"sanest" poems
I LOVE MYSELF
With all my flaws
In my Beautifulness,
In my mistakes,
In my weakness,
In my darkness.
I love myself, because I am worth it.
I am a high power person who can move mountains with my love, thoughts and dreams
I am good, kind, funny, full of life and love, contagious with my explosive energy
Some things may be equally essential but nothing is more important than loving oneself
And at this moment the love I have for myself goes above and beyond.
It could reach the end of the universe if I just unwrap it
I love me in my inane, craziest, sanest, beautiful twisted, darkest and funniest way
I love me in a way that no one does
I love me in my fullest woes
I am everything that I can and will be
I am frightfully proud of my flaws and proudly wearing them as no one is perfect
This is the start of a new journey to me
The journey of love and self acceptance
The journey to fully embrace and value my own self
I allow myself to fall in my stupidest and biggest way, just to get back up and catch my breath again
Failure will not stop me but make me stronger
I am fully seeing me and smiling at my imperfected and distorted reflection
Hugging myself so tightly, refusing to let go
The more I am spending time with me,
The more and more my love grows
Is it bad for my health ? I do not think so.
It’s true, I am better, happier, more free, powerful, at peace
The sun is shining on me
I don’t need no help to be beautiful, ‘cause I’ve got me
I’ve got that uncontainable light from within me
I am smoldering a treasure, sharing laughter, joy and sadness with myself
I have learnt the phases of myself
So distant from that little insecure girl I used to know
As I allow her opinions to matter
I have accepted her difference
Her different kind of beauty, I have learned to love
This feeling of wholeness, self acceptance, comfort and love, is liberating
I wrap myself around my contorted and beautiful else to form a ME
As I am, Raw and Real
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
They used to call
him
the young genius
now they call
him
the old recluse,
holed up in his
shack on the Mad River,
A garden of grow
in the back corner,
Always a **** for me and you.
He sits out on
his little patio
those bottle fed
cats
all running around
chasing ghosts
this way and that.
Pink camillas
white roses
silken dried out hydrangeas,
Spirits in the faces of the flowers.
Red berries
the bird's bar
a bar fight breaks out every evening.
We visit him there
on Friday afternoons
sun setting
sun high in the blue sky.
He finger ****** his
way through life,
Where ever he stopped,
People's lives changed,
He, searching for the words
to heal others pain
until compassion fatigue
set in,
Now he can only relate
to others
in small quantities of moments
too much pain felt
from
without within.
He is like his river,
a madness,
always different/always the same.
The sanest person we ever
knew.
Just watch your eyes, though,
with a look
he'll see right through you,
All your secrets will be revealed.
The young genius
the old recluse
if you need some healin'
go ahead and see'em,
He'll give you just a
hint,
Even if he's not feeling,
He'll take you down to
the Mad River's shore
give you a glimpse of you
and
bring you back home again
for more.
Shaman's on their way
have nothing much better to do
and nothing else to prove.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 10:15 AM UTC
My great-grandmother lived in a time when if you sang too loudly in a public place
Such as on the bus
With no audible music anyone else could hear
You were thrown away
Reported by the sanest of citizens
Locked away in the mental ward of Bellevue Asylum
By your own family
She was an alcoholic
Well, she was Italian
As was that whole part of my family
And Italians like wine
And she liked her wine
Maybe a little bit too much
My grandfather said that by six o'clock
Everyone in the house was screaming
Throwing things
Alcohol-tinged, infant-like fits
The lot of them
Drunk
Every night of the year
But my great-grandmother
She was the only one who carried her drink
In a little metal flask
Tucked in her ragged coat
Took it with her on the bus
On the way to work at a hotel
Where people with enough money
To boost the world's economy
Slept, ate and yelled at her
For forgetting to put a mint on their pillow once
But she just hummed away
Took the flack with a smile
Sipped her poison
And rode the bus back to work
The next day
Drunk
Singing
La Donna e' Mobile
One day though
Her brothers caught up to her
As she was boarding that bus
She was singing again
And smiled
Asked them what they were doing there
And they looked at her
Smiled
And smacked her
They threw her in their car
And took her to Bellvue
In 1947
When the idea of mental health
Was shrouded in ignorance
And scrutiny
And the word "medicine"
Meant electric-shocks to the brain
Submerging in below freezing
Ice-tanks
And
Fiddling around
In people's brains
Through their eye-sockets
With screwdrivers
"Lobotomies"
My grandfather was born in 1945
He was only two when they took his mother away
And only three
When they told him she died
Rotting in the asylum
Experiments done to her
That my family will never know the nature of
Never know how much pain
She ****** up
Never know if the cause of death
Was actually "cirrhosis of the liver"
Or
An officially administered
Botched
Brain-fuck
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 11:27 AM UTC
With the thought of him she can escape the meaningless life she lives.
