Long Well adjusted Poems

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Premium Member Growing Pains


Every family has them
These unsettling times these misunderstandings
Times when many things come into play
In most cases these wee spats are soon over and forgotten
But sometimes differences run deeper
Because of other factors
Such as jealousy, middle child syndrome personality
It's only human nature at play
The necessity for all to find our place
In the overall scheme of life
To establish one's self in the pecking order
And accepting it without malice, without jealousy
A hard lesson to learn when we're brand new at he game
Always suspecting that siblings
Are the ones receiving preferential treatment
In reality, they are reacting in exactly the same matter
Trying their best to learn the ropes
To understand what life means what life is all about
But we never do have all the answers
Even if we survive those uncertain early years
And live to the ripe old age of thirty
Well that is what old age is when you're a teenager
Please be assured, you WILL get through
And be a well adjusted adult


Heaven's Earthly Duty

Precious treasury
Unimagenable strength
Held no length
Bravery
Our cavalry
Jesus Christ
Saved our lives
God's chosen
Has spoken
Showing us our true course
God is our force
Glorious Heavenly Father above
Untainted and loved
Removed from darkness
Replaced with love and kindness
Come together in faith
As our Lord's people were made to help us save
All will be witnesses
I AM, attending to my Father's business
God's will shall be done
Taught as one
May God's people remain humble
Lead as a good example
Above all
Father's love now conquers all
Well-adjusted
Trusted
Opened our doors
Like never before
Led
By our Father's bread
Creator's lineage
God's image
Giver of truth
Was given in our youth
Servant now friends
We can no longer pretend
Gave my family entry
Whispered, I love thee
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Person Non-Grata

("Blue Egg In Red Sea", 2020, original oil)

Person Non-Grata

Call me old-fashioned,
but I’m glad my mother was a woman.
I’m glad about a lot of things actually,
the little things in life 
like a stable marriage, well adjusted children
a good education and something tenuous
yet pervasive enough to take for granted;
the Rule of Law.
So many things to be grateful for
(as I write this on a laptop, in a warm, well lit 
comfortably secure home).
And yet, the reality is
if I say these things
all but a few frown, or nervously look away
wondering who might overhear
the heretic ranting on his soap-box
tainting by association
all the pleasures of a modern life
better left taken for granted
and appreciated in private
as the world continues to turn
looking for the next
person non-grata to burn.

(1/19/24)
Form: Narrative

Whats Your Poison Slam

Let me begin by saying
Personally i am Pro-Choice
Its your life live it as you see fit

Who am I to tell you what to do ?

So what I am about to say 
I know in reality is hypocritical 
And only a personal opinion
Make of it what you will

Everyone has and is entitled to their own opinion

But for me I wish more than anything 
Children would be allowed to be Children

My heart sinks when I see young Girl's 
Caked in make-up , fake tan dressed up
Going to School

The fact that children are being told
Sex and gender is a choice 
And children are expressing their sexual preference 
When they shouldn't even know anything about sex
Let alone express a preference 

If you are old enough cast your mind back
And ask yourselves this question 
Were you worried about any of this
Or just having fun playing and growing up
With your friends 

Life is full of choices
But Nature and Natural order should not be 1 of them 
How the hell is a child to know what he or she wants 
When they are 10

What kind of mixed signals are we teaching young girl's 
If we dress them up telling them beauty is a path
Then expect them to be well adjusted and aspirational 

Teach acceptance 
And beauty can't be painted on
And that a Daughter 
Is equal to a Son

Come on People
If we want to be equal
Then let children be children
And stop telling them what they can and can't do

They can make their own choices 
When they are old and wise enough
When they are done playing

Premium Member In the twilight of thought, where shadows of reason linger

In the twilight of thought, where shadows of reason linger,
I find myself floating in an ocean of consciousness,
A man, a whisper against the turbulent waves of culture,
Each wave a metaphor, each ripple a memory of forgotten understandings.
Culture, they say, is a tapestry woven from the threads of individuals,
Each unique response to nature, a stitch in the grand design,
Yet, here we stand, eight billion souls, each desperate for a spotlight,
A grotesque dance of egos, hungry for the nectar of recognition,
Endlessly fighting to be seen, to be heard, in some extraordinary way,
Separate from the collective, yet somehow deeper.
But isn't culture the echo of individual voices harmonized by time?
A symphony born from the whispers of countless souls,
Each note a response to the world, a reflection of place and spirit,
And yet, now, the melody is fractured, a cacophony of dissonance,
As we abandon the chorus for the solo, the community for the individual.
In this melancholic reverie, I see the grotesque unfolding,
A society sickened by its own desire for distinction,
Where the celebration of culture is overshadowed by the pursuit of uniqueness,
Where the importance of the collective is denigrated to the point of despair.
Oh, how we need to find our way back to the dance of unity,
To celebrate the culture that shapes us, the heritage that defines us,
For in the embrace of the collective, we find our true self,
Not in the futile quest to be different, but in the harmonious blend of many.
There is no health in being well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society,
A society that has forgotten the beauty of its own tapestry,
Lost in the obsession with the individual thread,
And yet, in this flow of consciousness, I see a path,
A way to weave ourselves back into the fabric of humanity,
To stray from the norm, to challenge the grotesque,
And thus, to find a leap towards a brighter, more united future.
In this twilight of thought, let us find the dawn,
Where the shadows of reason yield to the light of unity,
And the ocean of consciousness becomes a river of collective spirit,
Flowing towards a horizon of hope, where culture and individual
Are not in conflict, but beautifully intertwined,
A testament to the magic of our shared existence.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Poets Are Well Grounded

Contrary to the popular consensus

Poets in general are very well grounded, well adjusted

As opposed to the general population

It's the average Joe or Jillian out there that are in question

It's really not their fault, it's due to the state of the world

The constant bombardment of negative news

That we constantly receive daily

Negatively affects us year after year, decade after decade

It never gets any better... in fact it's worse AND scarier

But I've said it before and here I say it again

Rise above it and carry on in spite of all the negativity

In my experience, it's really the only way to survive

I seem to be harping on this theme a lot lately

But in reality, I'm just trying to give you the benefit of my 79 years

And what I've found has helped me get through

Really I'm no great stinker... uh, thinker

Just passing along what I've learned!



© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Every Family Has Them

Every family has them
These unsettling times, these misunderstandings
Times when many things come into play
In most cases these wee spats are soon over and forgotten
But sometimes differences run deeper
Because of other factors
Such as jealousy, middle child syndrome, personality
It's only human nature at play
The necessity for all to find our place
In the overall scheme of life
To establish one's self in the pecking order
And accepting it without malice, without jealousy
A hard lesson to learn when we're brand new at he game
Always suspecting that siblings
Are the ones receiving preferential treatment
In reality, they are reacting in exactly the same matter
Trying their best to learn the ropes
To understand what life means, what life is all about
But we never do have all the answers
Even if we survive those uncertain early years
And live to the ripe old age of thirty...
Well that is what old age is when you're a teenager
Please be assured, you WILL get through
And be a well adjusted adult
Form: Rhyme

Chasing Ghosts In Cars

“Chasing Ghosts in Cars” 

Like automata
we walk inside 
winding up the stairs

it’s all mechanical
the romance 
programmed

by steep degrees 
in the 
well-routined

we can walk 
through walls
anywhere

to look out 
our windows 
towards the better view

each cell in the body
and mind renewed
we expurgate

the misplaced 
misconceptions 
of others, of ourselves

it’s fair-weather sailing 
out there, 
the transparent come and go

best to turn 
a blind eye
a swift kiss on the cheek

make it brief
then close all
your doors 

to their artful dodger hauntings
friendships and felicitations
their joyful gleaming commiserations

whole oceans 
full of souls
walking and swimming 

treading water 

all the floating 
poesies planted
mindfully fragrant 

fresh bits thrown
parlayed introspection
deliciously blooded with the sharks 

such hungry poets
with a well-adjusted
deep knowing

and a quiet 
unthorough 
understanding 

of another 
unknown equation
in the real world 

never making 
premature 
judgements

outside is a risk
we all take 
we write what we know

we know what we write
ghost written 
in the Daily Phantom

in the gloaming fantasy
there still exist 
real ghouls calling us in

hungry for kindness
burying pity for 
the honesty it lacks

inside we are listing
the volume we turn up 
to hear messages better

we are 
listening 
to cars 

lyrics 
we wish you
to know

to be understood
when you are 
chasing ghosts 

some say
they’ve gone too far
they’re too far gone away

forget-me-knots
hanging loose 
chasing ghosts in cars

Machiavellians
gone astray 

the naked minds 
of  
undressed nuns

and 
sanctimonious preachers 
oiling their guns

(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)





“Here in my car
I feel safest of all
I can lock all my doors
It's the only way to live in cars 

Here in my car
I can only receive
I can listen to you
It keeps me stable for days in cars”





listing/nautical.
“Listing” is a nautical term to describe when a vessel takes on water and tilts to one side. A ship can list either to port (left) or starboard (right). By contrast, a ship is said to be “trimming” when she tips forward or backward.

To Madame G

(after Alfred de Musset)

I take the view that travel gets you wet.
There’s also wind and dust.  And in the morning,
your clothes are crumpled.  Is this tete-a-tete
worth all the hassle?  I would end up yawning!

I take the view, there is no greater folly
than starting an affair far out of town.
Don’t go by Madame Laide or Missy Jolie,
for hotel plumbing always lets you down.

Sheer, well-adjusted stockings, white as milk:
a pretty dress, decked out in watered silk:
your toenails clean, and painted: what beats that?
Or do you think I’m talking through my hat?
I might as well speak Japanese to mice:
what lover ever listened to advice?
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Baring My Soul

I was the last of ten children in my family

Nine lovely girls and li'l ole me

Spoiled you may rightly assume

WRONG!

I was the sweetest well mannered offspring

That a parent could ever wish for

Even to the point of being withdrawn

All through my teenage years

I had an inferiority complex

Never thought the opposite sex

Would ever be interested in me

Early on in my career as a graphic designer

Things began to change dramatically

My success gave a new found confidence

And suddenly I saw myself in a different light

Which allowed me to open up my heart

And function as a normal, well-adjusted human

With all the ups and downs, the highs and lows

With all the hopes and dreams everyone possesses

Married Linda, when I was twenty-two

Linda was eighteen and wanted despareatly

To get out from under the control

Of an extremely dominating and controlling mother

Did she love me?

Looking back, I would say no

I was her ticket to freedom

Not a good way to start our married life together

Oh our marriage was a happy one at first

But knowing that she really didn't love me

I was always trying to MAKE HER LOVE ME

But I never felt like I succeeded

We had three kids of our own

And we adopted two others

Those adopted kids were my way of trying to tighten the bond

To give her everything she asked for

But I never ever felt that I succeeded

She passed away at fifty-nine from breast cancer

At the same time, her younger sister Cathie

Was going through a nasty divorce

We supported each through those difficult times

And it was only natural, we fell in love and married two years later

Cathie really does love me and for the very first time

I am happy and content with my life

Which is all I ever wanted...

Now you know my story!


© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

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