"normals" poems
What we have is nuts, crazy, mad
But it's just that
I like to laugh instead of being sad
I like to giggle so people know I'm not that bad
Mr.J knows that
He gets what they don't
He sees what they wouldn't
When I'm with him I feel warm
Not alone
I'm damaged but so is he
I find it hard to manage
But not with him
You see?
Do you see he just gets me?
My 'Puddin makes me happy
Even tho I'm the baddest bady
We're meant to be
Sometime we paint white roses red
Each shade from a different person head
Don't look at me
Or you'll lay in your dead bed
Don't dream
Dream is a killer sometimes we get drunk with a blue caterpillar
He's peeling the skin of my face
Cause I really hate being safe
The normals they make me afraid
The crazies they make me feels safe
I'm nuts baby I'm mad
The craziest friend that you ever had
You think I'm ******
You think I'm gone
Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong
Over the bend entirely bonkers
He likes me best when I'm of my rocker
Tell you a secret I'm not alarmed
So what if I'm crazy... all the best people are
He thinks I'm crazy
He thinks I'm gone
I think he's crazy to
I know he's gone
That's probably the reason that we get along
Dec 3, 2016
Dec 3, 2016 at 5:11 AM UTC
I opened an email today. I was told of how I must look "Good" in order to be "Taken Seriously" or "If People wish to Even Take You At All."
Like David Copperfield, The Caged Tiger, and The Joker.
Placed in "One Big Finale." The "Entertainment" of this "Show" had started.
The Joker was not like all the rest. He became evil by being outcast,since youth, into adulthood; for scars that were not of his own doing.
He decided to "Pay Back" The "Normals" in one big "Contest to Win The right To Live and Not for the Tiger to have your "Pretty Little Faces to Maw."
David Copperfield thought he could Escape and to "Save everyone's day" "From the scared up ugly which had made "His own choice to become Evil."
As the judges took their seats, the contest was about to begin.
A puff of smoke, some mirrored tricks, and a flashed destraction and David thought he was "Home Free."
Grabbing for the form in the clouds he thought was the "Joker," he grasped for the capture.
"Poor Magic Boy!" - The Joker sneered as he took his place at the start. To grab some finally deserved spot light and a chance to **** an "Animal with Color that isn't Very Hard to Use for David's Adventures."
Whipping at the beast and working in a wooden chair, finally the Tiger Spoke Out.
"Why must you Human's Use me as a prop? A
Defined Addition as People's Property?"
"Why So Serious? You've got your fame, as Magic Boy's Lackey!"
Swiping the Joker to the ground with one strong whip of his front left paw, he knocked out the Joker, but, he never killed him.
Busting out the door, running for the Jungle.
Words were understood as the "Prop Animal" ran for his freedom.
"What makes me different, Makes Me Strong. I survive not only because of my 'Animal Survival Instincts,' however, the faith and determination to fight for my rights to be true to who and what I am and to be free."
"Free to rule My Own Earned thrown in my Rule in my very own Kingdom."
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
I'm peeling the skin off my face
Because I really hate being safe
The normals, they make me afraid
The crazies, they make me feel sane
I'm insane, maybe , I'm mad,
The craziest friend that you've ever had,
You think I'm ****** you think I'm gone,
Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong,
You said I was " Over the bend, entirely bonkers"
You like me best when I'm off my rocker
So I'll Tell you a secret, I'm not alarmed
So what if I'm crazy? The best people are
Where is my prescription?
Doctor, doctor please listen
My brain is scattered
You can be Alice,
I'll be the mad hatter.
You'll try to lock me up,
And tell me to keep my mouth shut,
These visions that I'm seeing are slowly but surely decreasing.
I see a man with yellow eyes,
He's scratching at his own face,
He tells me to run but I know they'll try to chase.
