Asylum Earth
Frustrated I stood in front
of the God to Pray,
And asked him why lunatics
are increasing day by day.
Why there is scarcity
of people in a synagogue,
Why popping up of
Prozac is in a vogue.
Why people look as they
are coming from morgue,
Why all minds are clouded
by the depression’s fog.
Then, God appeared suddenly
with his mischievous smile,
And he started to speak
in his inimitable style:
“Son! this earth is nothing
but asylum of the universe
But for marketing my poets
described it in beautiful verse.
But most fools are the people
who claim to be wise,
And labors to turn this asylum
in a pretty paradise.
But thing which fills me
with a gaiety and mirth,
Is your construction of an
asylum within an asylum earth.”
“Do you know why this asylum
earth is devoid of joy and fun?
Because men who turned wise
are poisoned or shot by guns.
Unless and until you
immediately rectify your error,
This earth cannot be freed from
madness, anxiety and terror.
Benumbed by god’s answer
I immediately left his premise,
In order to prevent becoming
one more mad wise.
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
11/01/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Dont Ya Rile Em
Im seeing how boring it gets
Back where the sun never sets
And a day is really two days
I was feeling so tired inside
My eeys were stitched open so wide
It was making me kind of uptight
Oh yeah
All right
And the power man says
Dont ya rile em
Going asylum
Dont ya rile em
Going asylum
Tonight
Tonight
Ive been working my way back to sane
Its coming back to me again
Old navigational ways
Back in time where I belong
Theyre playing my favorite song
That whistling meteorite
Oh yeah
All right
And the power man says
Dont ya rile em
Going asylum
Gont ya rile em
Going asylum
Gont ya rile em
Going asylum
Tonight
Tonight
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Meeting A Wise Man
he has thick glasses
and he talks about the world as an asylum
of mad poets and wise people gone mad
he is amazing
and i think he is one wise man
that i should listen
i followed his footstep
he says this is all leading to God
a cure to all my addictions
to whatever
i tried to walk beside him
but he has always been a fast walker
and so i just follow and follow him through
all the years of my life
so sad
i lost my interest about my own life
i have gone mad too
he did not mind at all
he only said, i am one kind of a fool!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Funny Farm Frenzy
Welcome to the funny farm,
Let’s embrace in the steel embedded walls without harm,
Welcome to delusion, the land of charm,
Inside the walls is the realm of the most brilliant of men,
The schizophrenics, and the bi polars, everything torments them,
But inside the insane asylum, they escape from condemn,
The funny farm where you’re surrounded with laughter,
Through the air, the giggles are hidden beneath the rafters,
Constant delusion, from morning, afternoon and thereafter,
Manuscripts and portraits, the artistic minds inside the brilliant drafters,
The mentally ill the most creative of mind,
Inside the asylum, escaped from reality, their thoughts refined,
Inside the asylum, their life is left behind,
On the white walls where portraits and creative writing shine,
Without sunlight, they’re the creators of their own realm of divine,
Inside the white walls, in their delusion, their confined,
The funny farm where humor is their lifeline,
Welcome to delusion, the neverending dream,
Inside the asylum things are not what they seem,
To reality it’s a prison, to the patients it’s their regime,
But what happens when the walls blacken in the night?
The laughter fades and their humor turns to spite,
They crumble in the fear of darkness without the touch of sunlight,
And they realize something about them isn’t “right”,
Isolated from the world their trapped in the dark,
Only within the walls, is their adventure to embark,
Inside their asylum, a community of reality segregated apart,
Their lifeline, through vivid imagination they depart,
They cannot see the walls around them, it’s their everyday home,
Inside the closed doors, their only space to roam,
An everyday dream to separate from reality, the unknown,
But when the lights turn on, and the walls turn white, the asylum fills with glee,
The reality inside the funny farm, the walls they can’t see,
They open their mind to creativity and imagination where their free,
The most creative of the mind, the indulgence of the what reality can’t see,
Up and down inside the walls, the rollercoaster of the emotional cycle spree,
The novel written and painted inside the asylum, the neverending dream,
Beyond the walls where reality isn’t seen.
poem by Kurt Kacich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our contest is not only whether we ourselves shall be free, but whether there shall be left to mankind an asylum on earth for civil and religious liberty.
quote by Samuel Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Poems Of John Clare
For years in Northampton mental asylum he battled his ghosts of despair
His Nation's finest poet of Nature the marvellous wordsmith John Clare
So many of his poems are relevant today
The one who loved Nature with words had a way.
