Paranoid
Everybody says I'm paranoid they all think I'm crazy
They all smile to my face but they'd like to see me die
They put poison in my coffee they put ground glass in my oatmeal
They put spiders in my tennis shoes and shit in my pecan pie
It's hard to stop and figure out where did it all begin
You see my father wanted a little girl and my mother wanted twins
And my grandpa admired Hitler so everything I did was wrong
And I'm gonna stop now cause even though you're smilin' I know you hate this song
Essay On Psychiatrists
I. Invocation
It‘s crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eves and ears—
As though they were all alike any more
Than sweeps, opticians, poets or masseurs.
Moreover, they are for more than one reason
Difficult to speak of seriously and freely,
Come On
Come unite, you misfits of the shelter dark
For tonight we stand together as one
And if we let our demons become a pale ghosts
Then for a single moment we have won
We spend our days with quite rage
Looking for reasons to be human
But find ourselves inside a mask
Through a city of lonely ruins
(991) A Drugged Up Prostitute
On the wild side, she lives,
no love in her heart to give.
She walks the streets of Calgary.
Eyes protrude with deep dark circles,
cheeks red, with the look of fire.
Lips missed with cherry red lipstick.
Vampirelike finger nails, glow.
She walks uncertain, in a daze,
tripping over her feet, and wondering.
Diabetes
Pain in my feet
With pincushion fingers.
Blurred double vision,
Exhaustion that lingers.
I thought it was fat,
That I had to avoid.
Turns out it was sugar,
No, I'm not paranoid.
Bri's First July 2021 Showcase Of Poem-Hunter Poems...... [ Bri Shares Poems He Has Found & Liked On P-H ]
Readers:
This is NOT a single poem written by me. It is a collection of poems, mostly by other poets. I have been putting together usually-monthly-showcases for years. This years' problems on P-H (which continue to a lesser degree) have caused me to miss several months and now I MAY have two smaller (than usual) showcases in the same month, as I did last month in June.
This time I've been somewhat disappointed when looking for poems to use. P-H seems to have not continued having a section where I used to be able to save 'favorite' poems in my 'MyPoemList'. So I cannot retrieve from this list of perhaps a 1000 poems I've saved from other poets (and myself) .
The Bell Jar (Aft. Sylvia Plath)
You look at me, as though,
I am a butterfly in a Bell Jar
I have noticed you staring through
Yr window, watching me getting my mail
With my little dog
You've been doing this for years
But now, you are making me paranoid
Sometimes, I see you with camera
And see a flash in the corner of my eye
Are you taking pictures of me picking up sh*t?
Chiaroscuro
(for Mr. Kawsar, my friend)
Dear, won’t we walk hand to hand....
this evening’s tiresome travel,
travel through this path with dim delight?
.....................................weary we are
puzzled with blinks of puzzled lights
puzzled I and puzzled you
puzzled within blinks of darkness’ sight
The Shirt
Afterwards, I found him alone at the bar
and asked him what went wrong. It's the shirt,
he said. When I pull it on it hangs on my back
like a shroud, or a poisoned jerkin from Grimm
seeping its curse onto my skin, the worst tattoo.
I shower and shave before I shrug on the shirt,
Outside&Calm 1 Oct 2011
On The Outside
At home alone - kids visiting
you asleep, Carine called, she
can walk without crutches, her
leg is healed; wish it could be
the same for her broken heart
It will take two full years at least
she says she can never forget
! Scent Of The Black Tulip
Damn hot morning, the sun popped in
Its rays passed on my window, blinded my eyes in dim
Waking up late at the very first time
Chirping sounds of birds irritated my ears, alright.
Humid air swept the trees’ leaves and lazily sways
As the heat of the early morning sun beckons, killing my liveliness,
Cabin’s aura is sad; repainting it would make me glad
And the routine sound of the rush of the brook’s streams is annoying me so bad.
Ladders And Bundles~
We all saw it as a wave of the future
With the hope that peace and love would come to pass
Little did we know - that the tides would be altered
Life - like loose change - coming all too fast;
Love and goodness and forgiveness and mercy
Disappeared in all but a blink of an eye
Giving birth to unrest and cruelty - greed trailing right behind
Bringing a deluge of rain in a once clear cobalt blue sky;
' Cyberspace Secrets... '
A Voyage Where Adventure Must Invite:
Off Mega-Hurts (MHz) - - - - thru Giga-Bites (Gbyte)
And Reboots, Resets and Reduced – Sites
… into CyberSpace’s Secret – Flight…
An Inner Sanctum – Leaving from A Void
of Dreamless Drones or Disposable Droids
whose Mechanical Moves are quite Paranoid
Poised to Replace Super-Hero-Humanoids…
Our Dream Clean India
The daily visit of the Sweeper,
Pushing the cart with dust bins.....
What a welcome sight;
Soon the garbage;
Will be out of sight! !
The smelling bin
Left overnight
Foul smelling sin! !
The potent group this
The Age Of Hate
Ok, I'm not paid to think (like the TV shouting heads) , I have no real voice (vote) , and certainly no credentials - but I'm as invested in America as any high-school citizen can be - I've pledged allegiance 3000 times (hhmmm.. do they doubt our loyalty?)and when it comes to loving America I'd have to say my classmates and I are at the center of the spell.
I'm afraid we're growing up in the age of hate.. the age of phony outrage where each position large or small is high noon and violence is underfoot even when policing ordinary citizens.
We won't address the multitude of old problems in this new age.. we'll just unleash a marquetry of half truths to dispute the proven until unreasoned arguments reach their paranoid fullness. The real world is alarming enough - lets just push that away and ignore it - while we're at it lets slut shame the poor, the old, the sick, the unemployed, the hungry and the hand of mercy.
I realize America was never one moral atom bonded for better.. but those anvils that forged us appear neglected or forsaken. I'm afraid what's happening now, what we're seeing and hearing now, is a symphony of erosion - that by the time I have any say at all, the middle class will be gone - america turned slum - where even the voice of despair will be turned traitor.
We'll only be able to see our greatness in museum souvenir shops where nothing is affordable and everything is made elsewhere.
' Paranoid - Humanoid... '
A Paranoid Humanoid
In Outer Space
Inner Space,
Only Place
To Feel Safe
The Above Ceiling
… Heard Drilling
Holds Alien Attacks
Lasers Raze At,
Paranoid
I picked him up-
just released from
mental health treatment-
they'd drugged him
to some nth degree
and I could feel him
looking out the car window
deciphering hospital life
from the outside highway realities.
Lifes Too Short
Paranoid thoughts
of a world in greed
People trying to be better
Than the one next door
Why don't they
just live their life and be happy
Lifes too short
to play it like a sport
Trying to score a point
Time To Look In The Mirror
'The entire world already knows
That we water- boarded the prisoners'
The entire world also knows that
Our police shot the unarmed man
With raised hand
And policeman was not indicted
The whole world knows
Police kept a man in chokehold
Even after listening that he can't breathe
The whole world knows that
An Eerie Game
Why is it that one's mind can be all confusion,
With senses reeling in a blurred illusion,
One's thinking, cotton wool,
They're thinking, 'what a fool',
Perhaps it's all a paranoid delusion.
Bewildered thoughts shoot off in all directions,
Goodness knows who's still in one's affections,
With forgetting just one name,
It's like playing an eerie game,