Long Problem child Poems
Long Problem child Poems. Below are the most popular long Problem child by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Problem child poems by poem length and keyword.
He was a cowboy problem child
rescued by a mendicant sage brush sorcerer
resulting in his remembering everything
flawlessly insolently permanantly
birth death life things in space have a beer
owner of his own head at last
thanks to whiskey tainted improvisations
and the use of springs and levers
in order to bring the Almighty down to earth
for a patch job on his many severed limbs
he slept on a bed of maguey spines
combed his tumbleweed hair over the burn spots
and tattooed his many and fecund scars into
the outlines of zippers and pockets
Tex Lester was a lariat twirling minstrel
and undefeated Popsicle stick swordsman
subject to a chronic howling for pootang
Tex took me under his leathery wings
together we praised the pop up toaster
and often spoke of mechanics and luck
taught me to look at girls all anew
in the little red school house by the cactus patch
Miss LobowskI beat off my attempts
at humping her leg during her class in ethics
as if a description of total damnation
could repair the broken mosaic of attention
Tex would implore with the tact of a scorpion
madam cover your eyes in the name of decency
what could I do but wake the dead
and digress distressingly in the dirt
a heartfelt rain making non-sequitir
well kids are full of surprises
uninhibited by mystery or murderous rage
complete they are in a different way
but the more Miss Lobowski's convex mariachis
bucked and danced under her wet serape
the more it popped into Tex's ten gallon head
to teach her an old cowboy rope trick
round and round went his cowboy lariat
the desire to repeat pleasure unfortunately
is the desire to repeat it exactly endlessly
and that's the problem the big problem
at the museum of horrible deaths
you grab their ears and whisper
rest your head on a cloud angel
and hope they don't end up on top
of a truckload of flattened automobiles
he went crazy on her flesh
let loose his gila monster on her blazing ****
and together they began robbing banks
this is going to cost me my diploma
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
I was born at the tail end of the Goldhawk Road
Which runs through Shepherds Bush
Like an artery,
And in the mid 1960s,
Served as one of the great centres
Of the London Mod movement,
But I was raised in relative gentility
In a ward of nearby South Acton
Whose vast council estate
Is surely the most formidable
Of the whole of West London.
Although my little suburb
Has since become
One of its most exclusive neighbourhoods.
My first school was a kind of nursery
Held locally on a daily basis
At the private residence
Of one Miss Henrietta Pearson,
And then aged 4 years old,
I joined the exclusive
Lycee Francais du Kensington du Sud,
Where I was soon to become bilingual
And almost every race and nationality
Under the sun was to be found
At the Lycee in those days...
And among those who went on to be good pals mine
Were kids of English, French, Jewish, American,
Yugoslavian and Middle Eastern origin.
While my first closest pals were Esther,
The vivacious daughter
Of a Norwegian character actor
And a beautiful Israeli dancer,
And Craig, an English kid like myself,
With whom I remain in contact to this day.
For a time, we formed an unlikely trio:
"Hi kiddy," was Esther's sacred greeting
To her blood brother, who'd respond in kind.
But at some stage, I became a problem child,
A disruptive influence in the class,
And a trouble maker in the streets,
An eccentric loon full of madcap fun
And half-deranged imaginativeness.
("Born on the Goldhawk Road" is a versified version of one much reproduced in various forms throughout my writings, although it bears little resemblance to its original, which first glimpsed the light of day in around 2002. It's undergone much modification since then, including the alteration of all names of people and places for the solemn purpose of privacy.)
Today I Had Such A Hard Time
School Was Too Much For My Mind
Tears Filled My Eyes
But I Wouldn't Let Anyone Hear My Cries
Additude Was Written All Over Me
Like Grafiti On The Window Sill That You Sometimes See
My Hands Shoved In The Pockets Of My Jeans
A Problem Child At Only Fifteen
Runaway Two Nights Before
Hate My Momma So Much I Just Walked Out That Door
Came'on Back 'Cause I Got No Where Else To Go
A Slap On The Face Is All That I Got To Show
Screaming At Eachother, Saying We Hate Eachother So Much
I Tell Her Imma Leave Again, If One Hair On My Head She Decides To Touch
Daddy Aint Home, He Left For A Few Days
Leaving My Sanity In A Fragile Haze
Sentenced To My Room, To Sit There And Die
All Day Long I Have To Hide
Wrote My Friends Name In Sharpie On My Skin
To Keep Away The Cuts That Would Have Been
No Drugs Are Around Me, Thats A Relieve
It Makes My Goals Of Soberness, Easier To Achieve
Momma Leaves For Work, That Makes Me So Glad
It Makes It Easier To Calm Down And Not Be Mad
Daddy Comes Home, At Twelve O'Clock Midnight
It Seems That Him And The Woman He Loves Had Another Fight
No, Daddy Isn't Cheating, She Doesnt Feel The Same Way
Now They're Just Friends, And Thats All That They Will Stay
Daddy Is Mad, Someone Got On His Bad Side
My Mind Flashes Back To The Night Of Our 'Great Divide'
Tears Start Streaming, My Hands Start To Shake
I Wont Let Him Know That Im Scared, Even If I Have To Fake
This Dark Man In Daddy, Taught Me Street
Things To Remember, In The Battle Heat
I Will Not Be Afraid
That Weakness Cant Be Displayed
I Will Not Hide
I Must Have More Pride
I Will Not Ever Cry
That Rule I Must Abide
I Will Not Cower
Unless I Want To Be Devoured
I Will Not Be Weak
Unless I Want To Be Beat
That Man That Scares Me And Is Full Of Deciet
Taught Me That Those Are The Rules Of The Street
I Went To Sleep
And Didn't Weep
Woke Up Late
Still Hurt And Full Of Hate
Made Up My Mind
I'll Be Living At Hersey, Next Year This Time
Just To Get Away
Away Before I Decay
Before I Die
JUST WRONG
Throughout my life’s journey, I chanced to see,
Many things to this day that bother me,
The things that chose the path of my destiny,
the path of life towards my Philanthropy
I saw at a grocery parking lot,
a young girl with an old lady, weather seething hot,
Swearing and belittling her own grandmother
a berating like I’ve never heard no other.
I saw a man mercilessly beating his dog,
Two policeman beating two black boys in a fog,
I saw in an abandoned parking lot,
Two parents stripping branches that they each had got,
Their teen daughter screamed out in the rear of their car,
As they both administered lashes and a life altering scar.
I saw a man teaching his 3 year old how to read,
His badgering comments spoken, made my heart bleed,
A black child in her classroom, smart as a whip,
Raising hands, trying to answer, yet constantly skipped,
And when overcome with dejection, hurtfully cried,
Seeing the favor upon the others her goddess teacher applied.
Scolded and made to feel she was a problem child,
Became jealous and disruptive and labeled wild.
I saw a tearful mother slapped by her child,
Fearfully tempered her voice pleading, all the whole while.
Seemingly entirely vacant of parental authority,
Asking her child’ “Please behave. You’re embarrassing me.”
These things and things alike, are all around,
indicative of a morale that is utterly cast down,
Our country spirals into a very dangerous spin,
As our society implodes by it’s poverties within,
Yet seemingly more powerful than money, political ability,
Leading our country into hatred and moral senility,
And the power of the stars, called celebrities,
Swaying all of America living, with heroic hypocrisies,
Yet the true heroes are struggling, and are underpaid,
And seem to be outnumbered by the media wave.
I just have to believe as in this life I go along,
That I am more than just a witness of what’s, just wrong.
Attention:
This one is the problem child.
Mom and dad deny autonomy
take authority over a diary
supervised at all times; no privacy
door hinge wide open
so why are the walls closing in?
This home is an emotion free zone
Mom says save it for therapy
but stops taking me
says my borderline personality is burdening this family’s budget
believes I’ll be cured if she just burns enough cliches into my brain
“Just be happy with what you have,
what have you crafted in your head that is such a tragedy?"
I got pills to pop and prices to pay
I got emotions but I keep 'em oceans away
beyond the combination lock on a black box
Warning:
This medication may make it worse.
Unbearable.
And ain’t that just ironic?
peace of mind partners with possibilities
of seeming more psychotic
but it’s better this way.
Right?
Anticipate a thirty day delay
and lag like yesterday on your last leg
It’s better this way.
burrow into bed and brand yourself braindead
Just pretend, society says, suffer silently!
act as if any abnormality is absent
accept that it’s actually an act
learn to lock down your breakdowns
let them drown to the box’s rock bottom
Growing sick of cloaking conflicts
in courtesy of concealing others' comfort
so sorry if you choke
I will not spoon feed what you can’t swallow
I will scream my anxieties
annunciate every aspect of agony
trapping me where serotonin's lacking
Lab rat crawling its way back
taste-testing chill pills
forgetting how to feel real
sleepwalking through a social setting
so sick, yeah, I’m real ill
Everyone tends to forget,
the tension doesn’t rest when the poem ends.
* was unsure about posting this as this is a very personal experience I wrote it to convey my feeling in a blog *
These are the words I could not speak, with no guidance in my teens I took to drink until I found a lass who dragged me back we had a few good years, we had a lad and a lass the lad is fine grew tall and strong.
But look at me I've skipped ahead, a few good years like I said, then we split coz things were dead in the end, she left the kids and a load of debt.
I loved my kids and still do my daughter was a problem child something happened at her birth a lack of air that made her sick a mental illness was the result with bad moods and angry display's, no school or place could hold her so always back home she came.
She turned eighteen a calmer time I thought, but soon the darkest of days arrived just a normal day, in a normal week, in a normal life.
To the kitchen I went, a cup of coffee would hit the spot I heard my daughter behind me from the rattle in the sink,
it's a cup she will be looking for so I turned to ask what she wanted to drink.
I got it wrong it was a knife that had been lifted from the sink, as I turned the downward stroke was almost complete, the knife caught me in the chest her aim was off just a bit, a tangle of arms a fight for my life resulted in that damn knife hitting the deck if I not turned chances are it would have been a fatal blow to the neck.
She went away handcuffed up, not a word or glance between us passed never to see my darling daughter again how can a bloke live with that.
I bet you didn't know that the 7 dwarfs
Used to work for Santa Claus
Yep, they all got fired from the north pole
Cause they kept breaking too many laws
See, Doc was the north pole physician
He tended to those who were afflicted
But he was writing too many prescriptions
And three hundred elves got addicted
Then we have the dwarf called Sneezy
Sneezy became a problem too
Everywhere he goes he's blowing his nose
And they all came down with the flu
Next we have the dwarf named Sleepy
Now this one should speak for itself
He was always found somewhere laying down
Curled up in a corner on a shelf
Then there's the dwarf called Bashful
This one was just way too shy
And when they finally gave him his pink slip
He was too embarressed to say goodbye
That brings us to the dwarf named Happy
Now he was just a bundle of joy
But they just couldn't get him to do any work
Cause he was always playing with the toys
And of course we can't forget about Dopey
This one always did what they said
But he was a little slow, if you know what I mean
And they think he was dropped on his head
And last but not least we have Grumpy
He would stay out drinking all night
Now he was the north pole's problem child
Cause he was always starting all the fights
Well that's the end of my story
And I really hope you're not annoyed
Did I tell you Snow White fired them too?
Yep, all seven dwarfs are unemployed
Have you ever had days where it’s felt like your heart wasn’t working right? Maybe it felt like your chest was feeling really tight? Have you ever had a hard time turning your brain off at night? You’ve even tried wishing on a shooting star “I wish I may, I wish I might”, but you still end up with no appetite? Have you ever felt like every sad song you listen to is about you? Do you ever wonder if they care about you, as much as you care about them? Have you ever had to pretend? Have you ever wanted to make a change in the world? Have you ever laid in bed in the dark, under the blankets just curled? Was there a time where you’ve made a mistake? Have you ever been through a heartache? Have you ever wanted to change who you are? Have you wished you were just alone drunk at a bar? Have you thought about how you’ve even made it through life so far? Do you get the urge to pick up and leave and never come back? Do you feel like some days you’re going to fade into the black? Have you ever lost someone closed to you? Did it make you feel blue? What did you do? Did you scream to the heavens and beg for them to come back? Have you ever wished life could just be back tracked? Do you feel like you’re the problem child? How do you feel when you don’t remember passing out on the bathroom tile? Hopefully, all this will make sense in a little while, but until then, you'll just sit there and smile.
Along time ago i felt lost.
My life was like walking into fog.
Misfortune.
I felt as tho god hated me,
to have my childhood taken from me.
Like a teen trapped in a nightmare.
Those nightmares you never wish on anyone,
but yet you felt as tho you had to walk through it alone.
Its our secret my sweet little one,
tho i knew at that age it was wrong but to hard to speck up.
I think thats where i knew god didnt care for me,
falling into deep depression as a teen.
Is a big warning sign,
it was telling people something was very wrong.
But i was labled a problem child.
Bursts of angry and tears, many temps of suicide.
Night terrors creeped into my room at night,
Beauitful dreams became dark,
with sudden flashes of my teen life.
Its been 15 years since that day.
I grew stronger more wiser.
I now know god loves me,
hes giving me the strength to pick myself of the ground. Where i once laid. But the demon still lives deep inside me,
its the thing that stops me from happiness.
From smiling, it just keeps me crying.
But god sent me an angel to help, he smiles and brightens my darkest days.
He hugs me and washs away my pain, he laughs and i see myself laughing along with him. He is the sun in my home, the most natural thing that can beat a bad life is a childs love.
Form:
MY WAY
I see reflections of my life, how I arrived
at this stage of my telling life, the phase I thrive.
Was a curious child with too many questions
that I kept to myself from my keen attention
for inquiries from a child were not welcoming.
Was hard to conform to ways, so disenchanting.
I was a rebel without a cause inside me
for showing off good reputation was not me.
Like going to church every Sunday was for show
for following and applying scriptures were low.
Complain, compare and criticize were always said.
Whatever is true, praiseworthy were not impelled.
Verbal abuse were there too, mean words stabbing you,
affecting your belief, doubting their love for you.
The kind of environment they grew up, passed on
to next generation and could continue on.
I was a problem child for not caring about
others’ opinions of me, I could go without.
Being different was not easy; but being
myself, staying positive gave my life meaning.
7/28/21 An Interesting Couplet Poetry
Funom Makama
Meter Used: 12 syllables (How Many Syllables)
Used: RhymeZone