hair,
and frigid eyes that could stare down a bear.
This wasn’t a foe Delgado had known,
perplexed, he blubbered,”I thought you were Jones!”
The man did not seem to know who that was,
based on the indifferent look on his face,
he aimed his AR straight at Delgado,
and in a gruff, angry voice he did say
“Did you think I would let you get away?
After the cops found my son’s body wrecked,
dumped in a gutter, and shot through the neck?”
Delgado’s mind raced, drawing a blank,
it took a bit, but he remembered,
the nameless henchman that he’d had to shoot
for being dumb enough to question his word!
The thought of it was utterly absurd!
But there was no doubt in this old man’s glare,
a father’s cold rage was all he saw there…
The cops found his body a day later,
they called the grieving Jones onto the scene,
he looked on and saw the throat had been cut
using the method they taught to marines,
he said as if waking from a long dream:
“You lived by the sword, there’s one way to go,
but none can be sure whose sword lands the blow.”
Conjuring anxiety, obstructing path of hope,
A quivering hesitation, frightened to cope;
Fear is omnipresent causing anguished moan
Agitating aspirations in distress of unknown.
Fear is darkness, a trepidation upon norm,
Worrisome, trembling, turbulent as storm;
An obstacle threatening progress of life,
A messenger of panic, an architect of strife.
Treacherous to audacity, fear is a cheat,
A betrayal to victories, fretting of defeat;
Fear is melancholy, an expression of gloom,
Hampering courage, perturbing in doom.
Fear is a loathsome impediment to goals,
Dashing endeavors of endearing souls;
Averse to commitment as love goes awry,
A remorseful cry, where lost kinships sigh.
Unwelcome emotion imprisoning ambition
Unleashing inaction of paranoid inhibition,
Fear immobilizes, as if, bird trapped in cage;
Paranoid, valor-less, upon life’s center stage.
January 21, 2023
Placed 1st: Fear Is Liar Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Even as a child he was cruel As an adult he was paranoid and unstable
It was fun to torture animals Forced thousands to flee their lands
Throwing them off high places He was obsessed with torturing and killing
Had his own torture chamber Destroyed thousands of villages
He killed his wife after one day In a massacre he killed 60,000 people
Everyone was an enemy to him Parents watched him kill their children
He even killed his own son in a rage Liked to feed people to bears and wolves
Carried a long staff and used it He would order an execution and watch
Ordered people to be beheaded Girls were raped and tortured slowly
Hanged, burned, boiled, impaled And used as target practice for enjoyment
And more, so horrible I cannot write His torturing could last for 15 hours
This event in history was long He was Tsar of Russia from 1533 - 1584
He was Ivan the Terrible He died playing chess, poisoned it is said.
______________________________
June 26, 2016
Jagged Verse
But I won't soften in your arms
I bristle when you touch me
I won't break loose my love for you
Why? Because I'm angry!
You're all ganging up on me
All in the name of love
You lunge at me with open arms
Just begging for a hug
Don't any of you realize
You’re pushing me away?
My space is getting smaller
With each boundary that I lay
I feel so trapped inside this cage
No shelter from the rain
I'm standing at the window
Just scratching at the pane
Your eyes all stare in pity as I try and look away
I gaze off into the sky of melancholy gray
Don't tell me that I'm paranoid
Don’t tell me that I'm wrong
'Cause I've known this for quite some time - I know I don't belong
And when I feel the sting of your smug indignity
This so-called “intervention" will be the death of me
Lonely I reside inside a metropolis of tents,
not too far from an anthill of insignificance,
It’s little occupants take no notice of me
and why should they, for I’m insipid waste,
Growing weary and paranoid I prod the
anthill with a stick, seeking some attention,
A few ants come out to check, turn around and go back in,
it’s just that scruffy dumb kid again, ignore him
I walk away deflated and depressed at
my inability to interact, and rouse them into action,
Fruitlessly probing at inanimate outcrops,
just fills me with more inadequacy,
Killing time killing the day
nowhere to go nowhere to play,
But wait hold on! things are looking up, I’ve been
given a mask, now the ants won’t recognize me,
I can’t wait to play with them tomorrow
A child in UNHCR camp, somewhere in the
middle of anywhere, that’ll take him
Human Rights Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
01/12/21
There is an old cemetery in my city full of legends,
and stories, one I find creepy is people being buried alive;
back in the day there were many buried prematurely,
according to tales, once there was an earthquake and caskets;
were discovered with scratch marks on the inside of the lids.
There were even stories of people waking up during embalming,
I guess the determination of death back then was questionable.
The fear was so real for the wealthy and paranoid,
they purchased "safety caskets" so just in case they could signal;
from the inside to the outside world by ringing a bell,
or raising a flag to say, I'm alive here six feet down, please hurry!
So the legend says.
________________________
April 5, 2017
Narrative/"Buried Alive" Creepy Legend
Copyright Protected, ID 890129
Written for the contest, Urban Legends
Sponsor, Nayda Yvette Negron
When I had nothing
a voice asked me
What do you want?
I replied with everything
The voice asked me "What do you mean by EVERYTHING
I was stunned for some time
for what could everything mean
other than the Money,
the Fame, the Following
Man wasn' that obvious.
When I got a lil' older,
Of course when I got only one of the many things I want
(not even something big from the things above).
I heard the voice again,
It asked again
What do you want.
I answered EVERYTHING
like the last time
It asked again "what does it mean?
I guess getting paranoid would be much better,
but I smiled, just a little but I smiled.
Then I answered,
the Friends, the laughter, the Time,
the Sanity, the willingness to go on.
then a question arrived
SANITY!? willingness to GO-ON!?
then I thought of it I would not require those,
for I only need the Friends and the Laughter
THAT I LOST, just for the MANY things of the list.
The voice laughed, really laughed
I asked, "Who are you?
It answered with "look toward your right
Well,
Even I had a laugh when I saw...
saw my reflection in the mirror.
I Laughed, for I deep down knew the cost
for the things I want was too much for me to bear,
But I pushed, pushed to the point when I had no one to turn to
no one to turn to even for a small achievement,
a small achievement out of my To-Achieve list
list as big as a novel.
Hence I just laughed, not for my ACHIEVEMENT,
but for my FAILURE.