"saner" poems
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you,
something stronger, more intelligent,
more evil, more kind, more durable,
something bigger, something better,
something worse, something with
eyes like the tiger, jaws like the shark,
something crazier than crazy,
saner than sane,
there is always something or somebody
waiting for you
as you put on your shoes
or as you sleep
or as you empty a garbage can
or pet your cat
or brush your teeth
or celebrate a holiday
there is always somebody or something
waiting for you.
keep this fully in mind
so that when it happens
you will be as ready as possible.
meanwhile, a good day to
you
if you are still there.
I think that I am---
I just burnt my fingers on
this
cigarette.
76k
I was born on November 30th , I hear that makes me a Saggitarius.
I dunno what that means.
I know how to swim, and I'm a sucker for a guy with a nice smile
And nice words.
I'm still learning how to whisper sweet nothings
I'm often loud at times when I should be quiet
I'm often quiet at times when I should be loud
I keep holding back or letting it all out at the wrong time.
I like sweet drinks... a lot.
I've been told that I give pretty bad hugs
People say that it feels like I'm trying to escape
Well I don't like letting people close.
Especially close enough to hear me breathe.
I have this odd fascination with things like time machines and technology,
I assume it's because I like to figure out how things work and fix them.
Am the same way with people, like to know what's coming before it does.
Love usually lasts a few moments,
That's also why I tend to fall in love with men
Who would never love me back
I know it sounds crazy, but it's actually much saner than it seems
And to be honest, I think it's safer that way
See relationships, they often remind me that I'm not afraid of letting go.
But I'm scared of what's gonna happen
The moment that my body hits the ground
I'm clumsy. I usually trip when am following my feelings.
I landed on my pride and it shattered like a mirror i check daily.
Now I can't even tell who's trying to give me a compliment
or just trying to get into my pants.
I've never been into martial arts but I have all these bruises,
I got from beating myself up over things I can't fix
I know it sounds weird but sometimes,
I wonder what the voices in my head say when am asleep.
I wonder what the doors would do if they found out
About all the things that I've done when they are closed.
I've got a trash can that's overflowing with really, really obnoxious mistakes
And a dump site in my closet with all the skeletons.
You'll trap me in a corner and insist I get help.
Hi, my name is Em,
I enjoy ice cream and yoghurt, people watching
And figuring out how to make them work.
I allow myself to cry more than I need to,
from letting all the wrong people in.
I have solar-powered energy, I have a battery-operated heart,
It flickers and dies from overuse.
My hobbies include rewriting my life story, hiding behind poems,
And trying to convince myself that I do matter to someone.
I don't know much, but I do know this
I know that if you don't have standards,
you won't be treated right and be happy.
I know God is still reworking my faults and flaws,
I'm a unique work in progress.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
I have a heart
made to adore
juvenile fantasies,
despite modern tragedies.
In moments of madness
when modern photography
presents to me
the horrors of humanity
I can engage for a minute
and escape the insanity
in the comics
that carry super hero forms.
When I see bombs
that blister skin
till flesh bursts
revealing red disfigurement
I can travel in
my own mental
compartment
to escape this.
I can revisit
Winnie the pooh
or review the crew
of “Star Trek
The Next Generation.”
When mind numbing poverty
rears its sad faces at me,
with stranger’s eyes
and thin lips quivering
in lonely desperation,
despite my empathy
I have a gift for escaping
the irrationality
of human suffering.
I just sip the soft brew
of nostalgia for old cartoons
recalling a slightly saner time,
when all the sorrows
were only mine,
when I ached
with a mother’s fury
but tv shows saw me distracted
the fact is
I have been escaping
my whole life,
and I don’t see
that changing.
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
*That crazy look in her eyes suits to his mood so well,
he yearns for off beat paths and forgets saner ways of doing things.
an attraction beyond logic springs, based on needs unusual,
when they resonate perfectly, words hibernate, they dissolve in each other*
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
Rendered offenses
Sweat in the opinion, sakes
And due attention, to reason amends
Acting only a little saner, the stark stare a host makes...
Do you notice, evermore?
Anyway, the truth we prepose of...
Has a callous beginning, too sore
For a challenge of wisdom, that even does?
Prayers of dour anger...
For the aspire and means we favor
With a realm to a touch, tough knowing you and life's danger...
The reality of another fight, with sin as the futures flavor?
Speed has a question, dwindling in the wind
Suspect days, to redoubt and list the scope of an argument
That has the silence we afforded it, to keep the shadows of kin
Proper is as proper had, the hush of simple tomorrows, a problem to relent...
