Long Psychosis Poems
Long Psychosis Poems. Below are the most popular long Psychosis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psychosis poems by poem length and keyword.
I search in vain
for some incantation I can invoke
to leverage my psychosis into a semblance of sanity.
The illusion, like my delusional sense of purpose,
has lost its appeal.
On the bevel of a moonbeam’s edge -
derelict of enchantment,
perceptions distort thoughts sliding on a fragment of reality,
contorting the cosmos of my mind like a maze of fun house mirrors,
leaving me teetering on the splintered brink of a sinkhole
without a resolution.
Susan Ashley
June 5, 2019
~ Tenth Place ~
Premiere Contest: Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*required words: psychosis, leverage, fragment, bevel,
derelict, resolution, sinkhole, illusion*
I OPENED A DOOR
TO THE NEXT WORLD WHERE
A FEW CONTROLLED
THE REST DIDN'T CARE.
SUSPICIOUS LIKE THOUGHTS
SURROUNDED MY BEING.
AS IF TO ASK
WHAT AM I SEEING?
THOUGHTS AND EYES
FOLLOWED ALONG.
AS IF I JUST MIGHT
DISCOVER WHAT'S WRONG..
THEN SUBTLY THE FEW
STARTED MAKING A MOVE.
AS IF THEY ALL,
HAD SOMETHING TO PROVE.
THEY SUGGEST I SUBMIT
DROP TO MY KNEES.
DO AS THEY SAY
NOT AS I PLEASE.
RESISTANCE WAS FUTILE.
BUT I DIDN'T CARE..
I UNLEASHED MY THOUGHTS
AND MADE THEM AWARE
BEING IS THOUGHT
THOUGHTS ARE BEING.
IMAGINATION
IS WHAT YOU ARE SEEING.
WHEN IMAGINATION
IS OUT OF CONTROL.
PSYCHOSIS APPEARS
IN THE EYES OF, WHO KNOWS.
JUST LIKE THE UNIVERSE.
OUR IMAGINATION EXPANDS.
UNTILL YOU ENCOUNTER
THOSE WHO REFUSE YOUR DEMANDS.
IT ALTERS ONES BEING.
IT CHANGES ONES THOUGHTS.
IT GOES AGAINST TIME AND
ALL WE WERE TAUGHT.
CONTROL OVER ME
WOULD BE MENTALLY INSANE.
THAT'S WHY PSYCHOPATHS
ARE CONSIDERED INANE.
AS WE TRAVEL THROUGH TIME
WE SEEK UNDERSTANDING.
IN A WAY CURIOSITY
IS ALSO DEMANDING.
I OPENED A DOOR.
I CAN EXIT THE SAME.
GIVING THANKS TO BEING
AND BEING EXPLAINED.
Michael E. Harris
11262021
Below the gray blah canopy
Suffering from bad attitude
and seasonal psychosis
The human race sprints
No finish line required
and Everyone wins gold
Music blaring
Bikini tops daring
Exposed guts not caring
Rooftop gogo dancer staring
At me
Ok, maybe that's vice versa
Its a poolside, post-graduate MTV Spring Break
Some of us much more "post" than others
The glaze and haze of Vegas
Sprawling in the manner built for Caesar
Decadence is the Neighborhood Watch
Where every citizen is
On patrol
On Patron
All far gone
Judgment
By them or ourselves
Left town for lent
Or excommunicated at the stake
Where loungers and readers
And tricksters and treaters
are one
Tighter than conjoined twins
playing with crazy glue in Texas heat
And the ways that used to be
And the ways we wish there were
And the ways we can rent by glass
Are included in the price of admission
Guilt not included
As everyone drops their towels
Hoping for someone to pick them up.
(9/7/13)
Is depression a band playing?
