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Best Poems Written by Larry Logan

Below are the all-time best Larry Logan poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Borderline Personality Disorder: Full Disclosure

Borderline Personality Disorder: Full Disclosure


There is no I inside,
No consistent self through time. 
I know that I am but 
Don't know who it is that is,
Who will be tomorrow, or was yesterday.
          Sad to be confused.

All there is is nothing,
Like grabbing invisible wind,
Squeezing a fist-full of water.
          Sad to be empty.

It makes no sense to do something 
By myself for myself.
In relationship I take the back seat.
The other one's life becomes mine.
          Sad to have nothing to give.

I know you love me,
But do not believe you do, and
I hate you sometimes too but
Don’t leave or lose me from your heart.
I swear I’ll do anything.
          Sad to be afraid to be alone.

Chemically alter my mood? Of course,
And every chance I get.
          Sad to not live in my own skin

Anger jumps quick to rage
And I hurt who I desperately love. 
          Sad to be mean.

No more dreams of who or what to be, 
Not goals to achieve with joy
Like happy people have to live for.
          Sad to have no future.

Self harm becomes the norm because
It's better than suicide.
          Sad to choose between the two.

Emotions twist and scatter, hop about,
Bounce about, smash against each other, or
Splat the sides of my brain and scream.
          Sad to be unstable.

Time is long past up for me to be:
Living unbearable despair, 
Suffering extreme, unacceptable.
Hamlet’s answer the later.
          Sad for loved ones loved.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

The Thought of Death Is Sweet This Morning

Another day, life without purpose:
Beaten,
Uneaten,
Tossed aside.

I want the receipt back for this life:
Return it,
Get the money,
Buy a 38-gauge trip to the end. 

You gave this life to me God.
Once given, forever relinquished.
It is mine.
You let go all claim when
You gave it to me.
Now I am ruler, owner. I
Shape it,
Mold it.
My choice.

The Jesus tells me to kill myself,
Give up.
Self-terminate.
End the pain and torment,

Or does He abuse me with hope,
Promise of new life,
Victory assured.
Impossible success and great joy?

Suicide thoughts are not of darkness.
Hope to live and prosper is the lie.

Satan wants me to live with the torment
Of constant failure.
Mental illness.
Self-hate.
Frozen in fear.

The god says, “Stop it all now!”
Find freedom in dying,
Release from hell as promised
Because taking my life is the god’s will,
So there is no sin or crime.
He wants me to shut the door,
To welcome the final end.

Satan pushes for continued life,
Battered, sunk down in a swamp,

He lies for me to overcome the world,	
Expect all things to work for good.

Jesus tells me I will always fail.
I am a mistake, defective, worthless,
Total depravity, born for iniquity.
Better to not have been,
To slaughter myself now and escape.
To stop my life is obedience,
Devotion, faithful to comply,
Willing to do what the god wants me to do,
	
I thought it was the other way around,
But I had the damn thing upside down.

Satan wants me to live with worthless hope each day.
The god wants me to sleep quiet in peace. 

Suicide seems right, living is not,
And the thought of death is sweet this morning.

Satan wants me to live and believe
The father, the son, the holy spirit.
To say I can do all things through
Christ who strengthens me,
That the god has plans to give me faith
And a future.

Mr. Devil tells me I can live in light,
Accepted by the god and worthwhile on earth,
Then watches me squirm and twitch.
Dangling in the noose of hope.

He wants me to keep living,
Afraid to be alone.
Without love.
Dinning on failure.
Swimming in shame.
	
Mr. god wants me to pull the trigger,
Slice the artery,
Snap the neck,
Take the pills,
Jump and splat,
Do what it takes to take this life
Join with Him forever.

It is God’s love to end it all.
To stop the sorrow.
Kill the hurt.
Bring true blessing of reincarnation.


Yes, the thought of death is sweet this morning.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Annie Dog

Her given name was Anna Abigail Logan,
But to family she was Foo Foo,
Trot-a-dog, Scruff McMuffin, Nose Brain, 
Poo Dog, Annie Bananie, Snarf Dog,
Anners, Baby Girl, and Lovie.

A tiny fluff ball with black button eyes,
She had no brakes at first.

I sat on the carpet by the fireplace to play.
She would run full speed at me,
Crash head first into my outstretched leg,
Fall over, jump up in flash motion,
Then tare off in circles of fun.

She was an ambassador of love,
A warm little lap-sized giving machine.  

She had no fear of strangers.
Hugs were pets and she collected them
From everyone, everywhere, 
Giving back sloppy wet kisses
Whenever she could get a good lick in.

A silver miniature Schnauzer of merit,
Supreme friend and companion extraordinaire.

With a nose that came out to greet you,
Big bushy eyebrows and a deluxe beard
Dangled in her water dish, 
Dripping after a good drink. 
She walked on log legs, cylinders of long fur.

Perfectly groomed, sniffing air and thick woods
Or snoozing with Mom in her favorite chair.
	
Good-bye dear Annie Dog. We will see
You on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Lucifer Works For God

Head of Department of Discipline,
Manager of Correctional Intervention Division,
Follows orders from on high.

Not an independent entity,
Adversary to the Lord of all people, places, and things,
Appears as a roaring lion looking for someone to devour,
To ensnare us like birds then drag to Gehenna
Just outside the city.
Rather like a thorn in the flesh ordered by God for good,
Delivered by the messenger of Satan to preempt conceit.

Change is rare without pain, repentance as well,
A gift from above to effect good growth
In character, heart, and behavior.
Pain is an alcoholic's friend.
Ask any recovering addict.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Jesus, When Did You Repent

You did not walk in shame for who you were,
Screaming iniquity to your face.

You did not hate yourself,
Feel worthless, unfit for love, nor
Did you grieve for stealing or lies you told.

Did you ever cut your flesh
To stop your tornado mind?

You did not know failure.
Recorded temptations symbolic.
You could not give in; God cannot sin.

When were you mentally ill,
Medicated for Depression or Bipolar?
You were not in deep therapy for years?

What addictions ruined your life,
A slave to appalling pleasure, and
Did you beg God each night to quit,
Then return every day to the vomit of
Your own destruction?

Jesus, when did you ever repent?

Details | Larry Logan Poem

White

4 a.m. fog rich on fields tranquil. 
Holstein milk slaps the bucket by hand.
White reports parking-lot cars with lights on.

Calls home to mom every Tuesday.
Young love is as white as is baby’s first smile,	
And slow napping with kitties’ purr on the pillow.

White says excuse me, thank you, God bless you,
And love you, when leaving.

Two drunks wrapped under one blanket,
One bridge, one empty same night.

Wet, smooth cheeks, mild lemon grass.
White willow’s wonder, spider web dew.
The feel of raw rice slipping through fingers.

White wiffles on the hill.

Cooked spaghetti, no sauce, tastes white.
White holds dreams for you when faith fails, 
Splatted with mud and mired muck.

White sandy beaches, a drifty summer day.

January days locked in ice.
Foster parents cooking for once abused girls,
Chicken and rice with low-fat gravy and broccoli.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Not Specific This God

Not specific this God beyond understanding
Said Elihu to Job long ago.
Outstretches all classification,
Not bound by identity one or another,
Bigger than any holy publication,
God above definition of those who made God
Pleasing to themselves, that is,
A gender-ascribed Bronze Age tribal god of war
Unable to deliver from foreign control who
Now saves only souls who believe such a thing.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Lorazepam

A blanket of silent fluffy fog
Liquid-smooth muscles at rest
Dreamy with drifty thoughts
Tea-kettle steam pre hiss
No worries, no woes 
No wrinkly, scrinkly nose
Lemon and honey tea
Not sleeping; not waking;
Nowhere to go; nothing to do
Float through a limp lazy day 
June gentle breeze
Swaying lovely willow trees 
Like silky warm skin 
Sleeping on a sandy beach 
Cows graze in the field 
Creeks meander along slow 
(Meander is a funny word.) 
Lovers in naked embrace 
Smooth jazz in the evening 
Song sparrows sing in the sun 
After Thanksgiving-dinner nap 
Ice cream and mint tea 
Foot massage and back rubs 
Sleep in on Sunday till ten
Mountain meadow’s crystal stream.

If it ends in p-a-m 
It’s the good stuff.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Red

Red, fire-red, stunning red
Shouts for attention, a glitzy comet,
Red giant suns exploding in space.

Red knows a million jokes.
	
Electricity arcing, sparking bright.
Hopping barefoot on blazing-hot sand,
Dashing the 50, red wins again.

Sirens attack eardrums,
Barns and fire engines, lava and roses.  
Red yells, STOP! And “I Love You.”

The Lone Ranger song is as red as red can be.

Angry red, striking hard and savage.
Sizzling steak, blistering skin.
Red is an auditorium in full clapping.

Jumping off cliffs smashing rocks below.
Blinking thoughts, ping-pong thoughts,
Bound on arid land, sagebrush left behind.

Lips to kiss long and hard and cherries are red.

Three hundred bees buzzing in the attic.
Red is Kim chi and horseradish.
Smells like cinnamon and danger.

Details | Larry Logan Poem

Idol Worship

Some worship the Bible more
Than He at that idol’s core.