Long Psychotic Poems
Long Psychotic Poems. Below are the most popular long Psychotic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Psychotic poems by poem length and keyword.
to love and be loved,
two sides upon the same coin,
to have a dalliance with life.
mother grows roses with thorns that pierce,
father controls the darkness of day,
a duo in which to divulge my thoughts.
I am a merry man with unshown madness,
a soft spoken psychotic sweetheart,
to be and also to see from the world around my body.
a great room, men are monotonous,
a drop in a glass shatters silence,
there is never an easy way out of normality.
I crave dismemberment from the hand almighty,
to decease and also desire contentment,
a dance with death, a waltz with wonder.
he plucks me from a field of forget-me-nots,
to see me from afar is a blessing in disguise,
I'll burn your eyes, blind you from the murder of the world.
an ending in embers, a phoenix risen from ash,
afresh departure, train station to hereafter.
goodbye and goodnight.
My beloved poet - a Victorian bard,
who took my breath away with his fascinating works,
when as a teenager I fell in love with poetry,
romantic and passionate.
a poet from Victorian era
who hypnotized me
with a very different kind of gripping poetry -
dramatic, subtle, philosophical, and metaphysical,
an exploration in the complex and turbulent minds!
I admired the story of a captivating Duchess who was gone,
but smiled an intriguing smile from a portrait -
envied forever by her resentful husband!
a dark side of mysterious love for Porphyria,
a stunningly beautiful woman, purely in love,
shockingly strangled by her psychotic lover,
who after this heinous act,
asks for forgiveness from merciful God!
and I got completely carried away by the way,
using plain children's vocabulary,
the outstanding poet narrated the powerful legend of a Piper,
who using his magically bewitching pipe,
took revenge on the deceiving townfolks -
who didn't keep their promises.
dramatic monologue -
the creative form of psychological portraiture
I fell in love with, along with the creator -
Robert Browning!
January 18, 2023
Inspired by "My Beloved Poet" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina Macintosh
My having a fantasy of women in threes cannot totally be blamed on me
To find the start of this lust in my heart you have to begin with my TV.
Each show began as the theme song they sang with three girls bathing in a tower
My eyes grew wide and the fantasy inside continued blooming for half an hour.
Most reading my story are too young for the glory to share in this compunction
Of falling aghast of three sisters in a bath who came from Petticoat Junction.
There was Betty-Jo and Bobbie-Jo and Billy-Jo, too, three prettier girls I never knew
And every week I wanted to take a peek as the Cannonball Express rolled on through.
I never could guess which –Jo I liked best and so I desired all three
Now I’m psychotic and often hypnotic with thoughts of a ménage-a-trios and me.
So, what the heck, I mean no disrespect when I meet a pretty, wholesome girl
And walk up to the same, introduce my name and ask if she comes from Hooterville.
(Part Two)
Each following generation, almost inevitably, are stuck in the same cycle.
Centuries enslaved, the product of a totalitarian government.
Delivering an impeccable system of social mind control.
succeeding almost flawless in their subliminal and cruel tactics.
Mankind the perfect subject for an unchallenged subjugation and control.
At least Hitler was clear with his plans for Germany and its people.
Our modern government deals in deception and complete lies.
Each year, they deliver millions of new perfectly trained slaves.
Trained in, and put to work doing minor and mindless tasks.
The objective to distract their minds long enough to avoid questioning.
Working them around the clock, almost straight through every year of life
allowing two weeks of vacation, for a year of unquestioned servitude
long enough to placate their desires, but too short to expose real freedom.
anything longer might risk exposing the truth hidden behind a blanket of lies
If they knew the true joy of life, an uprising would undoubtedly ensue.
So who is truly deranged, the individual described as "Psychotic?"
For choosing to express his identity, and denying to conform.
Taking the time to actually enjoy his life, and exercise his freedom
Or, the "normal" members of society, our governments good little drones.
Dying in our governments wars, fought to gain more wealth and control
Working and wasting their entire lives for the benefit of a rich few
The only real question that remains is: Who do you serve?
Kindness does not cost a penny- it is free for all,
to be considerate and kind is not that hard to do;
some would consider me weak, consider this a flaw,
perhaps I am deranged, unhinged, crazy, insane.
To show kindness is not a weakness- it is strength,
or am I mentally unbalanced and totally confused;
maybe I am psychotic to even think that anyone cares,
I must be unglued, unhinged to give it away freely.
But in the end- I must be true to me and my values,
so kindness and consideration I will give away freely;
and should I get it back that is a wonderful thing indeed,
more often it is all a one way street with not return address.
Still, I will never, ever stop being me . . .
_____________________________
August 28, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Kindness Unhinged
Copyright Protected, ID 16-823-847-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Dream Date – Perfect Woman - Didactic
I like a woman with a pulse
Not too strong though
Competition frightens me
She should come from parents, (maybe two)
Not hatched from an egg
Skin of seasoned leather with cratered face
If her leg is missing, left or right, that’s ok
As long as she has one to hop away
Crime should always be on her mind
Stealing wallets and purses makes her perfect
I don’t like to work so there must be a career girl lurking
The perfect woman carries her own paper bags
For her face while making love and robbing banks
I want a girl who comes with her own card board box for two
A place that we call home
If she is psychotic that’s fine too
A girl with stinky feet and monster tattoos will do
And takes a butcher knife to bed when day is done
I like adventure
11/21/14 "Didactic Poem" Poetry Contest
Disillusioned
She remembers her childhood.
The thrill and new penny feeling of being outside when the sun has set! When shadows drew shadows that grew shadows.
The intoxicating sense that she wasn't being a “good girl”, that she was doing something forbidden. A feeling only, she had no words to define this.
All things were alive and friendly, all things and all people loved her. Never had she known low morals, harsh judgements, base emotions.
Why, an eight or nine foot tall mouse with a silly name and gloves was exciting and fun! Something she laughed at and clapped her hands with joy! A super friend she could play with…
…not a terrifying diseased rodent, protecting itself from fingerprint analysis, with idiot, inbred eyes and needle- sharp teeth hungry for her blood!
No, to her child eyes, her still under warranty, blue eyes, the crescent moon was a smile on the friendly face of the night sky. The two brightest stars, the eyes, that look at her with approval and decency.
A Montage of calendar pages rip away and float off screen …
…and we watch as the young blue eyes subtly change. They slowly lose focus and begin to look past us into the distant past, the soon to be future? Who knows.
She remembers her childhood.
When she believed no one meant her any harm. When she trusted that the dark night face of the sky, the crescent moon, was a smile. Looking down on her with love.Now…
...Now…
That bright crescent moon looks like a sneer. A sneer on the face of the demented, psychotic sky…
…leering at her.
LEERING. At. Her.
American Psychosis
The sun, the Son,
ECLIPSED
Overshadowed by
Dark clouds of
Bloated EGO and ID
Me supersedes We
The people1
Will weep
DEADLY SINS
More than seven
In one
Narcissist ‘king’ of
WRATH, HATE, REVENGE,
Not a
‘Dish best served cold2
But with anger
Evil so bold
SCOTUS behold!
Bunker-Busting Bully
Historical ignorance, ignominy
Big Beautiful Bombs or
Tariffs Coercion
Psychotic projection
Weaponized state
Now fully effected
No critic is safe
LUST
When you’re a celebrity
You can do anything
Predatory
You want
Assault, murder, rape,
Cheat, steal, defraud
LIES
Free speech
IF you’re with us
‘Fake news’
If you’re not
We have
‘alternative facts’
GLUTTONY and GREED
Never satisfied with
What you have
Never enough!
Never enough!
IDOLATRY
Genuflection
To the ‘Golden Calf’3
Crown of Orange
No thorns4
Nor Pain
LAZINESS, SLOTH
Reap rewards from
Work of the plebes
Let them eat cake5
Simple living, no steak
Accountability – None
ENVY
Look up to look down
The billionaires ladder
The one I will climb
Not Jacob’s sublime6
But the movie
On the horrors of war7
PRIDE and VANITY
Peers, I can tolerate
But
I am the best
Losers and suckers
Make up the rest
OK to call on them
To squelch the unrest
Parade
Honors ‘Dear Leader’
Who dishonors
Misuses the troops
MAGA, sycophants,
And Nazi salutes
No impulse control
Chaos, Disunity, Autocracy
Unreined
Breaking Bad8
RESISTANCE
Inevitable
‘No Kings’
In ‘our land’
Despite fear of
The worst
Assassinations, arrests
Uncivil will be
Armed
‘There will be Blood’9
On the streets
Where chaos will
Reign
Unless it be tamed
1 Preamble to the U.S. Constitution
2 Joseph Stalin
3 Exodus 32
4 New Testament Gospels
5 Dubious attribution to Marie-Antoinette
6 Genesis 28
7 1990 movie on the horrors of war
8 Breaking Bad, highly acclaimed TV series
9 Gangs of NY 2002 movie `Copyright @ Mel Gill 06/14/2025
Ever around us, now they surround us.
This one evening of foul festival fuss.
dance with the ghosts
sing with our dead hosts
Toward the Styx we quickly schuss.
Ravens crawl and snakes fly,
goonies have only one good eye.
ghosts will haunt us
and goblins taunt us
Soon we’ll meet our fate by and by.
Secrets of rats and blind bats,
werewolves wild, and familiar cats.
zombies dragging through mud
kill, then drink the blood
while witches wave magic hats.
Cemeteries live with haints and shades,
psychotic killers wielding sharp blades.
no time for a stroll
time to pay the toll
Finality floats as the night fades.
Canvas of Catastrophe
An outcast portait of society
Public opinion timidly restrained
Descriptive world of psychotic anarchy
Borderline genius, brilliantly insane
Artificial imagined ancient discovery
Sacrificed human, silenced little lamb
Red drifted mist it's as thick as thieves
King of the Dead, Queen of the Damned
Perfect people dancing in puppet strings
A choreographed movement of the masses
The artists painted canvas of catastrophe
dead people buried below green grasses
Secret genetic DNA coded re-structuring
Designer drugs for a euphoric state of mind
left to watch planet earth fight its catastrophe
Sitting in front row seats atop of cloud nine
Poem Revised @ 10/26/17
Entered into contest: "End October Premiere Contest"
Hosted by: Brian Strand