Toward sharing, the taste of a hoping kiss...?
That when recognized, sympathy is an answer; only a heed can tell...
The prayer of estrangement, has become a chastity's wish
Will a savior in love, know the better of kindness; here's your hell...
With a baring lip, that has suggested a toothsome reply to quips
And hearts to accept the solace of terror, a harrowing finish to past lies...?
That began and ended with a promise found in the bolting and gray wits
Of a dread simplicity, still running to wisdom's charity, which requited...
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 8:55 PM UTC
That night your great guns, unawares,
Shook all our coffins as we lay,
And broke the chancel window-squares,
We thought it was the Judgement-day
And sat upright. While drearisome
Arose the howl of wakened hounds:
The mouse let fall the altar-crumb,
The worm drew back into the mounds,
The glebe cow drooled. Till God cried, “No;
It’s gunnery practice out at sea
Just as before you went below;
The world is as it used to be:
“All nations striving strong to make
Red war yet redder. Mad as hatters
They do no more for Christés sake
Than you who are helpless in such matters.
“That this is not the judgment-hour
For some of them’s a blessed thing,
For if it were they’d have to scour
Hell’s floor for so much threatening. . . .
“Ha, ha. It will be warmer when
I blow the trumpet (if indeed
I ever do; for you are men,
And rest eternal sorely need).”
So down we lay again. “I wonder,
Will the world ever saner be,”
Said one, “than when He sent us under
In our indifferent century!”
And many a skeleton shook his head.
“Instead of preaching forty year,”
My neighbour Parson Thirdly said,
“I wish I had stuck to pipes and beer.”
Again the guns disturbed the hour,
Roaring their readiness to avenge,
As far inland as Stourton Tower,
And Camelot, and starlit Stonehenge.
2.5k
Have you heard about old Erik Satie?
He was quite slim and not un fatti;
Son père was a Frog, his Ma a wee ****
(which must have given quite a shock
to his musical chums at the Conservatoire
where he wrote "Trois morceaux en forme de poire").
While sitting 'au piano' one fine day
At his Honfleur home so bright and gay,
Our Erik felt himself come over queer,
(le résultat triste de beaucoup de bière).
He hadn't felt so odd since he didn't know when
(that's when he wrote his "Gnossiennes").
Now I don't want you to think Erik was bent
That certainly wasn't what I meant;
But there's no doubt he was a little odd
(indeed many called him an asexual sod);
For, although French, he loved not the ladies
(and he also wrote three nice "Gymnopédies").
Many piano pieces which Satie penned
Are rather silly and round the bend;
One was called "Prélude for a Dog"
(which he wrote whilst sur le bogue);
Perhaps his best known work is called "Parade"
Which some people think is quite avant-garde.
He was a bit ***** and collected umbrellas
Which set him apart from saner fellers;
He had lots of velvet suits to his name
(and for some reason, they all looked the same).
But he over-did it on the ***** was often ******
Thus he died prematurely, and is sorely missed.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
My words now float
up
to space
and then down to you
in a digital prayer, while
my flesh streaks
down
I-5 with grass seeds
in my hair
and paint on my face.
My soul isn't to be found though,
but of course
no ones' ever was
so i can't lodge any new complaints
into our ledger.
I think of you
and i think of whales
and a spider
braving a crawl space
in an attic that may only hold
starvation.
We're all insane;
there is no debate
on that,
but i fear i might be
growing saner
as i lose things to say,
so i have started
not to speak.
Instead
i try correspondence with the wind
but i only recieve changes
in air pressure
as a reply.
This drove Dostoevsky
under-
ground,
but it makes me want to run
to you:
yes to bare feet
and snow
and the prospect
that something was actually waiting
for us
on that blanket.
Now the sun begins
to rise
but the billboard lights are still on
despite the slumber
of the theme parks.
Soon they will wake
and lines
will spontaneously form
out of forged courtesy
and habit,
but i will wonder
when i can sleep
in your arms
under
a January snow
again.
Jul 25, 2010
Jul 25, 2010 at 7:39 PM UTC
Counterproductive to hold to the truth
I’m no saner today than I was in my youth
Was it a tragic display that I somehow suppressed
A malfunctioning brain that caved under stress
When things get too quiet the siren I hear
Drowns out the sounds that aren't really there...
I often laugh when life deals me pain
In times like these I sense I’m deranged
But it might be the mechanism that allows me to cope
When the champion of mayhem has me pinned to the ropes
And the drunkenness of the driver, my pilot within
Can't seem to escape the stench of my sins...
The bludgeoned end of reason is hot on my case
Threatening to smash me back into place
It’s these catch-22s that torture my mind
I keep growing older suspended in time
Still my biggest fear is my hindsight going dim
And coming around to trust this world once again...
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 9:30 AM UTC
In the East, the sun luminously gleamed
And bid the nebulous vapors fly
Changing the gloom into radiant blaze
Cheering the languid drowsy sky
Lying in bed, I looked around,
Saw my room so cozily set
With things just enough to make it fit
For a sweet haven for me to rest
Each little thing in it began to muse
In a language discernible for me to grasp
Of the secret of success so elusive to man
Which striving to catch, oft slips off his clasp
The clock ticking away at the wall
Alerted in a tone of rhythmic resonance
That ‘each minute is precious and dear’
And not to waste it in trifling appurtenance
While the ceiling fan, spiraling above
Discreetly hummed, “Be cool and do not fret”
The open window, to me did urge
To ‘look out far and watch the world in beat’
The mirror neatly fitted on my bureau
With a gleaming countenance beckoned me
Asking me to ‘reflect’, ere venturing into anything
That from fatal fallacies, I shall ever be free
The calendar hanging inside the room
Reminded me not to lag or put off things
But keep my assignments and learning up to date
That to great heights, I can soar on wings
And the woolly carpet gently mused;
“Bend your knees and kneel down to pray
With a heart copiously filled in gratitude
Before a God who didn’t leave you aimless to stray"
With such counsel, silent and salient
Got out of my bed with resolutions profound
To greet the morning and start the day
In greater zest with a mind, saner and sound
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 6:49 AM UTC
I'm proud to be out of my mind and in God's control.
I'm happy to say that He owns my soul.
My name is written in the book of life.
So why then do I cut my arms with a knife?
I try to think of thoughts that are good.
I'd lead a saner life if I could.
I have Christ's example to follow.
I feel this misery's so hollow.
I think of things I've done and said.
And my mind feels so cold and dead.
Yet I find hope in God's good love.
I can feel Him blessing me from above.
Yes, there is hope in Jesus.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
Thrice-Strung Judges, Thirty Pieces you Shout
Be that Iscariot or Ally you relay
How the Once-Loved Prince now the Blubbered Pout
Has sent me to Interest another Fey
So it seems a Pillow for the Sullen
Whom by Lines saw no End to this Debate -
Which Petal weans; Or scratches Tears fallen
Least charge one's Sanity before its too Late
The Wheel was Right. Through Change Strength will confer
And sign assurance Monopoly disown
For Saner Men; And Women leaves Fresher
Let each bare Happiness bid for Reknown.
How Wonderous be, this Marble whirls for Love,
Then Season the Troll; Then Sever the Dove.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
Would you like to talk about
The winding water
And its sprouting light?
Yes,
The one you can see at night
From the soup parlor by the river
That serves memories, carved inside
A polished mirrored platter
Which made the boys all bright
And washed them saner
Along its tide of deluded truth
Come,
Would you like to talk about
The winding water?
The home for a thousand soul
All wrapped up, though foul
In a confounded streaming wire
And there, strayed the traveler
For a good four-hundred-year old
With his face down, and stories untold
Would you like to talk about
The sprouting light?
From the lanterns hung
To adorn the tide long
From the flowers of the head
Wilted and and still drowned
By the name of the lil moon’s
All dead hopes
Talking about the winding water
And its sprouting light
The old traveller
And the years has passed,
our little moon killed itself
Just to know that light
Eventually looked beautiful
Shrouded in darkness
Say now,
All my darling—
Why would you talk about
The winding water
And its sprouting light?
Why romanticize a world
Dull and weary?
Because beauty is made up,
and we live for beauty?
Or because we live in beauty,
and life is made up?
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
ask for more?!
ask for more???
have you lost your mind, man?
i mean really,
ask for more! (said with a chuckle)
asking is admitting
asking is revealing
asking is believing
asking is expecting
asking is...
asking.
nothing is better.
nothing is nothing.
well.
nothing is nothing for awhile
nothing is something after too much nothing
surely, nothing is better than asking
can i infer?
i will infer.
i will make gestures.
i will not be so dumb to act as if there were nothing
but not so bold as to be asking for something
i will infer
i'll will things with my mind
i will desperately wish things
quietly...
silently, even?
that seems noble and perfectly normal
mind reading
inferring
making ridiculous gestures
struggling
and talking to oneself
is surely
a saner and wiser path.
ask for more!
ha!
madman!