But really, she doesn't feel like she is living at all.
As you see the stars twinkle in her eyes, you can tell she doesn't belong here.
Yet here he is making her beleive that she not only belongs here, but she belongs here to be with him.
Every simple touch, is filled with compassion, intimacy she can't resist.
It tends to drive her mad in the sanest of ways.
His remarkable brown eyes look at her tenderly with such love in them.
Gazing back at him, she can see her future just infront of her.
This feeling is scary, adventurous.
She is the girl always stuck in her own mind.
Daydreaming, running from reality itself.
As he is the boy that sees everything for what it truely is, but has so much hope all at once.
She was losing her mind before he came along, and now she's losing herself in him.
He saved her from herself.
The truth lies in between her lips.
She is so incredibly in love with him.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 10:31 PM UTC
Vengeful souls demand recognition
as the blood fills the cracks in our foundations
and our genetic code is the biggest cop out ever known
As the media sells out and buys into the latest solution
Predicament home grown
When the problems run deeper than the sewage
they run deeper than the refineries and plastic seas
Tho they all serve as an example of the lacking
The lack of a proficent economy
and if someone is capable of defaecating where they eat
Whose to say they care for whats on your plate?
More and more we see the collaspe socially in our race
So what I dont understand is the shock when a man
brings a pipe bomb with intent to displace
Everyone is afraid of the yellow flag of terrorism
yet neglect the true issues when it turns red
Neglecting the many motives of an internal suspicion
So next time you go to stomp your former man
To dehumanise and overwork him
Remember your local postal hand
and how even the sanest can be pushed over the edge
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
Mirror mirror on the wall,
Who's the sanest of them all?
They say I'm mad and egocentric,
But you and I know I'm just wonderfully eccentric.
You've reflected my soul for many a year,
We've seen me shed many a tear
For they all have it in for me
As my beauty lives in infamy.
I know I'm stunning and uncrazy,
But, some days do get a little hazy;
If I forget to take my mild prescription
Then my beauty really does defy description!
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
Yet another in my "Barry Hodges" series
O what a beautiful city is baroque and unspoiled Vilnius,
A veritable rose in the greyness of Eastern Europe,
And a centre of fierce Lithuanian pride and nationalism
Where loathing of Russia comes as part of the national tapestry,
Woven into the heart and soul of each true descendant of Gediminas:
"Tik geras rusų yra miręs rusų!"[note 1] my Litvak lady love would cry out
In moments of extreme and poetic ******** excitement,
As she farted tunefully through purple quilted haemorrhoids.
O dearest delightful Vilnius, where my obsessive adoration
Of this rather plump but still juicy middle-aged lady
Went unrequited when she was sober, despite the perpetual onslaught
Of my tenderly whispered syllables of love and lust,
Even when my mispronounced tirade of affirmations of desire
Rose to a pointless crescendo, wasted on the midnight hour,
As she shrieked: "Lietuvių valytojoms yra geriausias pasaulyje!" [note 2],
In a desperate attempt to retain her composure post-climax.
O how can I ever forget her egregiously insatiable ****** appetite or
Her immense cantilevered ***** whose glorious silhouette
I can still recall in the silvery moonlight shining through
The toilet window, as I peeped at her through the keyhole,
Watching her wipe between her gorgeous silken arse-cheeks,
With an improvised corner of the unfurled bathroom curtain,
Mysteriously muttering "Jei nėra silkių nereikia valgyti!" [note 3]
As she reviewed the remains of half-digested Cepelinai [note 4]
O woe! All is now finished and dear overweight Valerija is lost to me,
Having fallen drunkenly down an open manhole on Pilies one evening,
And I am left alone to wetly kiss the cryptic letter she left for me,
Staring sadly at the tear-stained smudged ink of her illiterate scrawls.
