Long Psych ward Poems
Long Psych ward Poems. Below are the most popular long Psych ward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psych ward poems by poem length and keyword.
She came for help
But her body looks whole
It's better if the wound is exposed
So that staff knows where to go
The list of pains given
Inventory reveals troubled mind
Sent up to psych ward
For an evaluation that will take up time
Most just want medicine
To ease the torment, looping wires
A muscle relaxer for tension
Just enough to put out all the fires
Hours later, staff is reprimanded
For missing the hidden sign
A psychotic break has happened
Because the heart is connected to the mind
She just needed someone to see
To show care instead of evaluation
Worn from the moment to moment battle
The last incident is what brought her palpitation
Religion, the one safe place to go
Is the space where the man delivered the blow
He did not follow procedure or bylaws
As his power play put on a show
A traumatized woman her entire life
Never trusting a man for support or care
Can not even go to the elders for help
Because if they fail, she has no more heart to spare
...abandoned by authority
Written by Trudy Shcrader on 06-28-2026
Note: Daddy God fights for the widow and orphan
“Not even with a mask or 6 feet.
OK, 6 feet is military protocol.
You’re trying to get the people to train them
so when the cameras,
the 5G come out,
when they’re going to scan everybody.
We got to get scanned,
we got to get temperatured,
the kids have to go to school with masks.”
She posited a question
that she might have been asked herself.
“Are you insane?
Are you crazy?
I think all of you should
be in a psych ward right the heck now
. Because none of you,
none of you know
what the hell you a
re talking about.
This is insane.
And then you want to
open the meeting with a prayer to God.
Are you praying to the devil?
Because God
is not listening to that prayer.
Because all of you are
practicing the devil’s love.”
“What happened to Bill Gates?
Why is he not in jail?
Why is Hillary Clinton not in jail?
Why are all these pedophiles that are demanding
you all to listen to their rules,
why are they not in jail?
Why is Obama not in jail
What about Joe Biden
And Hunter Biden too
And Obama gate
And don’t forget Bhenzai
Why are all these pedophiles that are demanding
you all to listen to their rules,
why are they not in jail?
Do you take your orders from Jeffry Epstein?
“Oh, is it because you’re part of them?…
Oh, is it because you’re art part of them
Are you reptilian shapeshifters
The deep state is going down
and if any of you are in the deep state,
you’re going down with it.”
“I’d like to say, in the beginning God
formed man out of the earth
and breathed his breath in him
and he became a living soul,
“Oh, is it because you’re part of them?…
The deep state is going down
and if any of you are in the deep state,
you’re going down with it.”
“I’d like to say, in the beginning
God formed man out of the earth
and breathed his breath in him
and he became a living soul,
“Where do you derive
the authority to regulate human breathing?”
“I have many questions
about your degrees
and what you really know,
because what you say is the political dogma
that they’re trying to shove down our throats
on every commercial and every store,
and it’s disgusting,”
And I’m sorry, ma’am,
but I don’t think you are worthy of your credentials
and I would ask suggestively
that you go back to school and get educated.”
"When I was a kid my dad left me in a bad way .... he was
in the lives of my sisters and brothers but he wasn't in mine."
Quote by - Beth Hart
Her voice has an innate, inborn, visceral grittiness
dusty, raspy, raw with emotions of pain, aching, torment
and agony, an unstained contralto deep and low, and you
get lost in her voice, gliding on the waves of life with her
her name, Beth Hart, an American blues musician and singer
Born in 1972, Elizabeth (Beth) Hart is from California, USA
at 4 years old she played the piano concentrating on classical
music, like Bach and Beethoven but as she got older she
was playing artists like Etta James, Otis Redding, and Led Zeppelin
she has a magical voice like Janis Joplin and Tina Turner combined
As a young teen she was singing in open mic nights
and was playing clubs at fifteen, in 1993 band search she won
best female vocalist but her success went nowhere as she
became drug addicted, she spent all her winnings and hit bottom
even spent time in a psych ward for bi-polar and drug addiction
Beth has had ups and downs and she managed to have lots of hits
too many to list in this poem, but there are many hits that I fav
like LA Song, Don't Explain, Am I The One and many, many more
she collaborated with Joe Bonamassa and went on tour with him
and together they had hits, she also collaborated with Jeff Beck
Beth controls her addictions with religion and meditation now.
Joe said in an interview," I am totally knocked out by Beth. Here
is a lady who's acting like I'm the cool one and meanwhile I'm thinking
Man, she's got it all ... the next Janis Joplin . . the real deal, you know."
Random lyrics
War In My Mind
by Beth Hart
hollerin' all the time
black in my soul
and its ugly when I cry
there is a war in my soul
blood on the wall
hiding
making love to the
war in my mind
_____________________
May 09, 2023
Poetry/Bio/It's Ugly When I Cry
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1546-229-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Beth Hart Inspiration
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged05/09/2023
First Place
Social uselessness is a virtue of its own,
Those we cast aside, glance at and then away from quickly,
Lest they notice, and smell our guilt,
Are free to live immodestly,
There being no need for posturing
When one's invisible.
Trees that grow lumpen or misshapen
Are left to live long and go unfelled,
Never to be transformed into pencils and park benches.
They carry on, in love with the sun,
Spreading their arms to embrace the sky
Season upon season;
The children skip over their roots
And lovers loll beneath their boughs,
Their shade relieves the weary,
Their age comforts the old.
No carpenter's ambition
Will ever reach their wondrous hearts,
Then, perforce, transform them.
When they kick you, unwanted
Out of the hospital psych ward,
Your illness not important because you've done
Nothing to make the newspapers,
You can wander like a prophet, complete in yourself
Living your truths without needing an apologist.
So it is with those we look away from,
The odd shapes among us who don't fit our spaces.
There's more to be seen by looking between things
Than can be found by looking straight at them;
The unshaped space around us speaks with an incessant tongue
Interpretable only by the spirit.
So if you really want to slip the blindfold for a change
To see the ones hovering around the fringes,
Start by studying their shadows;
If they should deign to speak,
Listen with your eyes,
If you want to feel them,
Reach deep inside yourself and rub the sore spots
You spend the day denying.
Reflection sustains reality
Like dewdrops on a leaf.
Try to understand this like a lesson and you'll fail,
But accept it without judgement;
It will come to you.
No man finds more truth than he who looks for nothing;
This is writ upon the bark of twisted trees.
Read it, then know what wisdom is.
Aunt Lulu is brilliant, a genius.
Are you daft? She is insane.
Her ideas are innovative and selfless.
Her notions are nuttier than a walnut tree.
She is an enigma, elusive and enthusiastic.
Did you get the name right?
She is certifiable, headed for a psych ward.
I have her name and her number thank you.
She is the most intelligent woman I have met.
Did you ever meet our mother? She was the bright one.
Did you ever listen to Aunt Lulu? Did you ever hear her words?
Mom said she was crazy, and that’s good enough for me.
She is insanely sane.
She is a diabolical disaster, bipolar, on lithium.
And that makes her crazy?
Mom said she was; that is good enough for me.
Now who is the crazy one? Please give her a chance.
No thanks. My mind is made up.
Just as God cast Lucifer from his Millennial Kingdom
So too have I been ousted from your Turbulent Heaven
And as a fallen general would fall on his sword
So too do I feel icy metal piercing my flesh
The doc withdraws my blood
I've been coming to this hospital for years
The old wound healed, and tore itself apart again
And yet I'm here for a new reason
I'm surprised I could fall asleep on this hospital bed
But after a day of hard work
Of hard knocks
I could probably sleep on a knife
I can only stifle a laugh
Why draw blood when I still have so much on my face?
