Alec Boardman
Alec Boardman
2 days ago

Fingers type aggressively into the night as I stare at the screen of my phone.
A group debate about whether or not applying deodorant to your rectum will stop the chronic itching is being played out
We all smile and laugh.
For the record, it totally will.
The discussion of memes enthrals my mind as I relax into the cotton comforter.
The feeling of satisfaction travels through my veins as I embrace the friendship I have and the light, playful conversation taking place.

Anxiety and paranoia settle in and take their well worn places in my mind.
Like icy blue dragons, they curl around my thoughts, just waiting for these people who will soon be irrelevant to leave me.
The words they type about Harambe have no meaning
But the words they think about what I say in return imprison me.


Fear of abandonment creeps in as I swirl the aspects of my personality into a hue that will convince them not to drop me in a ditch.
I know, not because I’m afraid, but because I’ve seen it happen, that my trust in them will be burned to ashes eventually and I’ll be yet
Another traitor to the fragile glass of friendships that we all hold together.
Just waiting for them to use my insecurities against me like a time bomb ticking

Ticking

Ticking in my ear.

And I can’t see the timer.

But I laugh along.
And send a relevant emoji.
They laugh at my jokes and I can’t stop thinking about how soon enough they’ll be laughing at
Me.

September 2016

Let’s Get This Straight.
Every twitch, an act of war.
Every memory, a hypothetical.
Cause I’ve know how you see.
Optical nerve to neuron,
down the axon.
I don’t need you to excuse me.
Because I’m not paranoid,
maybe your brain’s the liar,
checked out, unemployed, watching for a misfire.
Unlike you I maintain caution,
sustained options.
And I know you’re always waiting
once I choose fight over flight.
Washin’ blood off my hands, left and right.
No one understands my defense.
It’s Thomas Paine, commonsense.
But they’re just playing,
You’re as much the caged animal as you paint me,
to be patiently playing possum.
No Maya Angelou.
Soon, it’ll be your gossip too.
Cause anyone on the run,
must be the one with gun.
Shut your mouth,
I’m staring straight at your fangs.
Like a snare, it hangs.
Admit your gallows are full.
The bile behind that benign smirk,
Yes, not a smile.
Why?
BECAUSE I’M NOT CRAZY
Maybe.

Pardon me
I think I’ve tracked a mess through the door,
Urine, blood, but I digress, I’ve ruined your floor.
With my whore fluids, general sewage.
I don’t know where it came from,
That’s a lie.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to play dumb.
But I’m struggling with my bloodstream,
Self esteem?
No, I’m just not supposed to be here.
Twitch?
Oh, no that’s just the sub dermal itch.
I’ve got an ant colony,
same as a detox patient.
would an apology be a paradox?
I’m the one not taking medication,
Clonazepam, lorazepam, alprazolam.
BREATH
Don’t worry you won’t notice me.
You see, I’ve got a system, I guarantee.
Cause I put up resistance to my condition.
I don’t scream or cry, I’d rather die.
So I scratch, carve my name with nails,
That patch of skin is now scales.
Then flesh,
ligaments,
mineral bone.
I will not atone for my sin if no one knows.
It isn’t a crime, but you reap what you sow.
But they say its okay,
so long as I never use a blade.
I’m trying to get clean, general hygiene,
my rotting cadaver is labyrinthine.
Because I do not mean to offend.
Please.

Obama was the nicest guy - Intelligent and cool.
Comparatively speaking, his successor plays the fool.
Ridiculous and baseless tweets, The Donald can't avoid.
His recent missives indicate he's turning paranoid.

Barack Obama seems to be Trump's ongoing obsession.
Obama saved the U.S.A. from Bush-induced recession.
The Donald hates Barack's success and can't leave it alone,
and Trump, now "off the rails", claims Obama bugged his phone!

Trump's offered no supporting facts for his emphatic claim.
No warrants from the F.B.I. or C.I.A. to blame.
Perhaps he thinks Barack Obama has a super-power
that lets him fly high in the sky to break into Trump Tower.

So, do you wonder, Donald Trump, just where Barack is now?
Is he there behind the curtains? Is he in the walls somehow?
Is he watching from the ceiling? Is he in the chandelier?
Is he in your 15th closet? Do these thoughts fill you with fear?