Yea, mate, her last words of warning and patriotic exhultation were:
"Jei jūsų kūdikis turi imbiero plaukus, mesti jį į upę!" [note 5]
Followed by "Valio už Lietuvos Vermachto karo didvyrių!" [note 6]
And I think they were probably the sanest things she ever said.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
In winters rarest bitter
Before the failing of the light
We search for significance
Far sweeter than pleasure
Yet, never frostbitten
By the freezing of the night
We hunt until daybreak
Ever deeper for the treasure
I cannot show you the foreboded corridor
But I assure you I have walked it before
On a jagged line between sanest thoughts
For a way out of madness is often fought
One's reality is a tether binding
Relatively fixed into a position
Much like a staircase winding
Only its twisted to fit a new disposition
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 1:09 PM UTC
A song, a cry, a slither of rain
Chaotic words extinguish the flame
A weeping heart and bleakness to see
Scorch and churn on the brink of insanity.
Where lies the end of the burning pleas
That scolds with fire of the quivering seas?
Tranquil and serene in blades of grass
And clouds that wade and fade to pass?
Though misery deceives the shout from the dusk
Demanding time but ever so brusque
To wait the tables of the turning dark
Or forever catch songs of thou immortal lark.
The time may come to smolder the kindle
And smother the darkness that may still dwindle
Amongst these walls that caress the heart
They lie amidst the shattered start
Beseeching the while for the sanest depart...
Why do they leave me the colour of Death
With sobs of blooms entwining my breath
'I am what I am' that is what they say
And I scream whilst I carry an endless dismay
Is the rueful sorrow that carries me home
The same attribution that leads me to roam?
Is it not unfair how they follow Death
Through a peaceful endeavour despite such a depth?
But how can I follow one such as Death
When the one such as Death is I?
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
gulping down the agony
your irises shift like your schizophrenic sister
at the annual Christmas party
alone in a corner
whispering family drama
to air shaped like a person.
you ****** your head forward
like the motion would rattle loose
the thoughts that are stapled inside.
you breathe out in relief
when you find they’re gone
and the only person
you ever have to trust again
is yourself.
sigh out the real truth
you don’t trust yourself
as far as you can throw yourself
and you crash landed into rock bottom.
sometimes you wish you were like your sister
the only friends she needed were in her head
but you can’t get anyone to stay longer than a few months
you think the problem was choosing the wrong people
you just attract the bad ones
but you’re probably the monster
you just can’t see it
who can blame you
you wonder if your sister knows she’s crazy
because in her world she’s probably
the sanest one there
you wonder if she’ll let you visit
book an express ticket to straightjacket town
meet the friends she’s imagined
but feel more real than any friend you’ve ever had.
you realize that she might have to swallow
tic tac imposters on a daily basis
to keep the world inside her
not outside of her
but at least she doesn’t have to be this
lonely.
there are no friends in your head.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 4:35 PM UTC
Summer
Wind chimes and the clock ticks me away.
I am waiting for something,
losing other things,
like my fingers
(when I pointed at stars to try and read them)
and my ribs, one by one,
(trying to hold myself upright)
I don’t know what it is I am waiting for
but it has its foreshadow in the air
felt on the outskirts of my lungs.
and now it’s inside my lungs
and all the same:
I don’t belong to myself anymore.
I want to take the batteries out of every clock
because suddenly I can feel everything dying.
Running but running out of time-
but how do you even go about a tantrum
when you'll never get what you wanted in the first place.
I must be a child or an idiot or losing marbles
but can't help the crying, making a fool of my face.
Autumn
Hands pull me back into my sleeves
and blood runs back into my heart.
It was not something I waited for. It was someone.
so I placed my bet on the smallest, sanest sun,
but still, I gathered frost
and shed my light
until refusal words were all swallowed.
They become enslaved stars
while I am realising that those I once read
had always belonged to someone else.
Winter
Gravity rolls its eyes and asks,
‘Why do I even bother?’
The universe came in and hungry
when it expanded
and everything got eaten up
until I was left with only these parts
that belong to him
and belong to the night-time
and the lock.
My mind is in ashes.#
They have already been scattered.
But there was the bet I didn’t lose.
As it turned out, somehow,
in that lost state, I didn’t wage a war
that I couldn't win. .
Spring
Love is portioned out and put in containers
and in the freezer on the bottom shelf,
next to something I made to eat later
before I can remember.
I won’t let anything melt.
I’m saving it for summer.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
I have a great aunt
Wild light grey hair shoots out of her leathery wrinkled scalp
She's in the nursing home she desperately wanted to avoid
And she's been bordering death for years now
But her eyes still light up when I go to her room
And I hear her screech missus baby it's been a while!
And she smiles and she cackles at whatever I say
And grasps my hand
But I'm not the only one who visits her
Her mother does, sisters, more recently her brother
And they've been gone for a while now
And everyone says aunt dolly is crazy
But I think she's just about the sanest person I know
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
we were inside a gazebo
alone together
with salt caramel beer on our hands
and sticks of nicotine
to syncopate our life spans
to fill the dead air,
you thought it was a great idea
to talk about our vices
you asked me why
i drink and smoke
i told you that
***** is like my own personal body of water
my ocean,
my river,
my stream,
my sea,
my dead sea
where i could either sink or swim,
even float effortlessly
and i only smoke when
heaving a sigh is not enough
i threw the same question right back at you
and you said
you have always been a sucker for winning
so you drink to outdrink
and smoke to outsmoke
your buddies
but most of the time, yourself
we may have different reasons
but we both agreed that
we are at our sanest when we are at our drunkest
you gave me another bottle
and asked me if i was
up for a challenge
i nodded at you
and that's the last thing I could remember
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 7:40 AM UTC
Contemplating,
considering,
the next move.
It sounds crazy,
but is it?
Is it the sanest thing
I've ever done in my life?
It just might be.
To leave everything you know
behind,
to jump into
the empty space...
it's freeing.
To take everything
you know and love,
and throw it to the wind,
in anticipation
of the next adventure...
It's crazy.
It hurts.
It's exciting.
In these moments
I recall
what life is all about.
Love.
Freedom.
Exploration.
Adventure.
Will this next leap
leave me bleeding?
Perhaps.
Will I regret
letting my soul
run free?
Never.
My heart
has a hard
but thin
shell.
I shall endure.
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 11:21 PM UTC
The past
is never
finished business
a scourge
an invisible bridge
that crosses over
to the present-- bolder
than the self itself
screams to unseat reason
its anger would not compromise
even with the sanest advice
restless in every season
cries foul in vengeance
of wrongs perceived
of justice's miscarriage
turns over every episode
re-reads every page
of one's life-chronicle
in rancour---no image
could be harsher than its visage
but as for me
my case I'll rest
friendship or enmity
hatred, faked love
promises unfilled
of the faithless and unworthy
the world's inhumanity
even the cruel hand of destiny
I'll set aside---it's all history
this then
shall be
my moment
of truth
the past forgotten
I've come to my own
I'm enlightened
reborn
happy
free!
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 9:18 PM UTC
We All hAve them
Some Are smAll and meAn nothing if discovered
Others if espied will either destroy yourself or those close to you
For some lying is their only choice
And their lies go to their grAve with themselves
Not everyone can lie with eAse
And others Are put in situations where lying becomes second nAture
They may not wAnt to lie
But lying is their only choice
Like they sAy two can only keep A secret if one of them is deAd
You may thing your secret is safe
But As they sAy trust no one
And keep your friends close but your enemies closer
And never trust Anyone but yourself
BecAuse you know what you're capAble of
And you may not know truly whAt others are capable of
Trust no one but yourself
BecAuse who do we have to turn to when All falls
BecAuse our lies eat us up on the inside
They destroy us and everyone we cAre about
They can turn even the sAnest person into an insaAe psychopAthy
It slices through people’s heArts and can come out of nowhere and stab you in the back
Lying is a game
We chose to play the game everyday
To protect ourselves and those who we love
Some lies we keep are not even ours to keep
And those are the ones that ear us alive on the inside
Puppeteers control us like puppets because of the lies we have told
And in the game of lying the only way to win is to be a good girl and have no lies
But even good girls lie
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC
I filled this room with books and madness
Peaches and potatoes fuel my hysteria
My walls scream of crime and lost word play
Paint peels for moments like these
all the artist ran for Canada
The news suggest chaotic times ahead
The sanity service did a clean sweep
So this space may fill with normalcy once again
But conventional contraptions make me panic
So I spit madness into the sink
it pools at the bottom
Metallic and delicious
My ant farm fell into a state of disrepair
Little lives snuffed out by my latest episode
My plants still shine green
only because I fear for oxygen
I glued my fridge closed after one too many whisky drinks
But I have a back up so I'm not sure of my current state
I hide the vices knowing there is more
always more
I trip across rooftops
Chain smoking to displace the sting
Avoiding the moon I once took for granted
I've seen tides shift
I've seen moon fueled strange
I love a freak nation
My neighbors all think I'm crazy
I don't mind because I hate welcome casserole
I am an ambassador for insanity and I take that responsibility seriously
Still
I may be the sanest creature on the block
But only I know that....
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
the worst part is that tightness in my throat
all the voices i ever was, shredded and stored in my voice box
the worst part is that there's no place to scream
no place, that allows that impropriety, without being deemed insane
when it's the sanest thing to do.
the worst part is that there are no words
that fit the messy ins and outs, smooth passages and hard ridges,
the worst part is that the tears come less staged,
they aren't for the reflection of some adolescent sorrow, a figment of what pain could be
the worst part is that it's real
not a commercial for voicelessness but finally the real thing
the worst part is, I can't speak anymore,
the worst part is, those shredded voices are all the worst parts of all the strangers I've come to be.
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 3:03 PM UTC
I have, once more,
jailed my vision,
splicing diamond-cut thoughts with this
cross-bred and violently bleeding doubt that
feeds from the stomach and shreds the sanest of minds
It is here this rampant indecision
squawks in wordless tongue,
lashing its disposable fancies
(arrow-tipped precision)
at my shaking core,
bowels emptying
alongside any creative thoughts of semblance
All that is left to bear witness: a sweaty palm or two
– and silence –
as the webbing of my fingers um and ah
hovering, like midnight fireflies
over the speech-impeded womb
of my QWERTY keys
And, inside, I hear laughter
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 6:21 AM UTC
The safest day
and the sanest way
are almost never the same
i could spend
everything
trying to prevent
losing all i have
but then i'd face
missing out
on all the scrapes and bruises
interaction never loses
you could take everyone
that you know
and push them all away
but would that make
them think any more or less of you?
or leave you feeling blue
my forte and the easy way
don't ever see eye to eye
sometimes i just want to cry
are our feelings just a lie?
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
Do you think we’re emotionally compatible.
What crackpot class have you joined now.
I'm taking a holistic course.
Why don’t you go and have an affair, you’ll feel better.
No, listen, I want inside your mind.
You don’t, take my word for it.
Soon I’ll be able to heal your body and mind.
Have you ever thought about counselling.
I'm just searching for myself.
Just wish you’d hurry up.
Why don’t you come with me, I've already mentioned you to the teacher.
Oh no you don't, history teacher, history class, coming back to you.
That’s why I need to get into your mind.
Have you ever thought that maybe I'm the sanest person on the planet.
Yes I used to until that time we got lost and you refused to ask for directions.
I didn't need directions
Were you afraid the guy would laugh at you
No that had nothing to do with it
Because you can't read a map
No silly, he said his name was Nelson
Did that upset you, was that it
Did you learn nothing in that history class
Well, not map reading
He only had one eye
Who only had one eye
Admiral Nelson
And that upset you
Jesus woman, nobody upset me, he couldn’t give me directions cos he only had one eye
How does that stop him from giving directions
What, isn't it obvious
Not to me
He can’t reverse a car can he
What’s stopping him
The blind spot stupid
Oh my god, and I wanted inside your mind, you’re a hundred percent crackers
Well you sure as hell don’t want to go out with a guy who’s crackers
You’re **** right I don’t, consider yourself history
Thank god for that, hate long term relationships, three weeks, how did I cope.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
It’s okay to care about your friends
Roll around with them committing sins
Living every year like your freedom just began
It’s okay to be selfish when the time comes
When you’ve done all to be done
And had all the fun there was among
It’s okay when things change and you slow down what you do on a day to day
It’s okay to save and not go out just to play
It’s okay to change and do more for your sanest
Cause you can’t always do what others do everyday
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
It's so weird beyond repair,
And I don't even care anymore,
I'm closing the door,
It's so strange, and I don't think it's gonna change any time soon,
So I'm inflating a balloon, so I can fly away,
Seems like the sanest option in the world!
You must know by now, I don't take destructive criticism well,
You probably can tell by the way I leave
And I know I should sit and think but I would rather flee
I wouldn't recommend you to deal with me,
I'd rather rhyme than make a sensible song... I may be wrong.. So long!
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
I don't write love song or poems anymore.
I don't write how infatuated I am anymore.
I don't spew my heart anymore.
I am anti love, but in the sanest way possible.
I have lost myself to love and I have found myself toxic for love.
I don't write about how you broke my heart.
I don't write about the gnawing pain.
The constant sting.
I don't.
I don't.
I write about how lost I feel.
How awake I seem but so congested I am.
Subliminally I have never felt so disappeared.
I have never felt so without soul.
There's a hole that has sunk the whole of me.
Who am I?
Where am I?
The girl, no the woman in the mirror, staring right back at who should be me. WHO IS THAT?
Out of sight,
Out of mind,
I am running out of time.
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC