Short Neurosis Poems

The prognosis of my diagnosis
                         is
 The neurosis of my psychosis....

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Living in metropole well
necessary is to possess in profusion...
Suits, ties, documents and neurosis...

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clothes of flesh n‘bones
vital organs sustain
Soul’s temporary lair furnished
with carnal desires and neurosis...

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Writing loosens screws      of tightly wound neurosis 
into a plethora filled emporium    of creatively flowing
psychosis...

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Why am I here? Not existentially
but literally why am I here in the
crawlspace. "Why are any of us
here?" Woh! Who are you
people?...

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Obsessive neurosis 
a religion that didn't work....
Hysteria, a work of art
that was not done...
Paranoia is a system
functional that didn't work......

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discover haikus
count syllables like new coins
raw fingers crave pause














Composed: August 1/21
For: Brian Strand August Contest...

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Brains Weirdly Bunched

Angel touched and said I was touched;
When he and I had together lunched;
Naughty neurosis;
Plentiful psychosis,
And my brains were weirdly bunched.

Jim Horn...

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Scares as
                  neurosis...
                  intoxicates as
                  overdose, but swells
                  the aponeuroses...     
                   In  agonizing perplexity...

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Scares just like
                  neurosis...
                 numbs like
                  overdose, swell
                  as aponeurosis,
                  It paralyzes even as
                  hypnosis... !...

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A world of torment was his stage
His paintings previewed a later age;
Neurosis,depression & death-
Escaping into a dream
Leaving the world with 'a scream'

Edvard Monck (1863-1944) The Scream


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Scream...

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Tears jerking, winter  blue sounding
grieved mind crashing, wintry breeze dabbing
death horns calling, pink lips screaming
dark eyes bleeding, heart stick cracking
tragic hours loitering, disheartening believe dismissing
quenching all neurosis, victory sounds crazy....

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rain fingers stroke the Daphne’s neurosis
                 motionless.
            a laurel tree there.

rank-raw and austere, saucey and languid
fleckless like statue on a red room trip.

there’s this meticulous magic inventor
miming the locust in the elevator
genius and missionary 
his chariot of polygon hares....

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Sir, the fact that you’re unsure
of who you are, or why,
and you think the world’s 
not far from ending,
and your wife, allegedly,
is having an affair with a teenager,
and you’re in doubt about 
your own sexuality –
still, with all that against you,
I’d say your neurosis
is sound and healthy. 
As for your state of mind,
I have the gravest of doubts.
...

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Suffer harsh indignities
Draw your anger in
Implode

Lament not your condition
But instead your lack
Of strength

Recognize not your potency
But rather glorify
Your futility

Brutalize not your enemies
But the conditions
That bred them

Feed goats of iniquity
The putrid fodder
Of false pride

Accept yourself
As a failure
And your children too

Fuel blazing ambition
With fetid flesh
Of skittering neurosis

Die...

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Night-time uneasiness...
Nonsense! Stupid brain! Daft
neurosis! Stop! Stop it
now! Better! Breathe... relax...
nodding off... What's that? Dark
netherworld's nightmare spawn!
No! No! No! No!        No more.


Written 1st May 2017
Entry to "Pleiades n" contest


Notes: nyctophobia is the irrational fear of the dark. Most children have suffered this at some time, and even some adults can get it. Also the basis for ghost stories and horror films!...

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A disturbed spirit walks here,
not of the gentle slopes, but
of the rugged hills that know
no tranquil hours, only the lure
of suffering's curtain drawn on 
all things tender, ecstasy of a
long-held neurosis crackling
harsh notes, of shadows dark
and grim, alien to earth's sustenance,
shaping to be the pattern of this world,
across wide lands where life and 
misfortune follow the evil's trumpet
promising storm disenchantment deep,
rudely loitering....

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Scattered, or joined
                 maddened by
                 pandemic...
                 Introverts,
                 suffocated and
                 masked ...
                 We experience
                 our paralyzers
                 neurosis...
                 Without antidotes
                 without shelters ...
                 only poetry comforts us
                 as in hypnosis
                with body and soul
                 in symbiosis ... ......

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