Always jeering at my brightest sets
Blows off the smallest bow leaving me a husk
Depression cat calls behind the veil
Dark days alone with my ever-present God
Hopelessly kneeling to my sad nature
A dead mane of a palm tree stripped by squalls
My rot rooted by reality's check ever on stage
Pop Seroquel to quell me to sleep
Teach me patience in this depression
Teach me the meaning of petite mort
Keep me practicing dying on stage
If not for love's tethers I would gladly exit
To my ancestors behind the ol’back stage
With my relations in line to come to Jesus
Barred by chemical prescriptions
Pop lithium and lamictal to unite polarities
Lurasidone to sway my psychosis to tunes
Trazodone for slaying me to sleep
This time I'll stay adherent and penitent
Drugs are courage buoying stage fright
Chemical messengers knitting neurons
Exposing me to paper cuts from the crowd
Shrouding mania with suppressed dopamine
Sadness in the background overwhelms me
Remember dust to stardust gravely falling
Those dark days twisting without love
Sex and drugs are cheap distractions
Cigarettes just crutches in the limelight
Without drink and weed on center stage
I want to go back-stage when love recedes
Then I would not feel my heart racing
Keep me above ground as life grinds on
The accretion of well-intentioned lies
Another day another poem
Like broken records on repeat
Veils of depression weighty as curtains
Knowing doesn’t tear the thread of identity
When I cross the veil, leave it all behind
But, it's not time to go back-stage
If not for love I would cut Fate’s twine
Stay alive long enough without disguises
Endure hours naked under the spotlight
Hold moments of joy without expectations
Confetti dismissed by peppered depression
Killing time while crooning cruelly alone
Waiting impatiently for the curtain call
Depression waiting back-stage as usual
We quarreled to bitter, burning degrees
(you)loving me
as a tender trespasser
a chew toy
boy
demanding compliance
forced feedings
down
to sock selection
(your)conspicuous usage of chlorine
blistering eyes
a woman my mother may have idolized
(your)disciplined hemlines
entirely circumspect
subtracting the abusements
how (your)words struck, in the rage of an enemy fire
and less, the undisturbed lust after hog's feet
I was heading for America
a better sow to plow
with spangly blue eyes
and ruddy virtue brimming inside her countenance
out of the despicable cold,
The harpy's fury
(you)poked at my shortness
magnified my retardations
I was a crouching slug in (your)supercilious shadows
Understanding I couldn't swim
as all the world knows
any banal fact
for example, water is wet
and a million times (your)augur's ball
pronounced death by sea
little legs shall not be inclined to desert the scalding Egyptian sands
was it (your)psychosis or mine ... doubts dressed as destiny?
I missed the exodus of the unsinkable ship.
The Titanic horn tolled whilst she distanced,
the mocking tintinnabulation
of elegiac bells.
Wake Me Softly
~~~~~~~~~~~
waking in a dream
again and again
discarding the shell of what was
for a figment of what is
distant vista eagerly awaited
the naked truth, dearly dreaded
show me not what is real
show me what could be
when you are a dreamer
you just never know
imaginary dreamscapes
fantastic lucidity of delusion
prestigious fortune of grit
when blood, sweat, and tears
and mere passion
not only fall short but
they will never be enough
blind faith in the gamble
my hand is strong
but one shy of flush
a bell pierced the haze
in my wake all that I see
is the awkward silence in between
a furrowed brow and dirty fingernails
the mind it boggles
that when the ground floor hits
I've fallen asleep
5 more minutes
then wake me softly
With this psychosis, faces wear dark, angry stares,
and all at once, chills travel up and down my spine.
Transfixed, immobile, their stark leverage declares-
from fragment of my mind- that they had crossed life's line.
Those bevel faces, I do recognize from past;
an EMT, back then, I watched them pronounced dead.
But now a derelict- I feel confused, harassed,
by these strange visions that appear outside my head.
They point their fingers at me, and I know not why.
I feel accused somehow, as I fall to the floor
and shut my eyes- no resolution- they defy
to go away, for when they open, I see more.
Oh God, this horrid sinkhole sucks me in with ease-
trapped by each illusion- damned Parkinson's disease!
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: Eight Word Challenge
Sponsor: Kai Michael Newmann
Words to use: psychosis leverage fragment bevel
derelict resolution sinkhole illusion
Fictional write in the first person for this contest - but based on the true
hallucinations of a family member with Parkinson's disease. With this disease- psychosis and visual hallucinations are the most common other than motor problems.
(Revision of a former poem posted in 2018)
Trudge home
All alone
Can’t condone
What I feel inside
Can’t abide
What constitutes
My whole
My soul
My hope for
What is to come
What is to some
Their whole life
An allergy
An allegory
Of their whole existence
Their whole subsistence
In the long drawn-
Out years
Rolled out in front
Of you.
Dispensed
In time
A specious crime
Tempted to make
Tempted to sate
Your long lost dreams
That have been
Lent out
To someone new
To someone younger
Than you
And you are left
Empty
Left plenty
Of something?
Nothing
No excitement
No enticement
To that glistening,
Mist revealing path
No mirror reflection
Of your past
That blasted
And opened your eyes
To the addictions
To the fiction
In their bodies,
The illnesses
Created by God
As a folly
To our greed,
As a folly
To their seed
That created
A new psychosis
Ripping through
Bulldozing anything true
The crimes of insanity
Crimes of humanity:
Rapes, murder, assault
.
These are the genes
I wear
That have
Teared
Through my heart
Left at its core
A lust
For stardom
For brilliance
To save the world
To help wrap-up
Those curled-
Up within their
Beaten bodies
To help those
Whose
Luck turned
Inside out
Had cast a doubt
All this
Was my destiny
My reason
For being
For seeing
All the past
Destruction
Past obstruction
To happy
Functioning
Lives
But the poison
Has caught up
Within my brain
And drained
All the energy
Away
Paying
For the transparent
Sins of my past.
In my dark
Hooded cloak,
Soaked
Through
To my
Weary bones
Feet scraping
Across
The ground,
I trudge home.
SHAME ON YOU ALAN ACTUALLY DRAGGING A HEROIN ADDICTED ADDICTED TO FENTYN FROM A PSCHIATRIC MENTAL INSTITUTION IN TENNESSEE HOMELSS SLEEPING AT THE BUS STATIONS FROM ALABAMA TO TENNESSEE TO CHICAGO FOR YOUR ILL GOTTEN GAINS LEADING HER TO BELIEVE SHES ACTUALLY HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH AN FBI AGENT AFTER CONTACTING JOE BIDEN IN A PARINOID STATE WHY WOULD JOE BIDEN TOY WITH A HEROIN ADDICT UNDER SPECIAL AGENT ALAN KING SPECIAL AGENT PAULA BRAND ARLINGTON HEIGHTS BREACH MERGING WITH MY IDENTITY THIEF PERPUTRATING FRAUD UPON ME PLOTTING MY ASSASINATION IN TAMPA WITH JAMAICAN DRUG LORDS BY GODS GRACE KILLED AT MY FEET MY DESPERATE PLEA MY ABUSE EX JAMAICAN CARTEL FEMALES SMUGGLED THE DEAD MANS STASH OF DRUGS TO WISCONSIN WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND WHO BRUTALLY ATTACKED HIS ENTIRE FAMILY CHRISTMAS EVE AFTER I REPORTED HIS ABUSE HIS DRUG OPERATION HE TRIED TO BREAK MY ARM WHILE SUPPORTING THESE JAMAICAN FEMALE TALIBAN IDENTITY THIEVES SEATED WITH SPECIAL AGENT PAULA BRAND SPECIAL AGENT ALAN KING FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION ARLINGTON HEIGHTS ACTUALLY LURING A HEROIN ADDICT TO ASSIST WITH THE IDENTITY FRAUD UPON MY SPACE WITH THE HELP OF BIDENS TEAM REACHING OUT TO A HEROIN ADDICT FENTANYL USER MAXING HER OWN CREDIT CARDS WHAT A TWISTED HORROR ALAN SHAME ON YOU I AM REMINDED SEPTEMBER 6TH 1989 WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING DRUGS FROM CORRUPTION MY ABUSE EX DECIDED TO TAKE HIS WORK HOME SHARING IT WITH MY SISTER AS I PACKED FIR THE RELOCATION THE DRUGS WAS SO POWERFUL SHE SNAPPED TRIED TO STAB HER OWN 7 YEAR OLD NIECE WITH A SCHOOL SUPPLY SHARP COMPASS SHE RAN DOWN THE STREET NAKED SHE WAS ADMITTED TO HOLY CROSS HOSPITAL SEVERE PSYCHOSIS TODAY SHE'S STILL PSYCHOSIS COMMUNICATING WITH JOE BIDEN AND CORRUPT AGENTS THAT DRAGGED HER FROM HER MENTAL HEALTHCARE TARGETING HER ON 83 YEAR OLD MOTHER ORDER TO CONTINUE IDENTITY FRAUD UPON FBI INFORMANTS SHAME ON YOU SPECIAL AGENT ALAN KING GOD BLESS AMERICA
I’ve brewed so many potions still you are
I’ve made elixirs from hydrogen to quiet you
Nothing I do is a cure for my lonesome electron
We all have a voice spinning around in our heads
Are yours as loud as a hungry child unquelled?
Are yours like a steel fork dragging on glass?
Silhouettes of thoughts ready to gnash
You are resistant to my entreaties to stop
Noises should retreat to the background
Mine craves the foreground with monster wails
My voice hates crowds and pounces when alone
I am a captive company trashing our home
No amount of lithium will quiet your voice
No lurasidone will quiet your psychosis
Till death do us part we thrashing for release
There was a time when you and I were one
Somewhere in my youth, your evil entered me
You were thrown into the closet with my childhood
Now I’m old the hinges have rusted
The locked door has been clawed to death
I feel your evil talons gnashing a way out
As a scarred door portends, we want freedom
Do I bring out my whip or feed you treats?
Do I show Heisenberg’s theory of uncertainty?
When my spirit is low, it welcomes me home
I welcome evil, but the tiger invites me in
It asks me to enter, but I open an empty sack
Evil comes like a kitten to its father and enters
It calls itself Pygmalion asking me to loosen up
I teach it English, but it drills in me monster speak
I teach it how to use forks and spoons
It shows me how much pitchforks hurt
Thank you for being my test subject
It’s my life’s work to say thanks with sincerity
An education with graduation day out of reach
It’s my life’s work to enter the closet with a tiger
The way out is in without a care of consumption
As it feeds my body daily, I will teach satiety
May it teach me to no longer fear hunger
The potion I longed for was myself