Long Schizophrenic Poems
Long Schizophrenic Poems. Below are the most popular long Schizophrenic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Schizophrenic poems by poem length and keyword.
Quite a vivid late afternoon/
early evening dream
transpired within me noggin
housed deep within skullcap
regarding right wing kooky
conspiracy plot to kidnap
a leary paranoid
schizophrenic king suspicious of trap
upon arising from lengthy nap
yours truly, who sought to pull himself
a generic garden variety chap
up courtesy his own figurative bootstrap
on account of groggy feeling
so methought to download
wake up quick app.
Before hurriedly bidding thee rabbit reader
a bunny fide hasta la vista
linkedin concatenated adieu,
(I bemusedly, kindly, readily, willingly
acknowledge (while zippily wiggling
mine button nose)
naysaying belonging to species and genus
Oryctolagus cuniculus Yemenite
my matter of fact honest to dog aim to write
creating literary masterpiece considerably
far less than one terabyte
no way no how attests
(quintessentially, simultaneously, vociferously...
waving shaky spear less to prove point
versus making verses to feign)
being adept with skill set of playwright
while playing fair and as (unbeknownst
until just recently) privileged white knight
such unfairness motivates
participation with Cherry Hill, New Jersey
Unitarian reparations group
genuine fellowship doth excite.
Caffeine consumption
creative process helps jumpstart
impossible mission to chart
outcome regarding crafting poem
analogous to elusive prey
thoughts slither and dart
to and fro, hither and yon
yet how ideal if literary endeavor
could possibly be mapped out
courtesy devine English flowchart
distinct symbols representing
how branching outcomes show start
to finish plot encompassing
picture of broken heart,
where love labour's lost
where all's well that ends well
pertaining to romantic tragedy
cue Romeo and Juliet
rent asunder torn apart.
Yo,
Dis poem is in honor of manic mistresses who war against the fleeting flesh,
Yo, dis poem is honor of schizophrenic Don Quixotes, swingin' at windmills of panic
stricken consciousness,
Yo Dis poem,
Yo Dis poem is honor of maestro's chasin' the muse of the logos made flesh,
In words, the only comfort they possibly know,
Flowing in a reverie of ecstatic epiphany,
Caressing solace, defeating the alienation of solitude,
The man sat staring at the fractured scatterings of a generation that had forsaken kindness,
And the woman saw him, and outstretched her hand, but the agent of chaos grabbed her,
Purpose, he said, purpose,
And the angels wept,
Yo, genius shining through the tears of fear made real,
Reeling, peeling, away layers of miraculous fish feeding thousands,
Miraculous words, healing a generation,
Begging Christ for a moment's rest,
From the war that wages within,
Men sing songs of triumph,
But courage is when your very mind won't have you,
And your heart, mocks you with its mercurial caprice,
Genius shining through hilarious and cacophonous laughter,
Outraged and astounded,
Dumbfounded and incredulous,
At how no one can feel this,
Pain that seems so salient,
Raging seas of foaming mouths in ascetic white rooms of institutionalized slavery,
Thieves profiting on the sound of crying children,
Praying, wishing that their parents would piece together the puzzle of sanity,
And rest in the greenhouse of sanctuary,
But God won't have it.
For this suffering is but a moment's mist,
In the calculus of eternity,
And in the end, a tree of inspiration,
Emerges from the relentless voices,
And the world knows healing!
[Bass drop]
I saw the lights—red, blue, divine,
Thought the cops were DJs droppin’ beats in a line.
Sirens wailing like synths on fire,
My brain said “dance,” my legs said “fly, sir!”
I hit the field like a disco crusader,
Tripped on a skunk—funk’s personal invader.
He popped up slow, tail in the air,
Struck a pose like he just don’t care.
Now he’s moonwalking, tail all curled,
Smelling like heartbreak and end-of-the-world.
But he’s got rhythm, he’s got soul,
My backup dancer with a funk patrol.
We’re dodging sprinklers, leaping bins,
Grooving through trauma with manic grins.
Neighbors scream, “Boy, that ain’t no club!”
But we’re two funky fugitives, fresh from the hub.
[Beat builds]
Boston Marathon? That’s my cardio set,
Every siren’s a remix, every flash a threat.
