Long Psychological Poems
Long Psychological Poems. Below are the most popular long Psychological by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psychological poems by poem length and keyword.
Why do you come now?
Why do you besiege me
with your fowl unholy presents?
You are the Prince of Darkness,
the keeper of tormented souls,
you are Satan himself are you not?
Oh call me what you wish!
History has seen fit to adorn me
with many provocative names
and I detest each one of them.
For they perpetuate the myth
that every bit of the world's evil
springs directly from my loins.
Why do you come now?
Why do you torment me?.
I have been a great man of God.
I spread his word with relentless zeal
wielding the sword of righteousness
toward all I deemed evil and wicked.
Why I have come to take you home.
You have been a fantastic disciple.
Few have served our cause better.
You have made the worst sins
tolerable to the great masses.
Cloaking evil under Godly robes
was a masterful work of genius.
No! No! This cannot be?
God has spoken through me.
I have been his earthly conduit.
I am one of God's chosen people.
I devoutly followed his teachings
and actively preached his word.
You perverted God's so called revealed word
into a twisted rendition of your own creation.
You stoked the fears of the ignorant into a inferno
and reaped all you could from the true believers.
You have spawned a most delicious type of hatred.
One that will continue to bear fruit for years to come.
Evil has many faces, but none more hideously vile
than those who hide behind the curtain of religion.
How is it that you know it?
A spark, a flash, a sudden thought,
Is it that you know how?
In the silence, wisdom links ought.
Know you how it is that?
You know it is that how?
That is how you knew it!
When was it that you knew it?
A moment caught in time's swift motion,
Was it that you knew when?
Beneath the moon's pale watchful ocean.
It was that you knew when?
You knew it was that when?
That was when you knew it!
Where was it when you learned it?
In spaces where the wild winds swirl,
When was it you learned where?
Amidst the fields where knowledge gnarl.
It was when you learned where?
Was it when you learned where?
You learned it when was where!
Why is it that you learned what?
For reasons that the heart may beat,
What is it that you learned why?
Where streams of deep reflection create.
Is it why you learned what?
Learned what is it why you?
You learned why it is what!
Who wrote it and why it was that?
A scribe whose pen does gently row,
Wrote it who and why was that?
Across the sea of thought they scroll.
Why it was that and who wrote it?
It who wrote and why was that?
It was who that wrote it and why?
And why was it that who wrote it!
But in the end, does knowing change the fact?
Though afflicted with severe
panic/anxiety attacks
suffering became manifest destiny
for decades housed née sequestered
in abominable barracks
(one common joe biden his time)
made debut during prepubescence,
ambivalent toward and quite lax
concerning mien kampf,
when adolescent/puberty at max
metamorphosis from boy
to man found me strongly in pax
averse to growing up
Anorexia Nervosa latched did tax
developmental height and weight,
whence this grown male did wax
nostalgic for his boyhood-
literally starved himself -
not quite to death,
or unconditional self-acceptance by peers.
Mine psyche felt ship
wrecked upon the jagged shoal
of abject apathy, self-injury,
and jury-rigged penury now a pall
duh, these psychological idiosyncrasies
perfect breeding ground to maul
and rent asunder psychic ground
for lack of pride slinking along hall
ways resonating with flapping wings,
his doppelganger exhibited gall
wherein yours truly remained
face down from a major fall
when both parents alive
(thine mum deceased
almost eighteen plus years,
when grim reaper didst call
now octogenarian widower pop,
who since this initial writing
passed away about
sixteen months ago)
espied sense to bawl
upon death ova
me mum, and sensibility
evinced inquisitive kindled
linked opportunistic quest
misunderstanding, avoiding
whirled wide web
as a young whippersnapper -
wait, that iz not awl.