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
sorrow
so very sewn
the doleful mind is sung
post to pillar weeping bedlam
unplugged and unsnug smutting out ugly
stopper in now properly so
property now preserved
dammed up river
sorrow
so very so
woefully head is hung
side to side sweeping pendulum
frothing out malware and mad medicine
saner cure joins the jettison
salmon up a river
g o d s deliver
sorrow
Apr 13, 2022
Apr 13, 2022 at 11:43 AM UTC
How can simple nonoffensive words hurt so much?
How can the plain question: "who am I?" make my stomach clutch?
Why does the disability to answer make me feel like a bird in a hutch?
I try to look for answers, but I end up too weak straying from my goal looking for a crutch.
Speaking of going astray, here goes my mind once again.
Even I don't know the depths of my thoughts, not the tenth of my brain.
After all, I am just a demo, a soul in a chain.
What if: "What am I?" is saner?
That I can say. I am a human that yet did not drain.
A believer of the old saying "no pain no gain."
Oh no! I am more than that! I am a grain.
And I hold within me the power of a reign.
All I need is to grow, all I need is rain.
Rain... rain ladies and gentlemen is nature's beloved soundtrack.
It is the pitter-patter that makes my heart crack.
Sky, why are you so black?
What is it that you feel you lack?
I promise I won't stand back.
Dear horizon ease your anxiety attack,
for you are more loved than FLACK.
I am a 16RAM program of a telegram whose programmer programmed to deprogram all pogrom to the last gram by the use of an epigram.
In simpler terms, I am a poet.
I love the world when I'm high and when I'm at my lowest.
I believe that I am a poet because poetry is the highest expression of love.
I am a lover of this earth and the heavens above.
Love isn't just a myth,
it does exist.
I could go on like this, naming all that I love with a never-ending list.
I have learned to adore the darkest of times,
I have learned to be fascinated by all lives.
Earth why are you falling apart? Why are you so angry? Why are you committing all of these crimes?
Ease your typhoons your tornadoes pandemics tsunamis and volcanoes. Dear planet no need for more hives.
I can't promise you that we will behave,
for mankind is foolish,
him who once lived in a cave.
I understand your wish for the extinction of all humans.
But like any other love story, our love did not last.
While earth took us in her arms in the past,
whilst earth lovingly caressed humans otherwise.
In the present, it has harassed us as if we were Pennywise.
The touch of life used to give me butterflies.
But for now, all I hear is earth's cries.
The earth has loved us so purely,
although earth is 22 500 times older than man she has welcomed him so demurely.
And yet, man polluted destructed and poisoned. Oh isn't man such a disgrace?
How can he look earth in the face?
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 3:28 PM UTC
I’m taller than her now.
I joke and say I’m growing
Up and away from her but
She doesn’t laugh. Because
I am: horizontally.
Plants grow toward the
Light and my movement
Is matricidal as the womb,
The matrix. That’s what really
Makes me sick.
I’m taller than her now.
And smarter, and stronger.
And saner, if that, colder.
But still I’m smaller, or
When I say good night
And watch her
Watch me shut the door.
I feel my angles, rounded
Corners. But I really don’t
Know who I am.
I’m not a boy and yet I
Must be. Not a man though
I should be. What she sees,
Or what I think she sees,
Might take my breath away.
That’s why I thank god for
Making humans irreflective.
If I could see (She sees herself
In me, her father too.) I’d
Oedipus my eyes out.
Apr 20, 2010
Apr 20, 2010 at 1:18 PM UTC
Bereft of depth
the cattle calls
a chattering clutter
of noises that bothers
saner minds
and their ****** daughters.
When fools ferment
deep discord
from a good temperament
turning sweet wine
into a bitter product
wilting from some
rotten vine,
and honest hearts
no longer entreat
the wisdom of fools
they once deigned
to share
humanity’s goodwill
and ever shrinking grace with.
Let them loose their tongues
and see drool dripping
like a sea of diarrhea.
For these things are
matters of darker dreams,
past times parting
partial truths
to the cruel schemes
of the obtuse
and greedy hearts
who abuse
all those
who challenge their views.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
I solemnly swear
I say things I don’t mean
and curse at everything
stuttering around in heels I used to wear
fakely excited at every **** thing
like I have to fill every awkward gaping hole
everybody knows
who is right and who is wrong?
I stopped asking a long time ago
where I am in the distance
I hear only loud noises I feel nothing
I will not come out of my shell
funny how I say it like I have a choice
girl, you’re so out there yet so withdrawn
I solemnly swear
days collide into one another and I don’t lift a finger
I’ve been having dreams
where I throw people overboard just to save myself
waiting for them to drown before crying
“man overboard!”
how do I tell you that there are parts of me that rot and keep rotting
do I tell you I didn’t call the ambulance
I shouldn’t tell you I set the house on fire
wake up every mourning and solemnly swear
my condition started improving from the day you left
I’ve only been getting saner and saner
but even so, not much more myself
I should have more regard for life in general
I was not raised this way
walking the streets only half-awake
can I please live half-asleep
my mind didn’t use to be this blank
what is right and what is wrong?
I ceased wondering a long time ago
has it been two months or two years since?
I told you where I am time does not flow in a linearly fashion
I solemnly swear
the world should just revolve around me
while I judge you so hard
get below me
I am so awful just kidding
is it the time to be serious or immature
I give up just kidding
you wanna play the pretending game
two can play at that game
right hand up
look serious now girl, you can laugh later
yeah right hand up but not too high
palm facing out, say the stupid line
I ****
“I solemnly swear I am decent”
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:57 AM UTC
sundown
blend to bed
harsh plastic, things are undone in that interval called 'growing up
for piano turned to lines of wire
from love for you - wish me up a white lie & forget everything we ever told ourselves
about us
-
the calmer aspects of the world
tell us to swim deep in our uncertainty tonight
the saner prison we were never aware
or obliged to
sometimes it wouldn't even receive a curt nod
-
so needless to say, fragile thing, when they wake you
from trespassing out on the moorlands
with your brain in tow or
gold beneath your feet aglow
a worldly & shaken grin may be enough
but I'd like to know you'd been laughing
© Copyright David Bosworth August 2013
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Eyes brown, eyes green
Looking at you looking at me
Smooth lips, pink lips
Your smile waiting for mine
Brown eyes, green eyes
Searching for something I can't see
Big hand, small hand
Fingertips brushing
I look away, I can't help my blushing
The waiting is killing me
So we go for a smoke
Breathing it into my lungs it's a saner kind of rush
Your eyes, my eyes
Seeing the same stars
Bare feet, small feet
Our bodies carried back inside
Your hands, my hands
Can't wait to intertwine
Keeping our eyes glued ahead
Our hands do the talking
Words get confusing
our hands have better grammar
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
I held her in my gaze on the iron rail of summer noon.
This moment of humid silence wetting her heat burn cheeks
I knew would melt pretty soon.
Like moisture droplets on her lips and her palm’s sweat
This heavenly moment would retreat
With its phantoms of fancy it’s never too late!
Then sobered and in saner head
We would find our place under the banyan’s cool shade.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Embarking upon
a saner
wired mind.
We track
seconds upon
minutes upon
hours upon
days upon
years upon
decades and
(arms, legs)
lost centuries,
do we
ever have
the time?
Everyone is
hopping, skipping
sprinting, flying
everyday growing
closer to
the final
moment, dying.
All of
these people,
supposedly succeeding
to be
more than
like me,
but in
the end
of the
day... Are
they really,
truly happy?
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC
I have walked my paved and beaten roads
crossed my old and new bridges
and jumped my low and high hurdles,
unrelentingly... allowing nothing...or no one
to rise before me...and tell me : you are wrong,
when, i feel it so strong...that i am right!
no reason could be saner than what I've been taught
no voice, could be more reasonable...or gentler
than those voices of my folks...my childhood...my past,
nothing, or, no one...can ever destroy...or impede
this bursting...yet tempered love within...
i let it grow, the right way i know
i let it nourish my soul,
for, it saves me...from sunrise, to moon glow...
Sally
Copyright June 16, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 9:32 PM UTC
I only write well when I'm a mess
Knowing this I spit on a fine line
My neighbor thinks I write very bad poetry all the time
I don't argue because it very well may be true
Meanwhile
Burned by my upstairs nuisance
He promised a case of red bull
But only delivered a stereo with no knobs
I would be angry but he is saner than I most days
So I sell the stereo to a deaf bird for nutrition
But my ramen packets break dry and maggot filled
So I eat cancer and drink the sun instead
my pens are all gone
They ran away when I started pacing
most things do
Preparation is key on nights like these
Fall weather comes and I breathed easy
But now my climbing tree's are dying
and my shoes fail in spades
I met a creature who said my words were strange
I laugh because what is normal?
I never did fully know
So that time tested debate unfolds with mouths clenched from use
I offered peace in the way of grape juice but gave myself vitamin c poisoning
So I ***** into the rabbit hole
no home left for that metaphor
I never really saw what all the fuss was about
good night
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC