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Poems On / About CRAZY  12/1/2015 3:16:10 AM
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The Hunt

I made something for him. I planned it to be some sort of a sweet surprise. I expected him to be, at least, happy. But I guess he found the whole idea crazy. And it hurts so much. I had been planning this for weeks and I really thought this would somehow touch him. But I was wrong.

He never knew I was hurt. I never had that strength to tell him so. I couldn’t blame him for thinking this was crazy. It was, anyway, just a game I made up, for all he cared. He never knew I spent weeks creating this crazy idea. He never knew I was serious about this either. But I was.

It hurts so much to have all my efforts put in vain. He could’ve hold on to the craziness and pretended it mattered. But I guess he wasn’t really up to it.

I called it ‘”a game of forever… to be played only once.” A game that was never finished… and would never be. Though I hope it was.

Now, after years had passed, I wondered what could have been and what would never be again. Until now, as I remember this part, I still hurt. I guess he never really figured out the idea of the whole thing. And I guess no one would ever figure them out either. Maybe all these were really absurd or something. But he could’ve at least tried… for my sake.
Biscuit Collection

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Read more: crazy poems, strength poems, remember poems, happy poems, hope poems, hunting poems




In a whirlwind of numbness,
there is nothing but madness

this pen is my release,
the ink it is my blood
everything I see and everything I do
haunts my life, my everyday
it tells me I am crazy

Crazy am I,
a young girl who acts on impulse,
who listens to her feelings as thought they are a parent,
or rather a best friend

Crazy am I,
an old woman, who spent her life alone
searching for 'the one'
but finding no one

Crazy am I,
a young boy, who fights for justice
there are no greater oxymorons,
but he does what he is told

Crazy am I,
the Lesbian, confused as what to feel
scared of the reaction of her loved ones,
she hides in shame

Crazy am I,
the killer, who's so fed up with life,
he wishes to take another,
perhaps his beloved wife?

Crazy am I,
the teacher, who devotes his life
to a robot of audiences,
faith is in his nature

Crazy am I,
the poet, who writes these very words
she spends her days deep in thought,
but seems to have no cares

Crazy are we,
these people, who have felt all too much
all here for different reasons, none matter.
the fact remains that we are,
all indeed
rachel kathleen moses

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Ninth Floor Crazy

There is crazy in these walls
The ghosts of crazy past
Will dance tonight on the ninth floor
It sounds absurd
But this was an institution for
The mentally deficient
There’s crazy in these walls
It’s said that their elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top
But it does get stuck on the ninth floor
Can you hear it?
The “ha ha ha “ of insanity
There’s crazy in the walls
Careful it’s catching
It hovers in the air waiting to alight
If you’re susceptible, it could inhabit you
Do you feel overcome?
Have you entered a state of hysteria?
(Are the voices beaconing?)
It could happen to anyone at anytime
On the ninth floor, psychosis reigns freely
Is your brain doing somersaults?
Careful you could find you’ve lost your mind
That’s a crazy of a different kind
Don’t let those voices run wild
There’s crazy in these walls
Stay off the ninth floor
Where the loony ghosts dance gleefully with abandon
“Wack-a-doo to you”, they’ll greet.
“Join the party. Grab a lampshade. You know what to do.”
Now do the opposite: inside out
There are no rules
Just let your mind go
(There it is in the corner.)
To be a member, just check your mind at the door
There’s crazy in the walls
Don your dunce caps and swing from the rafters.
Here on the ninth floor anything goes
Crazy is as crazy does
Let the ghosts overtake you
There’s crazy in these walls
Just listen for the call (of crazy)
The voices know the way to go
Drop your drawers and open all doors
Let the loony free
Stick out your tongue (Nyah, Nyah, Nyah)
Turn a cartwheel and run with scissors (they’re the party favor)
Pull lent from the air and dance the crazy dance
There’s crazy in the walls
We’re violently happy on the ninth floor
At our soiree, there’s no stopping
We party from second to second all day long
Sometimes we stare endlessly into space
It’s just the same for us
The elevator changes directions
Running sideways to the ninth floor
There’s crazy in these walls
Do you hear that?
I do. It’s calling.
Follow the bunny. He’s the DJ.
See the pink elephant on the dance floor
Asking the DJ to play some more
They know the score and just don’t care any more
Wear your aluminum hats
So “they” don’t get in
“Cuckoo to you too. That’s where it flew.
There’s crazy in these walls
Welcome to the ninth floor
How do you plea?
Crazy so let me be.
For I dance the role dementedly
Let me prance in circles
Back and forwards endlessly
Round and round
I don’t mind the deficiency
It’ frees the mind for other pursuits
Insanity is the aim
Thanks just the same
There’s crazy in my walls
Welcome to the ninth floor
There’s a party for the insane
The ghosts tango a tangled web of tunie loons
That reigns supreme
That’s where our elevator goes
If you find your way here,
Leave your mind at the door
At our party, we expect nothing more
Because there’s crazy in our walls
derrick foster

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Am I Crazy?

This is a poem that for me elaborates a little about the thought-provoking word ‘crazy’.

Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!
Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!

They all look at me
With words spelling ‘Crazy’
Stop! Stop! Stop! Am I crazy?

I forever rant my thoughts to my daisy,
She stands in a vase all day playing lazy
Stop! Does this make me crazy?

Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!
Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!

An adult who still sleeps fondly with a doll
Is usually described ‘a screwball’
Stop! So am I crazy?
So what is crazy?
Talking to yourself alone on the day bus
Walking the street naked without a just cause
Sleeping under your bed daily without giving a toss
Speaking to the mirror, stating you are the boss
shitting in public, wondering why they are making such a fuss
Walking and talking like a man, instead of a lady

This poem is crazy
Stop! So am I crazy?

Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!
Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!

Ranting away in my new mental home
Doctors have labeled me half-baked
Simply because of a normal mistake
I stopped acting normal
First lost all my pals, labeling me ‘Animal’
When I’m only a meat and fish cannibal
I'm accused of being mentally deranged
Because I shouted in the supermarket
as I was dollar short-changed

They say I’m mentally unstable
Pump me up daily with drugs
While tied to the bed with crazy cables
Now who is the vicious thug?
But my thoughts are still perfectly capable
Of comprehending the new meaning of crazy

What is normal?
What is crazy?
How are we so damn sure, normal is not crazy?

Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!
Blah, Blah, Blah, the Blah!
Stop! Stop! Stop! Am I crazy?
Sylvia Chidi

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Poems On / About CRAZY