Inform me if you wanna explore
additional tidbits glore
cuz long poem comprises more
lines offering metaphorical tour
within me body electric
akin to teenage wasteland
after internal near deadly war.
it’s the mission of our lifetime
to learn to balance heart and mind
to recognize and be grateful
for our numerous blessings
as we covet lofty dreams
in our heart we want to nurture gratitude
and be satisfied with our lot in life
yet aim to stretch beyond our aspirations
we seek to be happy with what we have
but in our mind give utmost efforts
to surpass our limitations
whatever our struggles
cultivate harmony
as we aim to live in the moment
be joyful in the now
come what may tomorrow
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~MINDFULLY~ 2021
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on March 12, 2021 for contest INNER ALIGNMENT sponsored by UNSEEKING SEEKER - RANKED 6TH
"I'm hearing images, I'm seeing songs no poet has ever painted
Voices call out to me, straight to my heart"
Cold, emotionless, and her nature, defiant
Hard to connect with as well as unreliant
A boarding school for outcasts such as Wednesday
Revenge for brother, brings on her sinister way
Dysfunctional families—ivory towers make wagers
Enrolled are lost souls and morbid teenagers
Like Arkham Asylum, a long and brutal history
Medieval mayhem come to life again in her story
Nevermore Island, Romania’s Nevermore Academy
Unconventional practices become their enemy
Designed for students with extreme personalities
Who don’t think their practices convey abnormalities
Is an all American coming-of-age supernatural
Tangled in spider silk or it’s web, which is factual?
And there it is the unscrupulous psycho-therapist
A principal’s shapeshifter and her sorceress rapist
Forcing thoughts back into some semblance of order
Werewolves, vampires, gorgons, and sirens who boarder
Are the architectural texts with applications ubiquitous
And the requisite archaic desperate mass exodus
Dark long tresses, paints it black in gothic dresses
Many who are romantic interests she addresses
Rises to an ovation with a most clever shadow dance
Sanity, reason, balance, rationality, and much arrogance
Behind the smiling facade of normality where lie derelicts
There lurks a psychopathic serial killer, and other convicts
Beyond their control, declined their world of decadence
Insanity, lunacy, madness, the outcasts show no evidence
Highly severe psychological and physical illnesses?
Or real paranormal abominations and alien devises
Guiding her are messages from the beyond with passion
Her lecture combined intellectual lucidity and compassion
Body long gone
In a tomb on the hill side
Body long gone
In a tomb in the afterlife
Still a prison in afterlife
If you're living in fear
But the body's too dear
When you want to see clear
Relax to divine the hidden meaning
When you're head's on the stake
But your mind is awake
Sure you've made some mistakes
Relax you'll be fine
If it's all you can take
That your psyche might break
When you want to escape
Relax to divine the hidden meaning
But the world isn't there
It's the soul that we share
We feel lighter than air
Where God created life
There life must be*
*T-23.II.19:2
Form:
Quote: “To fathom hell, or soar angelic, just take a pinch of psychedelic” -- H. Osmond
In the realm of metaphors, where words take flight,
A kaleidoscope of colors, a psychedelic delight.
Like whispers of dreams, they dance and sway,
Unveiling the depths of emotions in their own unique way.
In groovy swirls, the hippie spirit flies,
Beneath the neon moon and starlit skies.
With tie-dyed shirts and flowers in our hair,
We journey through a world beyond compare.
Our culture pulses with a rhythm rare,
A tapestry of love, beyond compare.
Each stroke of brush, a message to impart,
A fusion of the soul and of the heart.
Metaphors, like magic, paint pictures in the mind,
Creating illusions, where truths and fantasies entwined.
They bridge the gap between the known and unknown,
Inviting us to explore a world uniquely our own.
A metaphor is a key that unlocks hidden doors,
Revealing truths that lie beneath the surface, forevermore.
It's a mirror that reflects the soul's deepest desires,
Igniting passions and setting hearts on fire.
Like a gentle breeze that caresses our skin,
Metaphors embrace us, inviting us to dive in.
They whisper secrets, only the heart can understand,
Guiding us through the maze of life, hand in hand.
What cooperates internal resonance
and external resilience?
Political trust
and economic acts
of love?
Firmness of trust
and love's cooperative force?
Why do we settle for ambiguously competing energies
when the democratic trust we seek together
might be more robustly loved
as cooperative inter-religious synergy?
When did specialized researchers
settle for dissociated complexity
as our paradigmatic road toward comprehension
of our anthropologically wealthy selves?
out and in
of and for
Earth's ecologically healthy
organically loving
polyculturally robust
trust environment?
