"schizophrenic" poems
Take me to the art museum and kiss me by the paintings, Take me to the deeper parts of the oceans, so deep that any coral reef will be jealous that we will survive, Take me to that little ice cream shop my parents use to go on dates to when they were hopelessly in love and I'll let you order your favorite ice cream, Take me to the Chinese restaurant where my schizophrenic grandmother use to take me on late night outings and I'll kiss you in every booth, take me to New Jersey, to that beach where your parents stood in the same room and introduced you to home, take me to your bed, talk to me about those parts of your body not everyone gets to meet, take me to an abandoned hospital and let me take your blood on a canvas and make it resemble the Mona Lisa, so that people years from now glorify us, take me to the hill where I first tried ******* and let's make our hearts beat in sync with the breath of the flowers surrounding us, take me to that bench in the school gym where we met and kiss me, kiss me like you've never kissed anyone before, kiss me as if it'll be the last lips you ever touch, kiss me as if your life depended on it, take me to the edge of the universe and I'll show you the end of my love.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
My position is distant
My path discursive
My equality punctured
Set back, tortured
My corpse is painted
My rainbow is tainted
My bones are contracting
My skin is cracking
A knowledge abductions
Formed with childish seduction
Leaving me
Foam on the Dead Sea
Holding back
The tears of the seldom heard
Holding back
The worst kind of words
I'm heliotropic
Turning, turning, turning
My soporific voice
Is dying, dying, dying
Like a suicide survivor
Submerging ever higher
Schizophrenic priestess
Nepotistic phantom
I'm sand
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
Suicidal serial killer bashes the bones hoping to feel nothing
because that would be something
A Swelling self-image pops in the distance
is chewed,
then inflated over and over
this routine never fails to cycle, disappoint, and please
Ethanol injections cuz oral doesn't do ****
give it to me ********
***** I'll munch your muffin just fo nuthin like I'm ****** with y'all
Cuz I surf to fall and smoke to die
In the high where life is inconsequential
to question and I feel less than short
Of supernatural
Who are these new kids?
They dress in tights and pick fights
I can't see your face but I trust the feeling
Damsel's are rescued
blood is spewed
Yet insanity is gushing
The drugs are running out
We might just be super
We might just be heroes
Entropy enters me ripping the glamour and with a stammer I know
This isn't a comic book
Marvel
In awe at these elaborately induced fabrications
and schemes to change the pecking order or chisel
the universe to perfection
The line of schizophrenic and degenerate flees
for the hills
that now have eyes
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 5:44 AM UTC
"silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.” ― friedrich nietzsche
like poking the hornet's nest with a stick, you are a rose with stems and thorns so thick,
your skin is protection from oppression, keeping the world out of your private channels
like i'm AM and you're FM all of which are static with distorted voices only science can pry through your enigmatic cacophony on a molecular level, and any evidence of who you are, i couldn't find with years of knowledge, a indestructible ship could speak more evidence about
why it was annihilated, obliterated, disintegrated under the ocean for months at a time without
any current survivors, and the last person i could be described as would be Sherlock Holmes
every detail washes over my head like a flood of details that can't enter because a force field
surround my head like it's a crown being so clueless, but it feels like i'm wearing a dunce hat
and maybe i do realize that there will be a position where you will be put out into light
there is no way out of your mind, like a schizophrenic, if kryptonite killed superman,
can it **** the infectious virus spreading like wildfire through these veins, can you stop
worrying about when you will finally break down and open up to someone?
****
- kra
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 10:13 PM UTC
I’m a Polyglot Polymath, Microphone’s a Polygraph,
Manners of a Sociopath-Rhymin’ keeps me on the path,
Else I’d be hackin you up like a cannibal,
Pullin the Chianti out-serve you up like Hannibal,
Words heavier than Elephants invading cross the alps,
Under Armour over Body Armour-waistline fulla scalps,
From the Belt o’ the Celt o’ the Schizophrenic Sandman,
You’re triple teamed by -EC- Raps new Xmen.
I broke me chains,some say I went insane,
But it’s simple,all I went and did was grow a brain.
be the Bane of your life,while Mal plays Dark Knight,
A rhyme Super Villain with a verse of Dark Light,
The searchlights on-watch the cockroach scatter,
We speak Dark Matter while your brain gets battered,
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
Mal and Sandman's Positively Mental Attitude.
It’s the original Irish OG rough rugged and ready,
Battling me is futile keep your hands steady,
I’m no pacifist,and if you take the ****
I’ll clap you with a fist like an obelisk,
That’s a grave warning,-global warming,
The Dragon of Eire ,skies look stormy…
Since cassettes and disks I’ve been spittin ****
That makes wannabee’s wanna slit their wrists,
The Sandman’s calling,come in and take a mauling,
Rappin since clappin one two and yes y’allin,
from New Aulins to saint Pauls my kin,
Are gathering for the quickenin,pulse races,air thickenin'
Highlander in a land cruiser,take your teeth out like a dentist
E.C’s BRUISER.
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
by Mal and Sandmans Positively Mental Attitude.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
I've been aware
for many a year,
but cut off by him,
for crimes he accuses
for crimes undisclosed,
his silence is wider than
the great oceans,
with no means of passage.
till one day a word,
his brother uses a word
that makes no pretense,
that shocks, stuns, and
force!admits me to a reality,
I, knew but couldn't admit
schizophrenic.
here I am sundered speechless;
as a new form of sadness now
internally prevails, and I am
even more quiet than usual,
contemplative, they call it,
but
I recognize sad/mad in every one
of its manifold disguises, and wonder
just how much, own ingenious genes,
the paucityof my impoverished down~
bringing brought, bought, caught,
contributed to this loss, this onus,
this cross that has no answer to the
***only question that matters,
how much,
am I the guilty party
the disaster father***
Aug 22, 2025
Aug 22, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
I want to be a nice guy and a bad boy too
I want to have my way with you
yet be your servant too
I want to sweep you off your feet, I want to ravish you
I want to be your daddy dom and your prince charming too
I really want to be romantically naughty with you
I want to make you smile and blush, give ******* to you
I want to make sweet love to you and to **** you too
I want to be your bad boy and your nice guy too
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 1:44 PM UTC
if you are schizophrenic a small voice will tell you what number to press
if you are co-dependent someone will press 2 for you
if you are paranoid we know where you are and know what you want and we will trace your call
if you are depressive it does not matter no one will answer you
if you have multiple personalizes press 3456
if you are dyslexic press 696969696969
if you have a nervous disorder fidget with # key until the beep, after the beep, please wait for the beep
if you are obsessive compulsive press 1 repeatedly
if you are delusional press 7 and the mothership will answer you
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 8:21 AM UTC
The professor said
"Family therapy is like a Pie Graph
Everyone in the family contributes their own piece of pie.
When people leave
there's a chunk of pie missing
and the other members of the family
have to take on some of those roles to fill the pie."
Here's my theory:
Everyone in the family has their own whole pie.
Categorizes each housemate as a piece of it.
how they view them in their family.
how they relate to them,
Imagine a home
Mom and her four daughters.
Step dad, his daughter and son.
imagine three bedrooms.
The adults taking up one of them.
let's look at the Mother,
Her four daughters
all with different fathers
she knows how to raise children.
The daughters all know how to
Be
Children, be
Sisters, be
older or younger than each other.
The step-father knows how to have
A Wife,
One Daughter,
A Son.
Well Step-brother leaves the house.
Susie has a child at fifteen.
what does
her pie look like now?
She used to have a boyfriend,
four sisters,
a mother, father.
Now lost a brother
gained a baby.
She only knows how to be a child.
let's look at the mother.
She hasn't learned: Grandchild
but she knows how to raise a baby.
lets look at the step-father, lost his son, gained four daughters,
what's another one?
The sisters, lost their brother, a role model.
Exchanged for this this new baby.
another sister?
everyone's pie is empty in some parts.
judging by some other
dead white guys theory
when who you are doesn't line up
with who you see yourself as,
that's when people develop
Mental illness
Well I wouldn't call it ill, but let's count the bruises.
That baby is going to grow up as her mother's sister.
Suzie is going to seek the comfort of men.
Her sisters are going to constantly fight between calling themselves auntie
and Big Sis.
like tossing themselves on either side of the barbed wire fence is cause for death.
The farther we go back in each family member's backstory
the more slivers of pie we find
Georgia has autism,
Carley diagnosed depression,
Rosie an abusive relationship of 10 years.
Clover is quiet.
The Brother, schizophrenic, autistic, bipolar.
Any number of names they can slap on him.
He doesn't live there anyhow.
isn't human.
Muffle the sister that says she miss him.
hit her, cut her, lock her up.
This was a case study.
I lived with this family for four years.
unintentionally filled up parts of their pie.
I was Son.
Older brother.
Boyfriend.
Father.
When I stopped being a fly on the wall
Stopped seeing how their story was developing.
I didn't have any pie left.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
To die,
To fall,
To lose,
In an act of,
Life-giving,
Spirit lifting,
Victory,
Is simply,
Nonsensical,
And yet,
Perfect,
Completely,
Irrational,
And yet,
Thought out,
And so,
Incomprehensible,
With human mind,
But absolutely,
And definitely,
The right thing to do,
Because God loved the world so much,
He would let his own creation,
Take his only son from him,
To save his creation,
From the hands of evil.
And the best thing?
The most amazing and inconceivable thing of all,
Is that he did it for all mankind.
Athiest
Agnostic
Christian
Jew
Muslim
Sikh
Hindu
Buddhist
Black
White
Straight
Gay
Lesbian
Bisexual
Asexual
Boy
Girl
Bigender
Transgender
Agender
Young
Old
Kind
Cruel
Happy
Sad
Rich
Poor
Healthy
Ill
Free
Enslaved
Safe
Afraid
Intelligent
Stupid
Deaf
Blind
Disabled
Handicapped
Single
Taken
Married
Divorced
Remarried
Widowed
Lost
Found
Persecuted
Persecutor
Murderer
Self-harmer
Suicidal
Unloved
Adored
Popular
Ignored
Beautiful
Ugly
Guilty
Innocent
Outcast
Desperate
Autistic
Bulimic
Alcoholic
Bipolar
Addict
Dyslexic
Anorexic
Schizophrenic
SAVED
Every single human being ever born is saved.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
These days Jesus is a smoker
With an invisible cloak
Running on a schizophrenic rainbow
While we search for artificial paradise
To appease our soul’s appetite
It’s a kind of bottomless fall
Our chaos creates stars
As we walk through the dark forest
With all the timid insects
And aging is time travel
Cause soon you’ll be your parents
There’s an avalanche of power
That violates our psychic peace
When your only friends are dead people
And self-worth is in another’s mind
We need a fortress in our hearts
An anchor to reality
And a lighthouse of wisdom
Cause if no one agrees with you
You must be closer to the truth
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
Knowledge is butterflies in flight.
A doubting caterpillar needs
His faith in metamorphosis.
Without it his future: horror.
Mother gone this way before him.
Father gone before his time here.
The only hope: whispered instinct.
A still sound in the face of fear.
"Those who've gone before me", says he
"Loved me and wanted good for me."
"They willed me to believe in life
Beyond: the metamorphosis."
Every day, eat of leaf. Chew. Rest.
Do not wander ye from safety.
Heed ye these rules, follow the way.
Know ye that our decree's from love.
Brother tells tall tales, adventure
Excitement, a world of wonder
To have now! No waiting, no need
To wait, fear, hope. Enjoy it now!
Brother says: "metamorphosis
Is a tale made by those who want
To control and manipulate.
To keep us from pleasures in life."
Brother says: "The dark chrysalis
Is a grave, death, ending, final.
Now is time to discover.
What tastes good is the true good.
Only now do we have the chance
To learn, explore, see and enjoy."
He's eaten leaves outside the path.
Brother says: "they are juicy good!
Come all, leave this way mapped by those
Who want to keep you from juicy
Leaves and the whole wide world to see"
Brother says. "Don't hope, enjoy now."
Sister left the barque, left the safe
Path to the leaves mapped out by some
Unknown cartographer. Unknown!
She's not back. He hopes for her best.
But our caterpillar here, friend,
Has chosen the old dreams and hope.
To follow the path mapped to leaves
That nourish the body and heart.
He has chosen to believe that
The wisdom of age and instinct
Is more trustworthy than the word
Of youthful brother's juicy world.
His doubts he's cocooned in faith's silk.
These bland leaves he eats for promise
Of sweet flower's nectar beyond.
Today's toil for tomorrow's joy.
Doubt frightens. The chrysalis looms.
No control, nature compels it.
Unfair, afraid, the silk spins tight.
In pain, the world grows dark and still.
He faces his end. He must choose
To listen to the still, small sound.
Have faith he's not schizophrenic.
Believe in more passed the cocoon.
His ancestral council and creed
He chooses to embrace and trust
To face his end with dream and hope.
His doubts cocooned by faith in Love.
Butterflies are knowledge in flight.
For at their end, faith is fulfilled.
These butterflies their joy have reached,
Through faith in metamorphosis.
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 9:01 PM UTC
No matter how many pills
No matter how strong
No matter the cocktail of meds
I can't seem to be who they want.
I can't be the ideal human
I can't be that model of society
I can't bring myself to swallow their rules
I can't stand up and swallow their pills any longer
I know what they want from me
I know how they want me
I know what everyone wants
Everyone but me
You know what its like
Depression dragging behind you all day
The psychopath in you screaming to gain reigns
The crazy illusions as schizophrenia settles in
The lack of anything as the sociopath wraps you in a blanket
The madness that you've grown to love
As it all slowly takes you your handed a cup with a pill
It is the cage to keep your mind as it is alive
It lets you step outside the hovel of your mind
And lock all those memories and screaming away
A new you
Is it really you anymore
Our reason is based upon who we've grown up as
Why can't we think how we were made too
Why are we to blame when we didn't raise ourselves
The key to your mind was and will never be the pills
The medicine is just a cage to mold you how they want us
The key to our happiness is and will always be ourselves
Its in all of our minds
That sickening depression do what relieves it
The psychopathic beast inside unleash it
The schizophrenic visions embrace them
The lack of humanity that blankets your mind
Let yourself do as your supposed
No one in this world can make you happy all the time
No one but ourselves
We are our own master of mind.
If reason doesn't suit you release it.
Madness is like a comforter when you wake up on a cold day
It will keep you happy and healthy
Accept the medicine if you want reality
If reality even with the cage isn't comfortable come with me
Dance in the madness of anarchy
Let your mind run free
Let yourself be who you were born to be
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
You're the kid that asks how the cotton candy skies got that color
except now it's all blood red
"I guess God killed all the angels" he said
and I think:
baby my wrists are rags, ripped up rags,
and needles give you bad memories,
and my minds a black, empty, hole but it's still so ******* heavy
just a weight that no matter how much you want to say you can, you just cannot carry
and you need to stay alive
because there's no spots for angels anymore when they die
but I just can't bring myself to say it
and he knows people only remember things about me
like the fact that I like whiskey, and my suicidal tendencies
a lining of lightbulbs
infused on the wire in my brain
he says Jesus was like any other psychopath ,
just a normal schizophrenic
and if there's a God
we pray for him to fix the problem he's created
what if heavens just like hell in the form of a maze
golden maps leading you to places you aren't any happier
acid trips into abandon attics,
blonde babes with tied up hair
and yellow teeth
cracked out, veins
complaining that the life they hated ever changed
he says I ruined the calm after the storm that no one lives to see
the ending of the bible
that no one has enough attention in them to read
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
The voices inside my head are taking over.
These u-u-uncontrollable quirks I have.
My eyes twitch as many times as a heart beats after doing a triathlon.
In my head of runs a marathon of thoughts that don't belong,
things I can't do because they're wrong.
Within my blood stream flows 1.26 grams of dopamine given to me by doctors who don't know how to fix my situation,
only mix prescriptions to intensify vexation. Pharmacists eyeball me fearingly because I appear to be nothing but someone with chemicals wandering around into the little bit of a brain I have left.
Serotonin to regulate my mood, appetite, and sleep but I still only wish for all of this to be nothing but a dream.
All of this making my intestines mutilate, slowly dying inside as if I had Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Otherwise known as I.B.S. but I know for a fact that this is all just a bunch of B.S.
My enterochromaffin cells may just burst, I am often told.
If only I could tell what was real from what was fake.
For I also have A.D.H. - whoa! What's that?!
Sorry, where was I?
Oh. Tourettes Syndrome.
I guess I just twitch it off.
Maybe these are all figures of my imagination from the hallucinogens.
Who knows?
After all, I am a schizophrenic.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 8:24 PM UTC
When I was younger,
I was a shaman
chanting melodies
that I hoped
would change the world.
Perhaps, they did
for my people;
the schizophrenic
gypsy stoners earth mother
worshiping airy words
burning the creative
liquid juices squirting
over our brains
like a drop of LSD on a sugar cube.
But now,
I can feel the age
in my emotions.
Time drags me
through, smoldering campfire
ashes smoking to the heavens...
where the stars
look like they're rotting away
inside the mouth of space.
Even shadows are afraid
to hide in these dark corners.
These places in space
are so cool
chilly
hip.
Some kind of
sarcastic
one-liner
witticism
of ironic truth
temperature.
And I wish
to go back there.
But I must
return back
to earth to learn
what I cannot escape.
Jun 3, 2012
Jun 3, 2012 at 11:00 PM UTC
Sipping espresso, double affogato of course, topped with cream and
Chatting with Miles, I saw Calliope sauntered in from the rain.
Her dark mascara limped away from her crystal blue eyes
As she waited for the barrister to turn his head.
And when taking her cup,
Somewhere between Bird’s schizophrenic riffs
And Blakey's syncopation.
I fell in love
As I watched her lips purse and
Blow casually at the lid, cooling the
Fiery liquids inside but igniting mine.
I decided to ask what brought her in from the
Rain.
My words queued in my throat as I stood
To speak.
My knees cracked, testifying to the years I stood on them.
My heart tapped out a cadence as I strode
Over to her table.
I could smell spice and ginger of a perfume I knew so well.
Her chestnut hair fell in damp tendrils across her forehead.
Extending my hand with a napkin on the end I said, “ I would love if you joined
Me for a biscotti.”
With a sparkle in her eye her painted lips slid across her teeth,
“I am waiting for a friend.”
Walking away I sat dejected but not rejected because as she
Conversed with him she peeked at me
My Calliope
And all was well.
~AD~
Apr 2, 2010
Apr 2, 2010 at 2:48 PM UTC
I am not / a Schizophrenic
Feeling myself / Like Someone Else
Today it / Is Writing
Must End /My thoughts
Entirely
I - A
am - ******
not - phrenic;
feeling - Like
my-someone
self - else
Today - is
it - writing
must - My
end - thoughts
Entirely - Entirely
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 7:43 AM UTC
Last I could remember was my sister,
Running towards me with a sharp blade and blood blister.
Vacant mornings and bed of plain routine,
2 years past since the loss of queen.
Neck eternally stamped with a razor knot,
Thoughts nevermore within vengeance plot.
But sobered up, I’ve seen it all before,
No sister nor blister, a schizophrenic lore.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 3:52 PM UTC
you
in perfect transparent
translations
6 dimensional shapes
rolling, falling, flying
away.
i have no idea who or what
you are.
remember that chinese place
off old 66?
i had no idea who i was then
but i would do it a million times over
again and again.
schizophrenic eyes
telephone conversations
alternate zodiacs, tigers and sheep.
piscean planning
and piscean demise.
dolores haze,
her very essence left
trampled on the page.
she was such a beauty in those days.
do you remember those
san franciscan lies?
they say it never rains
but i see that it does
all the time.
i’m still staying there
for all my life.
sweet, sick little complexities
there’s never a cycle you break.
you were in a room rull of people
who would meet your same fate.
three before thirty
you had no clue you’d lead the way.
socially starved, you say?
i guess i can’t deny it,
but i’ll fight it.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:31 AM UTC
Ruminating
Vividly
Insidious
Mentality
Anachronistic
Philosophy
Schizophrenic
Witchery
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 9:12 PM UTC
when i was ten my sister tried to drown me because
she wanted to cleanse me of my sins. they said she was
schizophrenic but
i think she was right
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 10:23 AM UTC
You’re telling a story of a recent holiday
It reminds me of a funny joke I know about a panda with a penchant for French bread
I launch into it, enjoying your company, engaged in the action
But midway through speaking I stop
-
The scorpion that just appeared on the table is huge
Poison-filled tail arched over its back
It opens its mouth, revealing three rows of teeth
And prepares itself to strike your hand
I want to yell out but I’m frozen in dread
You seem more concerned about me than yourself
No, not concerned – confused
Can’t you see it, the creature right there on the
On the–
-
It’s gone, like the others have before
Back to the secret place in my brain
I know they’re not real
Or, I know they’re not real until I see them again
-
I try to return to the joke I had started but now you’re distracted
You make your excuses – not bad ones, I’ve had worse – and leave
Leave me to the voice of The Reminder
Who tells me once more that they’re coming to get me
They’ve not caught me yet but it won’t take them long
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
How many could be calling?
Eitherwise, it is exausting
To be held by own accountability.
Ability for account; a mass
Of those counted. Weigh creaks
On these levers over my eyes.
A lover in disguise lies
The warmth of this weight.
Lazy and laconic to confuse
The schizophrenic.
Lord I hope these are my own-
If I myself am not the sovereign-
Elaborate equations voiced
From character calculations.
Clacking their sums
In my sincere consideration.
We all have that second or so thought to reach concentric clarity.
When I sing or spiel the art of it, easier to make a monster of me.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 5:43 AM UTC