Sane Poems - Poems about Sane

Gram saw the comicality of the situation She never put on airs or lived above her station The rest of them took themselves too seriously Enormous eye-rolling was done by Harry and me Gram smiled at our ability to see through the bull She thought the rest of them had far to go They were dissecting the new neighbor’s every word Most...

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A warped zone twisted & unworthy of grasping-- impossible to escape. No reward No love No answers. Frantic fingers scrape at the escape hatch yearning to push the EJECT button (clinging to hope for transmigration). A glimpse into dying a flood of deadly lies. No winners here or there-- only degenerating brains in a neo-Roman Empire where any-THING goes & NO-body knows ...

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today, thinking time flowing… no peace, children dying in war… victims, all those dying in vain… iced war, cold melting life flowing… love left, the war took her ...

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paving the way for our grasp of the inevitable future a lad insane or androgynous being true to oneself we are mere husks of emotional ineptitude like the celestial tides they ebb and flow only checked by other’s opinions: ‘Cowboys don’t cry’ an injustice to nature being in touch with your inner psyche is a sign of emotional security far more valuable than intellectual IQ which some sadly...

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Spirit and sponsor sane sexagenarian scribe (and his spouse) to a Utopian country He seeks (in tandem with the missus) legal asylum in Canada... New Brunswick, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, et cetera, or any other socially progressive European country, and seriously ponders said scheme to exit (stage door left) living social within these United States, when four score plus days and seven...

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Beyond the hills, the storm, oh, yellow queens they quake; poor Autumn aspens feel old weight of weakened leaves the hostile winds will steal. Beyond the hills the storm it brews, like coffee black. A bitter sky will fall —dainty saintly sunlight a martyr for the squall… Beyond the hills the storm! My dreams in strobe-light flash, engage in shadow dance— the clash of sane and bane; a...

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the gullible are too many, the sane too few ~ what will voters do barbs being thrown, tit for tat, red states, blue states ~ I've had enough of that tired of all the political rants ~ they bite each other like red ants...

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Best bitters; black bar beer, Brewed brown but ~ bottled blue. Drunk dirty; delays drag, During dark ~ dreadful days. Though taken through tough times, Thoughts turn to ~ tingling taste. Confusing consciousness, Clear conscience ~ clouded case. Still sip slow, sounds so sane, Same songs sung ~ safety strong. Brains behave beautifully Breeding bright ~ better behaviors....

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You owe no one no detail The deeds you did were your tale Oh! The lovely long rain showers Whose outcome is today’s flowers Colour of it not so white nor red Signifies whatsoever you fed Holy was all that you said The rich attention that you paid Made them all wise and sane But it’s they who chose the lane Mighty is...

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I'm trying my hardest to portray That through all this sadness I'm still sane But my mind is racing, I can't break free Will someone please rescue me I'm sick of feeling the way I do But the past is making me feel so blue What can I do to make things better Maybe I'll start by writing a letter...

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rising from bed in the morning seeking shelter when it's storming idly whiling stray hours away dreaming there will be better days fabricating a self-image with a more prominent linage doodling on back of a letter shunning life as a go-getter paying of various taxes wielding rhetorical axes stopping by the grocery store dealing with muscles which are sore waiting in the queue at the bank musing why...

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"I am a writer. Therefore. I am not sane." - Edgar Allan Poe We all go a little mad sometimes ... In the middle of the night, Our minds raving words and rhymes Hands compelled to write and write In the middle of the night ... Wide awake with a troubled brain, Hands compelled to write and write Soothes...

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To learn to pray, I stay awake on my way. I need my space, So no one can interfere; Between me and my Lord. Well! I know my Lord; Never judged my mind; That never stops being weird. It's late! And... My eyes... refuse to recline, Keep looking around my senses, Perhaps! Reveal something. Yet, I don't know what this thing is. O! Lord! Help...

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I've remembered how to be, And recognized it though, Before I did not dare to see, That it had not been quite so. It was I, and I was it, And me, in neither lie, Confused I stood to ever sit, As essence, rather'd die. Broken boy, battle lost, Tell-tale acrimony, Bitter breath, idle cost, Ancient ceremony. Until a hero outside met, That inside I had hidden, Unknown to...

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Oh, dear bloom, open Up your color— rather than Recoil around your Own inner design. Let them climb; up your shaking Stem— to gather you In a pool of arms; For flowers snap, if they do Not give in to thirst....

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