We both want and need better internal cooperative views
of recombining regenesis,
cognitive transliterations for/of intuitive transmutations
Not with freedom to become any dis-ecological
irreligious manscape at all
Not with Anthropocene nationalistic landscapes
of overpopulated rabidity
addicted to dominating anthropocentric competitions
Not with monotheistically justified insurrections
against panentheistic peace
Not desecrating nationalistic cancers
overpowering otherwise cooperatively designing organic functions
All reconnecting within Earth's multiculturing
polypathic love story
of metamorphic satyagraha
Trusting Lovelock's Gaia Hypothesis
reaffirming deeply religious pronoia truths
of forcefully comprehensive
democratically inclusive
economic investment in trust
empowering AnthroMind/EarthBody
cobinary co-arising love.
Not anthropocentrically exclusive
economically infested win/lose
distrust disempowering love's resistance
to rabidly paranoid unease.
Not all that organically complex
as heard and seen and smelled and tasted from inside
life's therapeutic opportunities for feeling health
and ecological trust
we can, together,
discontinue kleptocratic crimes
against Earth's wealthy satyagraha climate
ReLigiously recombining internal
0-soul trusting resonance
and external
1-zone Earth-loving resilience.
Toward Material Trappings
Gold and silver upholds
true value capitalist money tree
Thrown down upon gaunt
lit alter of Midas,
treasured as current sea
Countless denominations
cashiered legal tender to grant
Rich Midas, who straddles
diamond compound,
billed as sacred Kant
Tickles with dollar signs
motley foolish crue scrambling
towards drawbridge gate
Pedestrians malingering
hungry thirst
for wealth of nations to satiate
Inexorable appetite
for wanton money to amass
Fuels reverence
all that glitters even brass
Whence madding crowd
behaviour cruel and crass
Deplorable if perceived
from one-way looking glass
Fool hardiness to revere
what beast called money,
lucre, and green back
Can buy - sweeping across
World Wide Web
scarring globe on fast track
Toward accumulating
high excess lavish life harried style
parade with pomp
and swiftly tailored circumstances while
Ninety nine percent
of less wealthy live hand to mouth
Envying those billeted
behind sealed mansions
east, west, north and south
Except this dollar less chap,
who could not give a rat’s tush
For ka-ching melodic sound
twenty four seven that does swoosh
In burlap sack clothes
and bank accounts preferring
to slog and push
Along boulevard of broken dreams
that resembles nothing but mush
Yet preference prevails
foregoing attachment
to government sanctioned loot
Freeing mind and body trying
to cherish voluntary simplicity,
which does suit
This quest for knowledge seeking writer,
who disparages
tooting his own horn
Nor imposing personal philosophy
that gives reason exuberantly to exhale
Versus vacuity and purposelessness
sans, blind faith toward Holy Grail
Goading most people to persevere
for millions of bucks over hill and dale
Despite owning next to nothing,
yet detaching psychological
bond that doth choke
Ability to experience unfettered psyche
likened to oxen iron bound yoke!
Peace is not a final state
Peace is not a promised land
Peace is a direction
a discipline
a daily
refusal of hate
The sociopath exists
The sadist masks up
The profiteer of suffering
lives next door
The work of peace is not to erase evil
but to build systems strong enough
to contain it
detect it
dismantle it
before it metastasizes
through tissue
Justice is not peace's opposite
it is its prerequisite
The trafficker must be stopped
The abuser must face consequences
The war criminal must be held to account
Peace without justice is not peace
it is surrender
painted flat
Yet justice alone is not enough
Walls crack like old craniums
Locks break like crystal goblets
Surveillance falters like failing hearts
Evil seeps through the smallest crevice
Because evil is not only in men
it lives in systems
in cultures
in the poisoned soil
of neglect
Carl Jung warned us
"The world hangs on a thin thread
and that thread is the psyche of man"
The shooter was once a boy
isolated like an island
radicalized like a slow toxic poison
armed like a walking war machine
The gang member was once a child
who saw violence as his only shield
against a world that showed him
nothing but
its teeth
The abuser was once abused
The soldier was trained to dehumanize
This does not excuse
it explains
Explanation is the first algorithm
toward prevention
before the next boy becomes a bullet
before the next scream is normalized
I have seen what peace without justice becomes
I have sat with its aftermath
I have listened to its brokenness
and it does not heal
it waits
to repeat