Is he down at Mar-a-Lago, in the old groundskeeper's shed?
Is he disguised just like Melania, right there in your bed?
The truth may be much worse than that! Does it fill you with dread,
to realize Barack is living... deep inside your head?

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/lYz2aE59x1E
Written March 11, 2017
#fear   #hiding   #paranoia   #obama   #spy   #paranoid   #donald   #wiretap   #trump   #barack  
Gioo
Gioo
Mar 7

I have you in my sight
Time to take that picture
Saving it with your name
So you can look yourself up

Tell me where you are now
I need to know for your safety
Forget about privacy
Everyone's life is becoming an open book

Film all of your surroundings
to give memories more meaning
You look so much more happier
with that shining bright filter on

Slave of the new media
Need to confirm my existence
So please give me your opinion
to make my wasted days count

Conversations made
through meaningless stares at the screen
Real emotions never shown
Only delivered

Have you heard the news?
Why are you ignoring me?
Because everybody else has heard
about the truth of my lies

Cam
Cam
Mar 6

I’m paranoid in the morning,
I’m paranoid at night.
I know they’re out to get me -
They think that I’m not right

They talk in darkened corners.
They whisper when I’m gone.
I hear their silent mutters,
They haunt me all day long.

I’m running to far off places,
Hiding behind closed doors,
Staring from barred windows,
I’m crawling up the walls.

When they come and get me
They’ll see that I am gone.
I won’t be here to find me.
They think they’re right. They’re wrong.

In his address to Congress,
The Donald brazenly
revealed plans to spread fear through
a brand new agency.

It will report and list all crimes
by each new immigrant,
to heighten paranoia's spread
amongst the ignorant.

By fanning fiery flames of fear,
the bigots shall rejoice,
and they shall love the agency
that Trump is naming "VOICE".

Victims
Of
Immigration
Crime
Engage­ment

Now, I propose an agency
to give another choice,
that balances the propaganda
to be spread by VOICE...

An agency that recognizes
Donald's vile role
as chief hatemonger of the world.
It shall be named, "A$$HOLE".

American
Sociopathic
Shooters
Harming­
Others
Less
Entitled

You can also see this and my other Trump poems at: www.trumpoet.com
Link to video of this poem: https://youtu.be/GleMlZYaxtI
Written: March 5, 2017
#fear   #hate   #voice   #paranoia   #crime   #bigotry   #victims   #racism   #immigration   #trump  

Had a feeling you
Would change on me
That's why I hesitate
To reach out these days
Being burned is never fun
Even from a beach sun
Only trusting myself
A sad state of no help..

no king, at a door
i am sofa king high,
or am i, being had again,
who is this bitch in here,
questioning,
jusify the why am in cohootz with,
RTI,
international, the nationals slow melt from nothing,
elemental magic Lords of deceivers,
stitched out from their flesh,
embryonic anti sources,
like roaches in day light,
how am i the chosen one,
capitally innovative,
i have no inspiriation,
money motivated so i guess i have to keep MY money rhymes,
and nobody wants to hear em dun,
sincerely, they aren't any fun,
do u have ur gun,
i have mine, and the crime,
is on live,  tube on 5,
boy aged 9, has just died,
oh why lord why,
self-immolation,
but its six,
a bag of six,
grams,
subsized by uncle sam.

i feel,
i am,
too many skin cells,
dripping from the window paines,
u can enter me,
through my artery,
shapeshifter,
name sticker,
hello my name is,
broken down,
syllable,
for syllable,
bitch,
i am the greed,
the earth vacuity,
drift in through,
stopped my seed,
of the tortorous,
maleficent,
hell bent drifter,
plasmatic,
plaid static,
but statiscally speaking,
follow what u failed seeking,
and i got mine,
what the fucks the,
blunt with it,
home spinning,
a web of dementia,
fluctuations in the station of my mind,
lost in transition,
driftin dimension,
beam of projection,
one way in
no way out,
im anti procreation,
this is my expropriation,
juxtaposed across my mind,
shot through ya head,
and u die,
death has arrived,
dead on arrival,
but really ur mind is not ur only rival.

#death   #doom   #paranoia   #explicit  
 
To comment on this poem, please log in or create a free account
Log in or register to comment