Beuracratic twee Bridgend..Has banned a
Donkey ride buisness, thats been on the go'
For over, one hundred years; my friends!
Such great interaction with good muscle workouts..When the donkeys
Saw action.' I reckon they walked in dry, the damp; and rain.' Being usefull to their humans is for them no pain.' Tactile animals they enjoy being the attraction.!! Bringing
Smiles to kids faces, and much satisfaction..Inner city children maybe some blind, feeling fur and maybe not?
Left out? Or behind.? Jay Bateman their
Owner is so very sad..I a just see straightjacket
Manner, when all is said.' A clinical answer
To a non-existent irk..Being rammed
Down Porthcawl shoreline..Though in reality it don't
Work.'
It burns real sore..Much despair is tendered.' Like it or not? Like could your soul be up-ended?
Its under the fence.? Beyond those pales.' It whispers there are screams; and epic fails.'
An example of the ducking stool.? No matter your standing ( the labelling tools?) Are blunt
And forcefully handled. Too...' ad-nauseum Rules.. dunk dunk dunk.' We observe the thunk,? And
Timbreless'ness second guess..Or ten thousand more 'artificial input un-topical' man are
These doughnuts RAW.!! I guess chocolate is their vanilla? Who nightmared this up? In a
Tangle of interdiction.' At an insanity hub.? Ekow.' and how! my summation in the main, I think.? I guess.
They are out.' Yet never free.' There just seems to be no gain? Is this just like 'twister?' From those
Who have an allergy to deeper games' such as chess.? Or bridge? Or poker.? Or any thing that.. Tries your wits.' ENOUGH.! Of such boring format." With choice straightjacket? Or chocolate
Suit.?
i don't go to the beach anymore
my emotions go insane when i think of the bloody footprints in the sand
the wrong decisions made are like half my body eaten by sea carnivores
the waves give me migraines to the point where my equilibrium has eczema in its whiplash
the sun melts my skin to the point of an electric shock straightjacket
if my heart was chocolate milk, i would become so pale that i would have to classify as caucasian
i went to see a seaside doctor, but all that she did was smile at the view
i went to see a specialized counsellor, but all he did was stare wonderingly at the view
i tried to make a friend, but all she wanted to do was shop for her new oceanfront condo
instead i decided to give God a try, and all he did was Listen
i want to go to the intracoastal waterway
i dig the peace and its careful directional flow
eventually lower blood pressure and ultimate Peace of Mind will lead me back to the ocean
until then, God Is Not Through With Me Yet, and i will never be done Listening To and Believing In Him....
Poetry be damned
The grey coloured straightjacket of poetry
I have, like, Houdini freed me of these shackles
flowers, loveliness and mendacities.
An unbearable burden getting buried by a ton
of rotten blooms. I am free!
Fly from tree to tree not seeing the foliage,
soar higher than anyone before so elevated,
the blue planet is a bauble on a Christmas tree.
I land in a potato field with ordinary colours and
brown soil and when flowers from Amsterdam
are in season I`m free to wade in a muddy pool,
wear yellow wellies towing on a string a tiny sailboat
that (as by magic) becomes a three mastered schooner.
All this because I ain´t no poet but a writer and can
use double negatives if I so wish
(from my book When Beelzebub Ruled)
Poetry and vignettes)
just thinking … that emotion is the new reason
unadulterated feeling removed from the brink of
a showcase of intuition relieved and narrated by
the heart at the threshold of sentiment and passion
conscience on the royal road to magic sensations
when the hyena of analysis morphs into a dolphin
a unicorn pokes the terrified bubble of the mind
and driftwood flies to the tune of a universal soul
recycled trash dissolves the mental heap of tips
of an iceberg polar bears and penguins transcend
madness as cure for insanity and crazy bedlam
if you discard the straightjacket of conjecture
refute the shackles prise open trapdoor’s springs
refuse to mediate between prescriptions and levitation
encourage the sleeping giant to rise to the challenge
stop to engage with a dangerous theatre of rationale
when bells and whistles chime and synapses jingle
and an inner pied piper heals the rat race of cogitation
the cogs of internal hamster wheels come off the trolley
spin on an axis of intuition and alite from just thinking
30th December 2020
It was an ordinary house, so I had no fear when they said come in.
A suburban house with a red door, like many others in the area.
I saw no one, but I knew they were there, somewhere.
Hey! I yelled. Silence answered me. So I sat on the couch.
I was arrested a few seconds later when police came.
They asked me about the bodies. What bodies?
They asked me about the stabbings. What stabbings?
They asked me about the mutilations.
I was so stunned, I had no words.
I was put into a straightjacket and moved to a mental ward.
This was the craziest place ever. No one was sane here.
If I got out of here alive it would be wonderful.
I never did know what happened at that house
Because my personalities do not talk to each other.
It is sad that my DNA was all over the victims though.
Under their fingernails, and bits of my hair were there.
Pulled out by the roots. It is strange to live in one body
As several different people.
What was that? No. You shut up!
Go ask Alice in her padded cell,
how she took a tumble and fell.
Down a rabbit hole of illusion,
Whom now don’s a straightjacket of confusion.
Go ask Alice with her veins full of Lithium,
how she surrendered to her delirium,
of smoking caterpillars and a grinning feline.
Who’s attached to an Intravenous mainline.
Go ask Alice about her sanity,
how it vanished in this asylum of rhapsody.
In a fog that is translucent and hypnotic.
In her Wonderland with painted narcotics.
quality time with her in the ocean breeze of life
what do i mean
coming home from work one day late
i see her at the table still in her work clothes
she is not happy
she tells me she has been worried sick and was praying for me
i pull her to me and kiss her lips softly with an unspoken guarantee
then i pull a small jar out of my pocket and pour it in the middle of us
she looks at me all weird and asks me if i had lunch in a straightjacket today
i laugh and and tell her no....i drove three and a half hours to collect this gift for you
you are like 'huh, what'....and i reply by explaining that i collected a bit of an ocean breeze
it is then that the bell of understanding rung in your head like BONNNNNNNG!!!!!! BONNNNNG!!!!! BONNNNNG!!!!! BONNNNNG!!!!
you become emotional and press your head against my chest
i lift your chin up to me and look into those beautiful sandy brown eyes of yours and say 'we will again one day'
you smile as if you know that it will happen
it is then that we go into the living room and cut on BEACHFRONT BARGAIN HUNT
it is not that it is ironic, oh my dear alanis, but moreso like the word 'wish' on top of an arrow pointing forward
Emotionally I have hit the wall
Speeding as a bullet
My flow was stopped sudden
Though the momentum still persists
Wriggling to break free
With arms tethered to the side
A self-created straightjacket
In this case keeps me in harm
I can see the answer ahead
Feel the sense of freedom it brings
But it seems so out of reach
Fingers that cant quite touch
The time that has passed terrifies
Years wasted in unhappiness
As if to break free is wrong-doing
I lay here motionless, still
If I was to die tomorrow
I would have but one regret
That I did not push on forward
Instead I wallowed in blocked
Sure, you love me…
But not enough to go the tougher miles
But not enough for tears but only smiles
Sure, you love me…
But only when the sun is shining bright
But only when I’m close not out of sight
Sure, you love me….
But not enough my straightjacket to be
But not enough the insanity to see
Sure, you love me…
But only when I keep demons at bay
But only when sugar coated words I say
Sure, you love me…
But not enough to fill my every need
But not enough to bind me when I bleed
Sure, you love me…
But in front of others my love you deny
But in front of others you just let me cry
Sure you love me…
But only when there’s no one else to kiss
But only when there’s no one else to miss
Sure, babe, sure you love me...
But this isn’t what love’s meant to be
But don't be surprised when I set you free
Eileen Manassian
inside here, it spins and zigzags
outside there, normal is my favorite flavor
either way, a straightjacket insanitarium awaits me
when i stay, i pay
when i go, it is like i don't know
confusion is a boa constrictor squeezing until the color of life fades to nothing
what was once fun is now a heartache playing darts with my Sanity's cerebellum
it all leads me to follow fragile
where it all takes me i have no idea
what i do know is that sometimes in life you have to throw away the running shoes
survival is a cash reward incomparable to nothing except God's Love....
now that i think about it, all around, over, under, and on all sides of us, that is where our focal points need to be....
Fate, you seamstress old witch
Garments of life measured with line
The misery of men, a fabric been stitched
By your roughshod, wicked designs
Buttons missed, or threading used frayed
Throws muscular waste and decay
The world, steeped in suffering has paid
With the dystrophied lives you betray
Impoverished styles you’ve miserly made
While the hungry painfully wails
Cut-corner fashions are endlessly weighed
On your crooked, treacherous scales
Celestial shop, contains all the cloth
All the ribbons, the bows and the bands
Yet beautiful clothes, are put-off with sloth?
Or lie idle in withering hands?
No orders come in, tailored and chopped
For a dress spangle entrenched?
And what of the suit, with sleeves to be lopped
That for months sat on your bench?
Your life shall be hemmed, in a straightjacket locked
And laced with poisonous snakes
By a white coat I’ve mended, with pockets I cropped
And cut to your sickening tastes!
On the verge of insanity, judging myself by the man in me,
My judicial thoughts are overwhelming, it's like every time I stand I sink,
I guess if life was all true, then it would all be wrong,
We wouldn't have the hurt feelings, to make us strong,
But, how are you gonna stand there and instist that I hear you out,
I'm not gonna stand and listen, when all you do is scream and shout
I've reached my boiling point, now I'm beginning to steam,
My lungs are aching for air, but in my head I just wanna scream
My life could go either way, just depends on my gravitational pull,
I've been writing poetry since my days in gradeschool,
But I'm not cool, I've never been, but this is the air I breathe,
I didn't have to learn the alphabet, the alphabet learned me
It's like, when I'm not writing I'm wearing a straightjacket,
I'm held up in a ball and I'm stuck, it's like a bad habit
I'm mad at it, but choose not to dwell on nothing, I'd rather be happy,
But I won't be truly happy until I reach the top of the tree, this is poetry
lied to, coming out of the womb
lied to, all the way to the street
lied to, any time you had questions
lied to & then told not to cheat
lied to, surrounded by “justice”
lied to, peering out from behind bars
lied to, when they put you in a straightjacket
lied to, when they dubbed you a star
lied to, when you ****ed up again
lied to, when they rounded you up
lied to, when they said it wasn’t your fault
lied to, when they wanted your stuff
lied to, when you flicked on the tele
lied to, when you clicked it off
lied to, by the people around you
lied to, when you locked yourself up
lied to, going into self-seclusion
lied to, by the only one you trust
lied to, because you know no difference
lied to, just to hear what you want
lied to, when younger & naïve
lied to, when older & tired
lied to, because no one will help you
pull yourself from the fire.
He poured his heart into the stock market
Had a knack for knowing when to invest
Tight with funds; should have had a straightjacket
Somehow he managed to avoid arrest
Passed a man living on a cardboard box
The tin cup still empty as he passed by
Though he spent his life trying to outfox
This chance for redemption he did defy
*Entry for Natalie’s Genius or Criminal Contest
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