#crazed
the annoying neighbor,
his endless barking, dog too,
the "friend" who comes only to
gather fodder for her gossip network,
the accountant who calls delightedly, smilingly
when the news is bad, and taxes owed for money long ago spent
there's no therapy, not anynmore than mere annoyances,
but things that make you wonder
WHY
and then she comes home to,
me,
telling me about her days endlessly
and the scripts of scraps that her populated in one endlessly,
single day.
reminding me for the nth time,
need to get flowers for them, this, for whom I do not
credit or care,
get tickets for her favorite singer,
all
this makes me
crazee crazed,
and grin from dimple to ear, and back again,
because ever since we met,
she is my truth, my tower, my endless beach,
my all-my-reasons-rubber band-ball-multicolored,
my crazy~woman I love,
and happily call myself,
stillcrazyafteralltheseyears
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 11:46 AM UTC
when the triumvirate,
HBS
(heart, body, soul)
virates in unison's embrace,
with alarms, belling belligerently:
kid, ya honestly think,
your old enough to be
young enough, to desire
the pain & heartbreak that
makes the agonies surrounding
the sounds of loving, yet bear
your temblors of infatuation?
have you lost perspective,
it was not so long ago
you forswore the risky
unrequited version of
chancing love, now glinting
hintings unhinging your
sense uncommonly
predictably,
and you walk a tightrope
on your fingers,
over waters of
disaster, and
is a fall and broken bones,
an injury you can
no longer afford,
no lingering chronic condition
sustainable
for the kiddie giddiness
of trying one more time?
go to your nookery,
bring pillow, wine, rhyme
and senses to remind that
this drug you have perfected
and permitted to entertain your
bloodstream's coursing through
the map of your unities, and stay,
write, but dare not imbibe the
elixir that has too often anchored
your poor heart in the dredges
of the ocean bottom?
why look at you even now!
you have been corrupted by
loving rhymes
forgetting the
freedom of free
versing, and your
eyelids encrusted
with diamond dust,
and all you can see
is the
far away horizon of
possibility
gladdened are you by the late
drummer of summer's fading glory's beauty,
but heed your internals,
curse those infernals,
loving is for the deserving
and you are not!
here I am authorized
to remind the heart pain
you endured from losing,
had no cure, and the excesses
you attempted to distract
from the doctor's blunt assement,
that loving feeling.
that left you reeling
the doctor stated,
you, the unsaited,
you, of the physical pain
of that long lasting
heart breaking occlusion
insane, had no cure
suffer not any illusions
a life of heartbreak is
not sustainable,
nor a lifetime refundable,
fall in love often,
take it and its quick deteriorating
high,
but I see you grimace,
you way past the point,
nah, you want it all...
good luck with that....
Sep 24, 2025
Sep 24, 2025 at 11:05 PM UTC
Sun soaking up
Dark in your mind
Paralysed in static terror.
Movement in shade
Sprinting through glass
Vision blurs, frozen fear.
Crazed and deranged
Flailing through mist
Demons bring truthful answers.
Flailing deranged, crazed and afraid vision sees frozen glass.
Mind coming too, sheets soaked with fear, your eyes see the sunrise to.
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 7:09 AM UTC
Why not be blamed
For something I did not do?
A crime is not a crime
Unless it has been committed
But this my friends,
It was an accident,
And I am afraid I did not do it
Why not be blamed
For a victimless crime
When it happened right before my eyes
We take the time and time again
And it starts to get real
The happenings begin
Why not be a motherless child
In a world that makes that okay
I am a victim of a crime
A crime that can't be faked
Why not leave
Mother dearest
When I need you most
To work my way through this
I'm starting to hear voices in my head
Help me, mother,
I just want this to end
I am not crazy
The voices haven't pushed me over the edge
Find me, mother
Even though I know you're dead
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 12:33 AM UTC
I don't know how to make this poetic.
I don't care to make it beautiful.
Even now I'm questioning why I'm letting this out. Not even in my black book do I wish to share this nightmare.
"I want to let go though..
There is so much hidden behind this smile. So much discomfort when they brush against my skin, nothing but lies when I hear them speak, the reason why 'love' is something I admire for afar..
I get lost in my writing,
It's very therapeutic. But even this will haunt me for days. How would you suggest letting go of this dark space?
He's right here with me,
Even now.
The reason why I hate them. He's constantly whispering in my ear, giving me reasons why I shouldn't allow anyone close. He's right on my back always a heavy load.
I still can't find the words to rid myself of his face..
I don't know how to share, my nightmare."
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 12:52 PM UTC
Coughing Crazed
trying to feel things
trying to be happy
just two kids, guitar playing
broken hearts healing
we are cough crazed
and sad some days
Vibrations always find their way
through the soles of her shoes...
She hates the days
when her soul fades away
can't keep up with the daily day
and there isn't any way that
you could make me say that
I love the way life treats us
Like trust for something that rusts
I must keep my head off of the floor
metaphor number four
can ya catch me
or can ya catch no more?
I'm mean like that
and I ain't even roar
I bet your brain is sore
from this rap of sorts
I bet I ****** you off
down to your core, she's singing:
*I'm just a sad clown
only around when I'm not wanted
we're just two coughing crazed kids
trying to not be forgotten
but now we've become unresponsive...*
Coughing crazed
trying to feel things
trying to be happy
just two kids, guitar playing
broken hearts healing
we are cough crazed
and sad some days
Vibrations always find their way
through his finger tips like magic...
He hates it when they tell him
that he can accomplish so much more
do they not get it?
That he's trying to not be sore anymore
just close the drawer
it's time to move on but he won't forgive and forget
she stung him in the chest
he was crying from it
so overwhelming
everything turns
ain't it absurd
how much they expect
all he needs is respect
but they'll never give him it
so tired of trying
and that's when he starts singing:
*I'm just a sad clown
only around when I'm not wanted
we're just two coughing crazed kids
trying to not be forgotten
but now we've become unresponsive...*
**We're just sad clowns
only around when we're not wanted
we're just two coughing crazed kids
trying to not be forgotten
but now we've become unresponsive...**
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 10:10 PM UTC
I have a soft spot for broken melodies, dark words
and repressed emotions.
These are the kind I know like the marks on my torso
pale branches to deceive countless shadows
within. Each consumed the spirits
of kindness, adventure and innocence, supplanting the child
permitting a deformed entity, possessed
with crime-less guilt and constant
troubling thoughts--of losses
never truly known.
A miracle, one might call it, that skin and thin flesh
have not imploded.
Not yet. Perhaps
the body is too stiff, too stubborn. Perhaps
the will has enough still to stretch, stretch,
stretch, stretch
yet
until the frail rubber finally
snaps
where then
will the sanity be, where then
will life go?
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
The wind is screaming around the trees.
Interjecting between my thoughts and psychotic capacity.
What is perception to reality?
Is it laying in the gutter looking up at the stars?
Is it laying in a bed stained with someone else's scars?
Are you wishing, hoping for a dream?
Are you as close as you'll ever be tearing at the seams?
Was it a dream hearing her say your name?
Or is this low carb diet your price to be sane?
You're drowning out a girl who you call your psychotic capacity.
You're wondering why she's no longer in love with me.
What if she's the one with the lie, perception is reality.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
mind frozen
body tense
I keep telling myself that I care about spiritual growth
but **** it all to hell
i want to be close in the biblical sense
somewhere there's bumpin' and grindin' happening this very minute.
intimacy intimacy, i tell myself
feel my feelings
i've been numb to my ****** feelings
i get all this, but sometimes ****** thoughts and feeling hit me so hard.
i don't know what to do with them, they just mess up my head.
i want serenity.
i want peace.
i want some wisdom in all this.
i am not a monk.
i do not want to be celibate,
but **** I don't want to be overwhelmed either.
For now I am embracing my *** crazed thoughts, but not acting on them.
i am more than my thoughts and feelings.
i am.
Jun 7, 2012
Jun 7, 2012 at 6:46 PM UTC
pen ink smears across
blue-lined pages
made by bearing down with an
unsteady hand that isn't more unstable
than the neurosis of trying to
make words mean more
than they actually do
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC