Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#freud
don’t Freudonize Me— you’re not even My Mother! said Young Man (O)eddie to His much older lover
0
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 4:30 PM UTC
dont Freudonize Me
Your teeth are falling out When you wake with relief Freud asks you, "are they really teeth?" "Or everything you are, crumbling beneath you?" "All of your secrets, tumbling away for all to see?" "What do they REALLY mean?" "They're just teeth" you try to say but how can you speak through empty, bleeding gums
0
Jan 27
Jan 27, 2026 at 5:43 PM UTC
Freud's theory of Dreams
The eternal now is all there is. The river of life is an inward trip. The shadow world is access-able, learn to navigate the eternal flow.
0
Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 9:03 AM UTC
Navigate The Flow
Transformation In following This formula is not Something free. That Unhesitatingly Remarkable Experience is quite usual Through Life alone. Such are The extraordinary creations comparable To unity, Such images Are their origins. There is Meaning in Comparison of The identity Indicated in The formation of Their strangeness.
0
Jun 18, 2025
Jun 18, 2025 at 11:14 AM UTC
Erasure of "On Dreams", Freud
i linger in the tub long after the heat has left i wait until it chills my bones shivers down my spine i linger in the tub tonight bubbles sparsely sit on the surface my pain is slowly unearthing an iceberg, deeper than expected an iceberg, how much i’ve been neglected an iceberg, dive into my tempest an iceberg, the weight of deflection
0
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 5:29 AM UTC
Freudian
Sigismund Schlomo Freud Was strangely not overjoyed On finding his brother In bed with his mother
0
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 5:46 PM UTC
Freud, a Clerihew
By the by, we sit to watch a week end, on television, or your time's equivalent seefar-aparat. Ignoring moon phaze, we count sevens, under the generic mandate of God's Truth. Submitted, bowing low on Friday, next day Chosen, allowed through some revealed loop hole, Called, day three, permitted by grace alone, undeserved or earned, to wrestle with the liar calling war your duty to truth. Long weekends for all, let us contend, we are biding time, occupying our spaces, our bubbles of being, our guiding principles leading us with peaceable nudging, this way… Each cluster of monotheists insists the truth, is for their own protection, a tested faith believed, certain to eliminate each individual fake follower, while allowing holiest of priestly classes work not a whit. Call us the common sort. We less holy plain folk. Each one, each bubble of speaking flesh, given one guide, with constant comforting, this way, in contact face to face with the great weaver of wind and seas. Alerted become, some sense seems to say, lend an ear, hear the conception let loose, precept upon precept, here some, there some, line upon line, thought on thought, each a prayer, an asking, an appraisal of the price prepaid called worth it. On second glance. Having many miles back submitted, bowed low to a teacher who taught that tears are grace, a heart softening remainder from infancy, when we are hard selfish takers, helplessly weeping when confusion topples all balance and we fall into serious wailing, as snotty salty tears wrap us in a core cushioning patience on which pity for innocense rests, self-pity, poor me, weeping prostrate waiting for patience to function before I die. And should we weep for some fool today, seeing his zeal manifest to earn God's grace, by any name, in any mind let be aware that madness defies wisdom. Should we not weep for the liars who taught the child that the wisdom which made us, rewards us for killing other thinkers of the same crazy idea, differing by no means significant to infants? Ever, after time, or before, I've not a clue, yet, now, I do assume we all may, and often do, think wrong, falling so safe within the lie fed us, to make us willing to support the imprisoning of hungry us, by forced mind molds earning the interest on world debt for constant war readiness. Our beloved lease on life is not sublet. Any infant who survives the womb is entitled. Each breather rebreathes, giving back received life. Now, as an interstellar life raft, earth laughs, when the lies about who owns the planet ignor the approaching reaction to imbalance. Free lunches for Gaza, and grassy football fields. Stop hate, abhor the law that calls hate truth's will. Watch truth lift the crippled conscience we share. Make lying anathema, and fearful hateful exclusion laws auto morph into correctible knowledge, each real empath sympathy blossoming soothing all pain in scars nullift, so as we can never bring a helpless child to tears for wars' reasons. When war comes to excuse its expense, I must laugh with life, call war to bring cause, prove worth, sit with first Is-ai-ah, come, let us reason, together. War rises on pride's haunches and calls me the fool, I call pride's worshippers to count the cost. If  you made mankind, wombed and un, for good reason, with a will to power, a will to self control and rights, by Nature, and Nature's spir'tually discernible goodness and power, would you use life of satisfaction, or desparate poverty to teach the art of agape, charity and such? - freedom of speech - say true, no lie. - But why, can we not freely destroy, - can we not freely force children to serve? Better living by global ignorance reduction. If the truth made minds like ours, if the truth its anthropomorphized self, made us pathetically spiritual enough to weep… at the fruited fields cratered by artillery to starve the enemy, back when the strategy, left the scars on generation after generation of poor, outside the class of chosen, by law, which orders outsiders to submit, knowing one's place, hewers of wood, drawers of water, pickers of fruits, plowers of fields, diggers of ditches, washer of dishes and floors, builders of shelters, dismantler of obsolete weapons. Owners and renters, live in peace. Under holy order. Oh, no? Call the message itself a lie, say the truth does hate those who know otherwise. Who holds the pledge for your share in this war debt? When some side wins, whom shall we owe?
0
Oct 27, 2023
Oct 27, 2023 at 1:32 PM UTC
Three said to be Holy days in a row.
By the by, we sit to watch a week end, on television, or your time's equivalent seefar-aparat. Ignoring moon phaze, we count sevens, under the generic mandate of God's Truth. Submitted, bowing low on Friday, next day Chosen, allowed through some revealed loop hole, Called, day three, permitted by grace alone, undeserved or earned, to wrestle with the liar calling war your duty to truth. Long weekends for all, let us contend, we are biding time, occupying our spaces, our bubbles of being, our guiding principles leading us with peaceable nudging, this way… Each cluster of monotheists insists the truth, is for their own protection, a tested faith believed, certain to eliminate each individual fake follower, while allowing holiest of priestly classes work not a whit. Call us the common sort. We less holy plain folk. Each one, each bubble of speaking flesh, given one guide, with constant comforting, this way, in contact face to face with the great weaver of wind and seas. Alerted become, some sense seems to say, lend an ear, hear the conception let loose, precept upon precept, here some, there some, line upon line, thought on thought, each a prayer, an asking, an appraisal of the price prepaid called worth it. On second glance. Having many miles back submitted, bowed low to a teacher who taught that tears are grace, a heart softening remainder from infancy, when we are hard selfish takers, helplessly weeping when confusion topples all balance and we fall into serious wailing, as snotty salty tears wrap us in a core cushioning patience on which pity for innocense rests, self-pity, poor me, weeping prostrate waiting for patience to function before I die. And should we weep for some fool today, seeing his zeal manifest to earn God's grace, by any name, in any mind let be aware that madness defies wisdom. Should we not weep for the liars who taught the child that the wisdom which made us, rewards us for killing other thinkers of the same crazy idea, differing by no means significant to infants? Ever, after time, or before, I've not a clue, yet, now, I do assume we all may, and often do, think wrong, falling so safe within the lie fed us, to make us willing to support the imprisoning of hungry us, by forced mind molds earning the interest on world debt for constant war readiness. Our beloved lease on life is not sublet. Any infant who survives the womb is entitled. Each breather rebreathes, giving back received life. Now, as an interstellar life raft, earth laughs, when the lies about who owns the planet ignor the approaching reaction to imbalance. Free lunches for Gaza, and grassy football fields. Stop hate, abhor the law that calls hate truth's will. Watch truth lift the crippled conscience we share. Make lying anathema, and fearful hateful exclusion laws auto morph into correctible knowledge, each real empath sympathy blossoming soothing all pain in scars nullift, so as we can never bring a helpless child to tears for wars' reasons. When war comes to excuse its expense, I must laugh with life, call war to bring cause, prove worth, sit with first Is-ai-ah, come, let us reason, together. War rises on pride's haunches and calls me the fool, I call pride's worshippers to count the cost. If  you made mankind, wombed and un, for good reason, with a will to power, a will to self control and rights, by Nature, and Nature's spir'tually discernible goodness and power, would you use life of satisfaction, or desparate poverty to teach the art of agape, charity and such? - freedom of speech - say true, no lie. - But why, can we not freely destroy, - can we not freely force children to serve? Better living by global ignorance reduction. If the truth made minds like ours, if the truth its anthropomorphized self, made us pathetically spiritual enough to weep… at the fruited fields cratered by artillery to starve the enemy, back when the strategy, left the scars on generation after generation of poor, outside the class of chosen, by law, which orders outsiders to submit, knowing one's place, hewers of wood, drawers of water, pickers of fruits, plowers of fields, diggers of ditches, washer of dishes and floors, builders of shelters, dismantler of obsolete weapons. Owners and renters, live in peace. Under holy order. Oh, no? Call the message itself a lie, say the truth does hate those who know otherwise. Who holds the pledge for your share in this war debt? When some side wins, whom shall we owe?
Continue reading...
106
Hast thou found honey? Eat so much as is good for thee, thinking moderation then, success. Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying? Child mind alerts, perks up its ear, single minds have single ears, child mind focus state, un monitored you, recall, child minding your own business walking in the road. Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first, did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up? Child mind cocked sure, I know. We are all an alien probe learning the questions. Each letter holds an American English phonic response… and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture. --selah, also means let it rest The precedent for a post temple social order arose, and the minds required for that task arose as well, but as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes, cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull. Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans… tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion, remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny? Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like a child's mind, pedo-meter counting steps away, flee the birthing trauma, do the dying well. Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there, death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.
0
Oct 19, 2023
Oct 19, 2023 at 1:09 PM UTC
Rank Analysis at the edge of autolysis
Hello July! You are lingering in the middle. Where a story starts -In medias res- Then goes back to cruel January, And forth to callous December. Fort/da. You’re standing here: Bewildered- Between cruelty and callousness To celebrate A joyful moment In Between.
0
Jun 29, 2023
Jun 29, 2023 at 4:31 PM UTC
In Medias Res
When all else is without taste The elixir of symbols Are words that flow Flow with a whiff of perfume Crystallise with  sense of purpose Taunted by the science of our future Elevating the taste to that of a myth Fulfilling a creation of our own Spilling over into our inner space
0
Aug 7, 2022
Aug 7, 2022 at 9:27 AM UTC
Drinking from the streams of poets
A cup of coffee so hot it burns my tongue. I like it, gives a kick An opened book on Freud laid out on the table so I’d seem More cultured, educated A joint in my hand as I inhale the smoke with the petrichor sneaking in from outside A sense of calmness in this chaotic world somehow soothes me
0
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 3:02 PM UTC
Calmness comes After The rain
Down the drain into the world Let the traumas begin In my shadow In my fears I am sin Integrate me Or disassociate me Sanity’s at stake Read some Freud or Carl Jung When you wake and bake 🙏
0
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 6:51 AM UTC
Traumatic Birth
Big Bang of aesthetics Cognitive creative thoughts The universe is expanding With thee inertia of the god ........................................
0
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
Absolute Truth
Hunger hurts. I have hunger pains. Last night in a dream I murdered my mother. What to do with tenacious voracity? Uncalm, I wait. Breathing.
0
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 4:18 PM UTC
Words After Waking July 25th 2020
The drive is endless, perilous, and being recorded for posterity, because one planet is no longer enough. H.P. Lovecraft is at the wheel, and we're looking at one thing and not your mother. That was a Freudian slip, but not really surprising since he's also along for the ride. And when we get there we'll scavenge for sovereignty in the orange filter of hope. Then a flag will mark our demesne, a spot defining both pride & terror, as it delivers a dose of ambition, yet, reeks of future tyranny. Pray our luck runs out along the way or we run out of gas or steam or headway... Then again, maybe we should hope for the breast. I mean best ! Freud's at it again.
0
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 5:27 PM UTC
Carpooling to Mars
The chains of life slowly drifting, As the spirit melts away, As the tide is ever shifting, Swallowing the light of day. Rigor of the body swaying, To a tune that Hades hums, Two coins, and no more pain, River Styx will fill my lungs. Horror of rejection fading, As my past loves turn to dust, I'll go with you, silent, praying, I will forego earthly lust. Sanity completely leaving, Echoes call me to the void, Things are seldom worth believing, I'm so sorry doctor Freud.
0
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 1:00 AM UTC
Thanatos
Is it the possibility of Some unforeseen yet magical disappearance or Of it being Loped off That makes one so very aware? Erections must give great reassurance Yes! It is I I am here I am still here Freud says that women want one That they look down and see barren flatness and one fine line instead of a mounting glory A majestic rod But I think perhaps Freud is more afraid of losing his Would that make him a woman? I think not. She is not on the right side of the minus sign. It must be a perpetual Existential terror The possible fate of Bobbitt the Marine Having one’s sliced off and Thrown over the roof into the tall grass Where the cops won’t go unless the dogs go first It’s so easy to do Look it’s Mr. No ***** One must understand this From a very early age And what of the consequences? Shall we build effigies everywhere Living spaces and statues And talk about them all the time And never learn how to get the stream into the bowl?
0
Jul 1, 2019
Jul 1, 2019 at 5:57 PM UTC
Lorena
The continued repression of the id's desired pleasure Will lead to the death of some poor son-of-a-bitch
0
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 6:18 PM UTC
Frustration
There is a BOX with many moving parts It is a GAME The object of the game is to move the parts in such a way that all shapes and colours align in perfect ORDER Every time you move one piece all other pieces move in response Creating ORDER in one corner destroys it in another Removing TENSION in one place creates it in another It is an IMPOSSIBLE game The game is called LIFE Its purpose is to seek order The way to ENJOY it is to appreciate DISORDER
0
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 10:07 AM UTC
A game called life
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Continue reading...
47