"manical" poems
I am dysfunctional
A jumbled up bag of puzzle pieces that never fit together
An astronaut spiraling endlessly forever
Major Tom watching on
His suited flailing clown
My mental health is an elevator that only seems to go further down
A rabbit hole neverending heading to my dysfunctional peers
Mad hatter grilling his eyeballs to a perfect sear
Nothing but manical laughs to hear
Nothing to doubt and nothing to fear
Nothing but insanity and gloomy clouds, no day is clear
I am dysfunctional
Yet none of these puzzle pieces seem to fit anywhere but here
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
It is a constant pressure underneath my breastbone
That whispers evil at all hours of the day
'I could rip the life from a human without remorse'
'I could bleed them out with a smile on my face'
It is an unending notion in every corner of my brain
That, had I the motivation, I would immediately claim
'I could ingest a deadly concoction and disappear in a second'
'I could enact any complicated process that ends with me slain'
It is a nightly terror that follow me through daybreak
That renders me speechless with both fear and liberation
'I could let go of control and forget about mere consequence'
'I could finally allow my brain to drown in this sensation'
Homicidal. Suicidial. Manical.
I exercise control against these urges.
Massacre. Exhaustion. Insanity.
I wonder when I will forget this.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
it appears as though
there was a coup,
in kookaburra land,
this morning.
much fuss,
and cacophony.
as the brown and blue kingfisher clan, reassembled,
their royal court.
the big old king,
uncurled his talons,
unfurled his wings,
gave one last,
manical chuckle....
and fell from his perch.
to lie still,
upon the dusty,
brown earth.
shocked, silence for some seconds, and then...
the eucalypts erupted into, (what would appear to the outsider);
cold calculating mirth.
as the young jacko princes, all began the joking joust
for the top place berth.
in a melee of swooping, chuckling grace,
a contest no less,
set to test....
mettle, worth and cackle call.
each young bird,
takes to the wing and flies into the maddening...and how close,
how loud,
how startling,
they can be.
is made known,
by those,
whose years,
have flown.
when all, is said and done. tourney overflown,
feathers are preened.
then the winner
is presented,
with opportunity, bold....
to nest the queen.
as to the rest,
they take their place,
in the chaotic, cackling, cacophonous,
kookabuurra clan nests.
to bide their time,
until, the next coup,
comes calling...
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
YOU SAID YOU WERE GONNA TEACH ME A FEW THINGS
YOU TAUGHT ME
HOW TO SCREAM
HOW TO HURT
HOW TO HIDE THE BRUISES
THEN YOU TAUGHT ME MORE
HOW TO LIE
HOW TO CUSS
HOW TO HIDE THE PAIN
YOU TAUGHT ME HOW IT FEELS
WHEN YOU LIE
WHEN YOU CHEAT
WHEN YOU BEAT
WHEN YOU DENY
WELL I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR
MANICAL TEACHINGS
IT'S TIME FOR ME TO TEACH YOU SOMETHING TOO
HOW IT FEELS
TO LIE TO YOU
TO CHEAT ON YOU
TO FEEL PAIN
HOW IT FEELS
TO WATCH ME WALK OUT THAT DOOR
AND NOT LOOK BACK
HOWS IT FEEL NOW
FIND ANOTHER ***** "BUDDY"
YOU TAUGHT ME TO WELL
YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO LEAVE YOUR ***
DON'T EVER FORGET YOU TAUGHT ME WELL!!!
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
Sometimes I can almost hear your laughter, manical and alive. I think perhaps its what I miss most. If I could go back, I would stay and fight. I would say all the words I wish I could now. I wouldn't let you go.
**** you for teaching me the biggest lesson I've ever learned.
(Thank you for teaching me the biggest lesson I've ever learned. )
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 11:35 PM UTC