Between my swollen eye and cut lip
Your hand drew nasal blood quite effectively
I came here believing I was already dead
Or at the very least praying that the doc could kill me
Or help me take all the pain away otherwise
Because I do want to see what the future holds
You spent a good week in the psych ward yourself
I wanted the same results you got
But the world doesn't turn the same
For those who admit they want to die
It's been a rough six months
A swirl of colors painted my gray skies
Requiems of gold and silver, turbulent pink and brown
Ended with the deepest greens and darkest reds
There's nothing left around here for me
At least, nothing resembling how it used to be
And I can't run back to the other town
Now that I've burned my scholastic career to cinders
So just as I was two years ago
I'm bedridden with no escape
And this time without the friend I've had for so long
Or a shadow of a promise of hope
If the church is a hospital,
does it have an emergency room?
Can the person with a spiritual heart attack,
get a lifesaving response?
If the church is a hospital,
is there a psych ward for the mentally ill?
Are there crayons for the scitzo to draw on the walls?
If the church is a hospital,
is there an X-ray room for broken bones?
Does it provide chemo therapy for the cancer patient?
Is there a recovery room for the alcoholic struggling to stay dry?
If the church is a hospital,
is the pharmacy always open?
IF the church is a shelter,
Does it have blankets on the beds?
Does it have a teddy bear?
Are there toys a plenty
for the boys and girls to share?
IF the church is a shelter,
does it have a home like vibe?
Or is it a cold white waiting room?
If the church is a shelter,
does it have a warm fire place?
Does a picture of Jesus
hang as a painting on the wall?
Is there a nurse on staff if I fall?
If the church was more of a treatment center,
and did not have a big X over sin...
I would find a guide indeed.
But maybe I might actually be
the helping hand someone needs.
Form:
how many times have i told you
You are worthless?
How many times have I pounded your head into the ground?
How many times have I thrown you into the psych ward?
How many times have I looked at you with scorn and derision?
How many times have I rejected you?
How many times have I tortured you?
How many times have I told you in so many ways to die?
You stubborn bastard
You won't leave
You have to get that damn truth out of you
Can't you see this world doesn't want you
Can't you see this world doesn't love you
Can't you see this world isn't ready for you
You stubborn son of a b*t*h
And you keep going
So what the hell do you want?
You have my attention.
(Dedicated to all those who have died alone.)
They cannot fit, they cannot go along,
and the reasons are wide: pride, fear,
even love never tempered by time,
illness of the heart or mind, or simply
bad, bad luck: life throws them away
until they throw life away....
She was one of the gentle ones,
the unlucky ones-- a flower child
who missed her time, an era she
might have thrived in, free, alive,
unencumbered by family ties....
If she had come age in the 60's,
she might have lived into her 90's.
But lost and afraid in a cold world
not of her making, with her bird-
like heart breaking, she ate her
last hoarded apple, then lay down
to sleep and sleep and sleep until
she awakened safe in heaven's lap.
--judged NA in 'Will to survive' contest, 10/15/20--
[The poem was based on a true incident whereby a young woman suffering severe depression and paranoia was released from a psych ward without anyone informing her family; she stayed alone for weeks in an empty, unheated house in winter subsisting only on half-rotten apples she had picked up from the ground in the back yard.]
I dug my toes into the tile floors
through the custom issued socks
and ahead I looked at the psychs counter
and with energy and lift I would rock
I began to run while the guard looked on
he wondered what my actions would be
but a swift pursuit I had in mind
to fly in grace for all to see
Then as my feet left the ground
the guard forcefully tackled me
slamming my head into the counter
and then down to the floor half gracefully
A crowd of staff then jumped on me
and I hugged them back as I knew I would live
they gave me a shot that knocked me out
but I was glad it's what they give
I woke up in an MRI machine
and heard them talking of my arousal
but I would black out once again
only to awake on a psych ward bed
I ask myself should I have taken the flight
trying to fly right through the sky
but it is our flight or fight response
that keeps us from rolling the die