So I stay locked up,
Kept quiet and buckle up,
For the next therapy session,
Where they'll tell me I'm crazy with discretion.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
I have sons spread around the world
birthed by different girls
foundation built in my arms.
recognition of the need of men
of the Love of a woman,
for a woman to guide his heart,
to open his eyes to his start.
she whispered,
the power of the son.
he is of she, penetrates the sea
and births anew.
she the prototype, the official
original, the womb.
woman, her scent alarms the masses.
and we scream now.
we scream and we cry
we live in angst in our homes,
our men are concerned.
yet our pheromones sense things,
weather and other perturbations.
mothers voice in the heart of her children,
daughters tend to stay closer to home.
women, we hear the call!
as we quiet our longing drawl,
the pull we feel to somewhere, we know not of
a place beyond the beauty of our eyes,
we know,
we remember,
our requirements as a creator.
ours, the power of the reflection
of the full moon,
the trees dance in the monthly celebration,
though in the desert, I've seen a few
who,
when the moon is too full,
too reflective of its presence,
they fold to hide from the light.
knowing whats best for themselves, I trust.
I just can't help but to choose to stand
with Her.
stand in Her light, my mouth
opens for the gift.
the thirst quenched.
head tilted back, think of
the men of the world.
if I could just hug them.
as Ms Badu claims
I bet you LOVE can make it better …
I bet too.
I bet I can heal you.
open your heart, peal the bitter,
drain the water, raise the alter.
praise the lover, embrace as a Mother.
pour into the builder, the sender.
release his true endeavors.
release the tension in his body,
helping him to know
mind over matter.
plugging him into the true
creative power
of his *** his gift of Love,
of his body penetrating another.
what his self is communicating,
what his seed is sprouting.
he needs our healing.
his heart is calling, and he's stomping around
like a little boy! I have sons, they stomp around…
they need mommys love,
mommys extra love.
she, calls us to her sons.
new normals, open our hearts
health always to follow.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 4:12 AM UTC
Thank you
Little boy with a bit of hope
Just a bit ...
Everybody knows
Dreams filled his teeny tiny mind
Creating imaginations of different kind
Doesn't really understand what other says
Enjoying life with a blurry mess
Been a friend to a weak fragile girl
Her tears were catch for it seems to hurl
Fakes in those times were epidemic
Lucky for her, he doesn't know how to mimic
They'd grown and grown as time passed by
Created memories they'll remember for life
Not only memories but also dreams
Dreams where both of them can be seen
But the boy seemed to loose it
A news from a far seems to hurt him
A pain that normals can't contain
But he knows how to keep it restrained
Not even a hint ...
The girl knows nothing
Until one day
Struggles hit the girl
Weak and fragile
but, learning from him,
Tried to be strong and also restrained
The day ended
And, as usual
The girl and the boy, they both parted ways
Saying goodbye but they know they'll meet again someday
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 5:48 AM UTC
In the dark
The english roses
Number the stars
//
The infinite sea
(Of) the other normals
Falling into place
//
After we fell
Fifty shades darker
Ten tiny breaths
Four seconds to lose
//
On such a full sea
The echo maker
Decoded
The narrow road to the deep north
//
Farther away
Legends of literature
(Made) memories
(And) collected poems
//
The little prince
Burned
The beast
The year I met you
//
One hundred names
The ten-year nap
This is my life
//
Save me
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 5:38 AM UTC
i feel the pain of judgement,
i feel the burning eyes of the "normals",
i feel abandoned,
i feel as if no one likes me,
as if I just don't belong,
i have a few friends and that's all,
i'm the ******
homeschooled and apparently homeschoolers have no friends,
that's what they all think,
i miss my home,
my friends,
my old life,
i hate technology sometimes!
it's a wall between real people,
even with "friends" people are on their phones talking to people they aren't with!
they don't talk with the people that are standing right there!!
why can't this generation be different?
why can't we all just talk,
really,
really talk,
i want this so badly,
i've been on the outside for so long,
and it's because people are scared,
and stupid,
they can't see what's right in their face,
they can't see that i'm hurting alone,
alone with my hurting soul.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
I live for the lack of control amongst the discorded intervals
the hollow notes that make my stomach drop
the pull of the crazy
the fire of the insane
all of the invisible cogs that secretly keep everything together
the things that don't make sense to the normals
are the only things that make any kind of sense to me
my life being ever only made up with fleeting moments
integrating chances
terrifying choices
not one to be scared so easily
yet hiding from the monsters in my head
perhaps the reason why
I make so many cry
while never expecting anyone to care
I can ask you a million times
while everything around me changes
the whirlwind of my jagged jigsaw pieces
blurry compared to your still waters
the leaves of your trees not even rustling
I have never known just what it is that I should do
when it comes to you or the things you try to prove
you can run
this will be fun
it has been so very long since I've found something worthy to chase after.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
i’m lost without you, did i mention that?