The Helpston he grew up in not a cultural place
And though in that old Village his was a known face
They little realized the fame to them he'd bring
That poetry lovers World wide his praises would sing.
Without him less people of Helpston would know
The great poet of Nature of centuries ago
He died in Northampton mental asylum in dire poverty
Yet is there one greater Nature poet than he?
His flora and fauna poems have passed scrutiny's test
And as a Nature poet he was surely the best
Into the soul of Nature it seemed he could see
And his verses have outlived his mortality.
He never did enjoy his literary renown
And he died in the asylum in Northampton Town
But he was a true poet and his type are so rare
And old Helpston lives on in the poems of John Clare.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Many people think it's in bad taste to advertise for an insane asylum... but come on down. We're going crazy.
quote by Colin Mochrie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sometimes I think they should set up an asylum for people like that... a whole slew of paparazzi defending their positions.
quote by Robin Wright Penn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
People,
People,
People that is watching at us,
People still breathing in the great reincarnation,
In the wise,
People that hit that floor,
It was more like a movement,
The melodrama that came to hit the flow,
People that be coming,
Because all of us are going,
Come and understand,
People stop the fighting,
Keep on Rocking,
It's still the same movement,
Understand all the concept,
Earth all mine,
Earth all your's.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Our first responsibility is to protect the American people and we cannot put on blinders to expect that everyone who seeks asylum does so in good faith.
quote by Bill Shuster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ode to Karate
He practiced karate with verve
And suddenly sharp pain shot through his nerve
And his heart started to rejoice
Hearing his beloved God’s voice
Saying that he delighted in him the most
For he used the muscle
Which’s function was lost.
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
03/05/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tess's Typewriter.
That year they gave Tess
her first typewriter. She'd
not need to borrow her
brother's battered old piece
or write down her fragile
poems in her spiderlike
scrawl as her father called it.
The promise came while
she was getting her mind
together in that mental
asylum, after the mucky
love affair that went no
place and left her hanging
there, like one crucified
for all to see and most
to softly mutter and stare.
Get yourself mended girl,
Father said, and we'll buy
you your own typewriter,
so you can stab away on
the keys to your heart's
content and bring out
those poems of yours.
He never read her poems,
never read much apart
from the back page sport
or gawked at page 3 girls
with a tut tutting tongue.
That year she gazed out
of the wide barred window
of the asylum at the snow
on fields, at the seagulls
gathering and feeding behind
the faraway tractor as it
ploughed, at the grey
depressing sky, wondering
what it'd be like to not be,
wondering what the woman
with a cast in her eye, was
doing to herself in the toilets,
one night when she'd gone
in to pee unable to sleep.
The typewriter idea
and promise kind of got her
through the dark hours and
the ECT, and the following day
headaches and numbness.
After slitting her wrists (mildly,
a cry for help) she said on the
phone to her father, Come get
me out of this place, help me
get back together. Ok, he said,
Miss Humpty Dumpty, and he
put down the phone, and she
stood in the hall of the asylum
with the receiver in her hand,
the image of the typewriter
before her eyes, those poems
banging on the inside of her
head, new ones wanting to
get out, old ones left for dead.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Asylum was good exposure for me and it is still shown quite often on television. I remember the special effects people had fun making a little doll that looked like me - which is not so easy - and it had to move along the floor.
quote by Herbert Lom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Solitude In Seclusion
Sorrow is mine for the moment at hand,
Tomorrow sublime in pastel grandeur
And here surrounded by a circle of kings
We sin in singing the songs we sing.
What asylum is this we have erected
In honor of escape? The power is rising
And wide eyed bacchants, foaming at the
Teeth are seeking their release from life.
No hills of emerald glades are there for us to dance upon
No fires are there to enflame passion within madness,
Only the asylum exists, its doors open to the world.
Its inhabitants resisting the temptation to sleep.
Who can know what goes on within these walls?
Who can know the rules behind these doors?
Fragmented delusion, solitude in seclusion
What disillusioning love is this?
What façade of bliss that beckons the kiss of wisdom
Within a moment out of time.
Sorrow for now is mine
Tomorrow sublime and forever undying.
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two Ubiquitous Tragedies
Once Asylum was visited by a sage
And he saw two bonkers in a same cage.
And sage with a fazed face,
gazed in the oubliette
and heard both loonies
shouting, “Juliet”, “Juliet”.
And curious sage in a soft whimper
asked to a studious headshrinker:
“Why both have gone mad?
Why both appear sad?
Why one seems serious?
And other appears furious?
Headshrinker replied:
One Romeo failed to marry Juliet
Other’s marriage failed with Juliet.
And sage quipped:
There are two not three tragedies in a life
A life without a wife and life with a wife
poem by Hitesh Sheth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What is the most innocent place in any country? Is it not the insane asylum? These people drift through life truly innocent, unable to see into themselves at all.
quote by Arthur Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Seeking Asylum or a Better Economic Life?
In countries where the tyrants rule
or the terrorists spoil the life, cool,
rape and shooting, people face
and so in boats, they race
to new nations to work as a mule.
The asylum seekers shouldn't form a religious group.
To the call of extremists, let not your minds stoop.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Asylum
Jimmy cream was keen, his brain wal always winnin,
I cant keep tabs on mine, its really quite a joke
I see him down the road, I ask if hed be willing
To lend me 15p - Im dying for a smoke
Dont arrange to have me sent to no asylum
Im just as sane as anyone
Its a just a game I play for fun - for fun.
I told em - look! - I said Im not the way youre thinkin,
Just when Im down, Ill be a clown, Ill play the fool.
Please dont arrange to have me set to no asylum
Its just a game I play for fun - for fun.
Will he take a sailboat ride?
He is very likely to,
Will he feel good inside?
He aint very likely to,
Will he tell you hes alive?
He is always trying to
But nothin, no nothin, does he say
In the morning when the days begun
- hello good morning, how are you?
And in the evening or the noonday sun
- what a lovely afternoon!
Well Ive been living next to you
Bluesy monday is the one day that they come here,
When they haunt me and taunt me in my cage.
I mock them all, theyre feelin small, they got no answer
Theyre playin dumb but Im just lauging as they rage
Dont arrange to have me sent to no asylum
Its only a game I play for fun
Ive been foolin everyone - everyone.
Will he take a sailboat ride?
He is very likely to
Will he fool good insidie?
He aint ever likely to
Will he tell you hes alive?
He is always tryin to
But nothin, no nothin does he vere say
In the morning when the days begun
- do you think it looks like rain?
And in the evening or the noonday sun
- you know I nearly missed my train
Well Ive been living next to you my friend
But what kind of friend are you?
Is it the beginning or the sorry end?
Will I ever see it through?
Ive never been insane
Oh whats the game?
I believe Im dying...
Hes mad, mad, mad...
Not quite right...
Oooooooooo..............
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Ocean of wisdom Vavroovahana Patra
Mother Vinapanee blessth to make wise;
Illiterates’ become wise with her bliss.
Appears in profound solitude;
Loves poets’ gratitude.
Mother is a Divine Deity;
Is the cause of Earth’s Beauty.
With her bliss poet’s name dazzles in passes of history;
She is a Broke of Delight.
With her bliss poets are immortal on Earth;
Her love is an Ocean of mirth.
Mother loves poets, singers, film stars;
With profound love she contents their desires.
Mother provides inspiration to live peacefully;
People being educated live delightfully.
Provides qualitative education;
Is the benevolent Deity of creation.
Mother eradicates illiteracy;
In all people plays waves of delight.
Poet’s surrender on the feet of Mother;
Contents poet’s desire.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
More Than Myself
Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
something worth learning
in that narrow diary of my mind,
in the commonplaces of the asylum
where the cracked mirror
or my own selfish death
outstared me . . .
I tapped my own head;
it was glass, an inverted bowl.
It's small thing
to rage inside your own bowl.
At first it was private.
Then it was more than myself.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jo Mountwinter
She may be in her eighties and the years have left her gray
But she sticks up for the underdog and of her one can only say
That she is one in a billion people like her are rare
There's only one Jo Mountwinter with her none to compare.
She is so very humorous so clever and so wise
And that woman has me laughing till tears come to my eyes
Her beautiful earthy accent is with her for to stay
Till the reaper will claim her the one who will claim us all one day.
For the sufferings of others she shows her empathy
And for poor asylum seekers in detention she has great sympathy
She dislikes the Conservative Government by the Aussie voters empowered
And she verbally attacks the hypocritical values of Amanda Vanstone and John Howard
Yet she criticizes the Government in such a humorous way
And one cannot help but to laugh aloud at some of the things she say
The woman deserves credit since credit she is due
To a fair go for all people she always will be true.
I know one of her daughter's Jessica a chip of the old block
Just like her marvellous mother of good old Socialist stock
If everyone thought like them a different World 'twould be
We would not have discrimination and crimes against Humanity.
The marvellous Jo Mountwinter is eighty I am told
But in her heart she is quite young and she does not look old
A fighter for worthy causes and a role model for the young
And her humour is contagious and her praises must be sung.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!