But I run like I’m chasing a Grammy tonight,
Skunk on my six, tail lit up bright.
He spins, I slide, we break into splits,
Funk so strong it’s giving folks fits.
Ambulance lights? Just lasers to me,
Police flashers? That’s my LED.
So if you see those lights—don’t panic, don’t freeze,
Just yell, “Warn a brother!” and drop to your knees.
Let the funk possess you, let the madness flow,
We’re dancing through delusions with a technicolor glow.
[Final drop]
Reality’s cracked, but the beat is tight,
We’re the disco prophets of schizophrenic light.
Skunk and I, we own the night—
Smelling like funk, but feeling just right.
Never hit a child with a belt.
Don't hit them with a fist.
Don't hit them with a whip.
Don't hit them with a chain.
Never hit a child.
It breaks their heart.
It makes them sad.
It makes them mad.
Never hit a child.
It hurts their feelings.
It makes them cry.
It makes them manic.
It makes them depressed.
Never hit a child.
If you want to hit a child
seek help at once.
Because you'd better do that
Because you don't want to raise
a schizophrenic or a manic depressive or a drug addict
Right?
Never hit a child.
With a belt.
The angriest, saddest, maddest, meanest
ready-to-fight children,
The ones who needed me the most,
the ones who frightened me the most
the ones who hurt animals and called
names and spit on people and slapped
people in the face until the people
cried and cried.
They were all hit by belts
by their mothers.
Every single one of us.
Never hit a child with a belt.
Oscar Levant, American Author, Comedian, Music Composer and more,
Was born in the early 20th Century and died in the 1970’s
Each decade, or era has their comedians – below is one of Mr Levant’s quotes,
TWO BY TWO EQUALS FOUR
A young couple Clorrita and Dwaine,
Decided to spend a holiday in Spain,
Both vegans, enjoyed a good radish,
But either neither nor, spoke Spanish.
They carried masks, heard of an Epidemic,
The Spanish Flu could become Pandemic,
They lived in Europe on inland terrain,
So decided they would travel by train.
They asked for a sleeper for four,
The ticket officer asked, “Why Senor”,
“Well, there is me and I, and she,
And my wife, so four we are you see”.
They had never thought or planned,
People could not understand,
When they went out to dine,
“A table for four please, will be fine”.
Eventually returned home, all so relieved,
Even Clorrita and Dwaine heaved,
A sigh, people don’t do simple maths anymore,
Schizophrenics are two by two equals four!
“ROSES ARE RED VIOLETS ARE BLUE, I’M SCHIZOPHRENIC AND SO AM I”
Fortunately, medicine has advanced incredibly since the 1970’s.
Every mid nights I stay partially awake..
Haunted by schizophrenic nightmares,
Detached from conscience,
Convulsed by delusions..
"Serpentine spirit" swings me into unimaginable
adventures and tries paralysing me..
I heard a serpent would come
to prick us with venom only if we commit any sin..
But I haven't committed any..? i cogitate..!!
Then, later I verbally query before it could strike me..
To my astonishment I hear some charming music
behind the woods..
Someone comes to protect me
by attempting to rip the fangs of spirits..
While I observe them keen,
dancing to the music being heard..
I understand something..
The fierce movements performed are in fact
to defend themselves..
I intricately watch without taking off my eyes
as they hiss.. and hiss..and hiss..
After some time I voluntarily plunge myself
to wriggle &dance falling on the floor for the pitch and rhythm..
Deep down i perceive strange feelings,
Assuming to be connected with these magical spirits.
Goes on this rhythmic cavort..
as I dwell and sway in the hallucinations untill dawn..
I would call this to be supramundane..
which exquisitely flourishes in my daily nights.
31-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Third place in the Contest.
Note: Spirit animal poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart.
Sassy sobriquets schooled sissy spindleshanks...
studious sexagenarian skinny scruffy scribe
My utmost humblest apology
for inducing the following
cerebral calisthenics upon your cranium,
but the cost of friendship
with yours truly
(me – a foo fighting,
eagle eyed, beatle browed, beastie boy
christened Matthew Scott Harris)
doth newt come
like some hootie and the blowfish
super tramping
cheap trick linkedin to
wings at the reo speed wagon
spinning zz top soundcloud.
Scathing, scolding, screaming,
scorning, searing, sing,
sociopathic sarin soaked skewed
squirt, sputtering, squawking, sleepily
staggering, stabbing, swaggering
sweltering sadistic, sarcastic,
savage, systemically systematically
stigmatized, supersized saber sharp
schick shaving, shunned, sabotaged,
scarred, scorched, smote, sanguine,
stippled, speckled schizophrenic
sensibility, spurring, seething,
somewhat stultified, sophisticated,
spellbound spirited scabrous
schlemiel schlemazel, stenciled,
sundered sniveling sanguine storied
snakebitten sojourning smartass,
skeptical shoddy sophomoric
screwball, subtly sagacious,
stunted, sclerotic, scrappily
shuffling short, Shylock
styled sideburns Semite,
sainted Shasta sipping
shriveled sad sack,
sullenly syncopated, synthesized,
slobbering sybaritic, scruffy
sheepish sketchy scalawag,
Socratically scrutinizing, seizure
stricken, stoically sneezing,
shamed Skidrow skeezer, shifty,
sweaty, sham shaman,
supremely spidery, schmaltzy,
sylan seeking subsidized succor,
self shuttered, sequestered,
sidelined, shiftless, shabby,
semantically snazzy, soldiering,
shrieking, skulking, somber,
stooping, Segway scootering,
schmart spendthrift, Swahili
speaking, straitlaced, streamlined,
spongebobbing, sandal shod
sealegs, squarepants sporting
spectacles, sedate, sensate,
sentient, ship shaped,
shanghaied, salubrious,
slithering, snakish, stuttering,
sluggish, smashface scarred,
sober, solitary, sangfroid
skidamarink singing, Shamokin
speaking scrivener, scuzzy,
spunky, starved, submissively
suicidal, sunburned,
salaried shuffling senescent
snoutish soundcloud shutterflying
snapchatting schnorrer.
Everybody has a locker
It's where we go, it's who we are
A number and a place
Our expertise awaits us there
And with it, our destiny
We find it or it finds us
Mohammed Ali had his eye on a locker with a championship belt inside
That was someone else's locker
And people said he didn't know his place
The critics were silenced when he wrapped his hands and put on gloves
Albert Einstein kept an odd locker
Haphazard notes. Ridiculous theories
The mathematical equivalent of a schizophrenic rant
Nobody knew this "lunatic" was rewriting science
He changed the world
There's an old locker in France that holds the sign of a warrior
Battered armor and a well used blade
It speaks of a hero
This locker held the allegiance of a nation and the respect of kings
It now holds the ashes of a fierce fighter who's footprint dented Europe forever
She was a teenage peasant named Joan of Arc
Everybody has a locker
We find it or it finds us
We can either hang our coats
Or walk on
By Kyle Ezra Kriticos
I think I need surgery,
Can I take out my heart?
Cupid is at it again,
The diaper wearing brat.
Love is bitter-sweet,
Why can’t I just have candy sweets?
Maybe Man wasn't created to be alone
God’s plan perhaps.
Drowning in my schizophrenic abyss,
I wonder if I would see bliss.
Maybe it’s me being randy,
Why can’t I have candy?
Despite things being rowdy.
Born without mating instincts,
My congenital disease,
Emotionally indistinct
In high degrees.
Juke on repeat,
The feelings play each time,
I don’t send text thinking
she would reply,
I am wasting emotions,
It's getting pointless,
My heart is turning sour,
And my feelings, voiceless.
October 10, 2017. Topic 'A' Love and Romance.
If you are obsessive-compulsive, please press 1 repeatedly.
If you are co-dependent, ask someone to press 2 for you please.
Press 3, 4, 5, and 6 if you have multiple personalities.
If you happen to struggle with ADHD
just press..hey look over there. A little kitty!
If you are paranoid-delusional, don't press anything at all.
Just stay on the line and we'll trace the call.
If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully to the little voice in your head
and it will tell you eventually which number to press.
If you are anxious, just start pressing numbers at random.
If you are phobic, don't press anything.
If you are manic-depressive, whatever number you press really won't matter
because the bottom line is no one will ever answer.
If you are **** retentive, I've been told
to put you indefinitely on hold.