i scrape my brain cells that hold the memory of you
the way you remove dead flesh from a heel
and i keep the skin cells in tiny glass jars like portable museums.
i carry them everywhere for emergencies
opening them up at dinner parties
while the normals are concentrating on the cooking method of a spatchcock.
i pull you out from my secret purse
hidden under socially self conscious tables
and i roll your flesh in my hands until you’re real again
while nodding in agreement that thyme and lemon jus is always a wise choice for a side.
it’s a stupid ritual really
one that serves only to widen the divide between me
and that big chance Buddha moment:
‘being ******* present’
such a noble pursuit
but always dull and motionless in your absence
all i notice is the loudness of our silence
like a train station in those quiet despair hours
between 11pm and tomorrow.
Btw, if you see a girl running that’s me
and i can assure you
it will be from this chance for godhood
and what all those new agers chant about.
* the now *
god i hate that cruel catch phrase
that middle finger of platitudes
forcing its sobering focus
on the inescapable fact that all your critical choices
made on a whim
appearing now as regrettably dumb.
Like that flippant goodbye i threw around at you
as if i would ever feel that way again
about anyone
and no
I never did.
you see, my heart’s a cowboy
too foolhardy with the lasso
that hip gun too
always going off
especially each time you’re not in view.
Did i tell you you i’m lost without you?
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:28 AM UTC
To dance alone in the dark
Drinking aged tears
Pretending mortality
Living on dreams
The wish of Cass's courage
And I've none
Blades call, no?
Mine's clean
The shine of it calls me
I'm alone
I don't wish to be
But really I do
Rain pours on my rubber roof
Is it pleasant,
to watch?
Violence is ********
For the "normals"
and I'm not
Insanity,
my mother
Darkness,
my maker
Love,
Is insanity
Over and over we try
same patterns
same results
But all,
For LOVE
and the lie of it
And poetry
is my shining blade
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 12:45 AM UTC
"Sleep when you're dead",
"Oh come on, liven up",
"What?? Nooo, please come",
"One two three drink!!",
"Snap out of it!",
"What's wrong this time??",
These and more, are phrases used by you "normal" people, in a ploy to entrance us very special, very unique, very very awesome people who have a condition known as depression.....
We'll sleep when we want to,
We'll liven up when our brain chemicals allow us to,
We'll come along when, or if we have the confidence to,
Don't.. Don't ever tell us to do that,
And, what's wrong?, if you knew us at ALL, you'd refrain from asking that question!,
Think on normals, we have feelings ya know!
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 3:12 PM UTC
half of the teenagers I know
make art, and songs, and
poetry just to lash back
at the things they don’t like
in the world
complaining about their friends, or
rebelling against their parents, or
crying about how unfair everything
is
and the stupid ones,
the really stupid ones,
call someone out in
their work
but it’s not just the idiots.
the geniuses, the logicians,
the thinkers, the wise-childs,
the high-school cool kids,
the suicidal geeks, the god-
driven outcasts, the losers
too fat or too weird to hang
out with the “normals”
anyone.
anyone,
who makes any
sort of art,
has done
it.
and they feel stupid,
really, really, stupid
when the person finds
out and the **** hits
the fan and everybody
is on everybody’s side
and nobody’s evil while
everybody’s the bad
guy and it’s funny if
you’re lucky enough
to be outside of it
all
so just like every
stupid habit of man
(like love, and hope,
and destiny)
we cling and repeat,
and rinse and redo,
and keep writing
poems about people
we hate without
saying their name
and instead,
screaming
it
I grin at those
who get this
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 5:26 PM UTC
***** Wonka's ***** is wonky,
I wanted to write it down
But I didn't bring my pren.
He tried to hand me one,
I said, "Not now, we're in the car."
She burst out laughing.
Poking the booth.
Hole. Hole. Hole.
he said, "no, it's not big enough."
And she always likes to be the Devil's
abst, abti, avsti, avocate.
The conversation tries to continue on
while I cry,
"Stop! I have to write this down!
Hand me the pren."
He asks if I'm going to include:
"Front hole so happy, back hole sing song."
I don't know, maybe,
and yet I have.
He needs to see "The Exorcist",
the movie, not the person.
I offered to exorcise him, if he needed it -
"Baby."
but he hasn't eaten any split pea soup recently
so I don't see the need.
The smoke crowds around him,
the one who doesn't practice the cancer stick mojo,
and she says,
"Just say - I hate rabbits."
"What?"
"I hate rabbits, it makes the smoke go away."
"I hate rabbits."
The second hand cloud disappears.
"See?"
"You're not normal."
She laughs and replies that it's
the normals you have to watch out for.
She and I decided to write a letter to
Destiny,
relaying that
no matter how hard we try to convince him,
he does not believe in her existence.
However,
Nobody expects the
Spanish Inquisition.
May 12, 2010
May 12, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
Don't be a ***** girl
Why so sensitive?
You're not your mother's daughter, that's for **** certain,
Yes definitely your father's, that poor old Sod.
That movie screen is not reality,
Dry your God **** eyes.
Spill the tears for true tragedies,
The ones that relate directly to You,
Me--
Why, which ones?
The ones I say so, of course, the ones I deem most worthy.
The ones the Normals react to. The tragedies of our own.
Why weep for the sake of others? They are not Us, nor we Them.
Save the river in your heart
For the things that truly matter.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
What if all those insane people are the normals
and we are the crazy ones.
He was going round and round
walking in circles throughout the haunted hall
with millions of thoughts roaming his mind
He was stuttering and screaming
with dull, fading paint coloring whites and blacks
He was going crazy right in front of my eyes
and I was struggling trying to stop my tears
I hugged him with all my might and begged him to stop
I watched my brother becoming cracked and losing his mind
...watching in silence with painful cries...
I helplessly lost him in a super-massive black hole with no return
it was the insanity of a never-ending celestial dance
and I am sure my turn is coming soon.
We are the Eccentrics existing in a world of borders.
We are walking on margins; fighting our masked shadows.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
Like a 1969 poetic hippy on haight-ashbury street,
Mine pen is another san-franciscan song
Making another poetic beat....
Bump
Bop bop
Bump
Bop pa tee bop
Bump
Bop bop
Bump
Bop pa tee bop....
Playing that spiritual poetic sound........
Wearing flower's in mine hair
Is something the normals
Couldst not understand!
About a free spirited poetic as me...
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
I live in this box of pain
Nothing to see or feel
Embraced by sanctity,
driven by sorrow
Enclosed inside
by life's uncertainties
Taken out of society
by guilt and solitude
You say I am broken,
battered and confused
but it is you,
the normals of mankind
You do not set the rules
of what is right or wrong
You do not tell me
I am the idiot one
For you
are not the ruler of lives
For you
do not control my thoughts
For you
will not get inside me
For you
are not a human being
My pain does not
come from any one thing
It is a multitude
of uncontrollable events
Events that
impact my life not yours
Unseized pressure
from the unconscious world
Pressure that places
the horror of the world in front of us all
Placed there by you
and society's real crazies
This box of pain
will not control me
I will open it
and be stronger than you
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
Our lives are like a comedy series
From the 90's and classic recorded cackles,
Black and white screen tickle our fantasies,
Autumn patters deliver chortles
A box of popcorn
And a ticket to be seen,
The audience inpact overjoyed
To each hilarious scene,
Signature idle of Charlie Chaplin
History remained into our brains,
'Till the thick red curtains are finally falling
Bows and gertures
Do not mess with thr jesters
Because if you do,
They will give you bullets of chapters,
Of laughing,
Laughing,
And laughing
Think thrice, why do you collect these mixtapes?
Zodiac's sunflower suddenly became cozy
Most of the time the crazies,
Make you feel sane
And the normals,
Could make you crazy,
Or worse
Cutting our mourns,
Then savour the sweet devour
During depression—
Then soon,
Came the after laughters,
Laughing,
And giggling,
And laughing
Happy Gum-ball machine
Rainbow Russian roulette
Delighted condolences
May or rather be an insult
Not all 'after laughters' end up—
With good results
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
Carefully you cut my hair.
The fingers of your hands slid through the blanket of my head.
I looked at your eyes.
Filled with such focus and concentration.
Afraid to talk I tie a knot with my fingers.
Afraid to talk, I made excuses.
Afraid to talk, I tap my foot.
Yet when I opened up.
You revealed to me the normals of your life.
But really a surprise to this life of mine.
Fellow hairdresser, as I sit in the chair.
carefully cutting my hair.
With a scissor on his wrinkled hands.
Maybe I should be more open.
But I should stay closed sometimes.
Like maybe...a half-opened door...
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
the walls of her fortress
dripping with sage
knowledge
centuries old
empty of rage
her gut, a tortured field
often ablaze
truth lies there
while battles were waged
kitchen of flowers
table a maze
lovers look across
not knowing each's gaze
moments of crime
passion betrayed
within the lives of the "normals"
they laughed as they lay
bedridden with *** long slow daze
south fly the geese, crows never go away
the sparrow calls morning
the owl flies today
blocks of comfort, boxed and weighed.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 11:19 AM UTC
She awakens from her slumber
in December… days before winter.
una siesta corta.
perhaps a new normal
arrivals of color and buds
preparing for spring,
bubbling with excitement
perhaps confusion.
more likely a form of
adaptation. perhaps it will take
us longest to adapt.
She awakens to a streaked sky
clouds of new normals
that funnel and vanish
before your very eyes.
causing me to think, I'm losing my vision.
but they actually vanish before your eyes.
I've been watching clouds for
a while now… perhaps a new normal.
She awakens to new smells
senses chemical reactions in the air
that may be confusing her.
or they themselves
are changing her climate.
producing new mixtures,
the chemistry lessons of space.
I wonder what the trees
in the desert are experiencing.
is the Mesquite wrestling
with whether or not
to send that energy to her leaves,
wondering if her dears need her seeds.
I wonder what our friend thinks,
and I see what she wanted me to see.
the energy of the populace
continues to fade
so my sensing keeps improving.
She's waking up here…
I welcome her presence,
always.
this is not a poem
of discontent.
yet a message through my
sense, as it grows,
I just need to get this up off my chest!
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
All seems well at first glance
What is hidden beneath may not surprise you
The mellow compromise between life and nature
Leaves me uneasy despite how I appear
Where there is life there is pain
Exiled to the same fate as our enemies slain
A fate where we can run but there is a wall
A barrier barred with hope that there is a greater cause
One to live for, die for, and put everything else before
But where to look?
Where can we find our purpose
Our shield to stand behind
The grail of passion and selflessness in matrimony
A joy that could leave us at peace within
Alas, if we knew what that might be
Then these thoughts never arise
All seems to be well
Our false shroud of security that we depend on
Torn away by the knife of desire and temptation
Cutting deep into our soul
Making us act out beyond our will
We must resist this overwhelming power
But we must never cower from our problems
So buckle up and wrestle them head on
With our honor which keeps us on our feet
And loyalty to ensure we don’t back down
These internal battles leave scars proudly displayed
By our character and our right to be free
Our enemies see the battlefield and are left in dismay
They will be back, as long as greed exists
A man will take another down just to be on top
But for now we take rest
And indulge in the luxuries plundered from the spoils of war
Eventually we pass it on to the next generation
Reaching revelation of what to do is still the ultimate goal
But I fear this cannot be reached by normals means
The mystery of not knowing left onto us
Hope, the strongest element of human soul
Runs rampant with no leash big enough to withhold
And as we grow old the young should know that
Life is not an endless well, rather an untouched sandbox
Alas, all is well
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC