kathleen-m-1 - Hello Poetry

The cup crashes to the floor, it shatters spitting it's contents out. The man smiles, he squats. He carefully scoops the broken porcelain into his left hand. He squeezes tight. Blood drips from his clenched fist and hits the cool tile mixing with the spilt tea. The florescent lighting swings overhead. His smile is now just clenched teeth. The only thing in his life that he has any kind of a grip on are the sharp peices cutting into his hand. The ground lurches up at him quickly. His head bounces off the floor and his hand unclenches releasing ****** peices of porcelain. Hes having a hard time remembering, what's his name? what's his name? Did he drink out of the broken cup? what was in it? Where is he? His head jerks up off the floor face wet with tea and blood. The floor is hardwood, it needs to be refinished badly. The light flickers and switches off. He struggles to his knees and hears a shuffling in the shadows. He freezes and a dim blue light fills the room. He flexes his hand and the remaining peices of porcelain fall off and hit the ground, they make such a satisfying sound. He turns scanning the room unable to decipher the shadows.

0

Nov 24, 2019

Nov 24, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC

****** Porcelain

The cup crashes to the floor, it shatters spitting it's contents out. The man smiles, he squats. He carefully scoops the broken porcelain into his left hand. He squeezes tight. Blood drips from his clenched fist and hits the cool tile mixing with the spilt tea. The florescent lighting swings overhead. His smile is now just clenched teeth. The only thing in his life that he has any kind of a grip on are the sharp peices cutting into his hand. The ground lurches up at him quickly. His head bounces off the floor and his hand unclenches releasing ****** peices of porcelain. Hes having a hard time remembering, what's his name? what's his name? Did he drink out of the broken cup? what was in it? Where is he? His head jerks up off the floor face wet with tea and blood. The floor is hardwood, it needs to be refinished badly. The light flickers and switches off. He struggles to his knees and hears a shuffling in the shadows. He freezes and a dim blue light fills the room. He flexes his hand and the remaining peices of porcelain fall off and hit the ground, they make such a satisfying sound. He turns scanning the room unable to decipher the shadows.

2

Have you ever heard of medication induced bipolar. Three years of complete insanity. None of it was me. It wasnt me. It never came from me. I sit on the same couch hallucination free. Such ******* clarity. It all makes sense. I was never paranoid, the medication was paranoid. I could scream till my lungs collapse "IT WASNT ME. NONE OF IT WAS MY FAULT. I WASNT MYSELF" I was loaded with antipsychotics that made me psychotic. The second I made my environment safe and came off the prescriptions it all went away. It was never me. I wasnt myself. It wasnt my fault. I dont have to blame me. All of it was drugs and environment. I was grieving the death of my first love and I was ***** in my own home where I thought I was safe. I snapped and I thought it was my fault. It wasnt insanity it was a normal human response to trauma and grief. I was just a person hit with some painful events. I was just a human brain trying desperately to cope with my reality. I didnt **** my relationship, I wasnt crazy, it wasnt me, I didn't do it. It was never me.

0

Nov 24, 2019

Nov 24, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC

medication induced bipolar

Have you ever heard of medication induced bipolar. Three years of complete insanity. None of it was me. It wasnt me. It never came from me. I sit on the same couch hallucination free. Such ******* clarity. It all makes sense. I was never paranoid, the medication was paranoid. I could scream till my lungs collapse "IT WASNT ME. NONE OF IT WAS MY FAULT. I WASNT MYSELF" I was loaded with antipsychotics that made me psychotic. The second I made my environment safe and came off the prescriptions it all went away. It was never me. I wasnt myself. It wasnt my fault. I dont have to blame me. All of it was drugs and environment. I was grieving the death of my first love and I was ***** in my own home where I thought I was safe. I snapped and I thought it was my fault. It wasnt insanity it was a normal human response to trauma and grief. I was just a person hit with some painful events. I was just a human brain trying desperately to cope with my reality. I didnt **** my relationship, I wasnt crazy, it wasnt me, I didn't do it. It was never me.

12

The light's different I'm heavy with thought It pours out of my ears Could this have been in there the whole time Under my nose Under the surface Like poisonous gas in the lakebed

0

Nov 24, 2019

Nov 24, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC

Untitled

The light's different I'm heavy with thought It pours out of my ears Could this have been in there the whole time Under my nose Under the surface Like poisonous gas in the lakebed

7

You're a dumb dude Secretly filming the **** You do shady *** **** and write poems about it 35 and writing like your 15 With poems like yours it's not hard to be mean Your just a man out of his prime bent on the obsene The cops coming to your house clearly didn't freak you out So maybe I'll tell your mom what your all about. You **** and I hate everything about you. Stop writing poems about me.

0

Dec 19, 2018

Dec 19, 2018 at 8:26 PM UTC

A poem about a man I do not like part 1

You're a dumb dude Secretly filming the **** You do shady *** **** and write poems about it 35 and writing like your 15 With poems like yours it's not hard to be mean Your just a man out of his prime bent on the obsene The cops coming to your house clearly didn't freak you out So maybe I'll tell your mom what your all about. You **** and I hate everything about you. Stop writing poems about me.

9

The man behind the curtain returns to the unseen after an extended factory tour. No guests linger.

0

Mar 28, 2018

Mar 28, 2018 at 11:48 PM UTC

Untitled

The man behind the curtain returns to the unseen after an extended factory tour. No guests linger.

2

There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue. The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up. I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound. I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers. Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes, rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk, knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over. I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself. Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before? Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls, I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation. I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift. I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him. I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world. Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening. You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to. There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind. Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride. I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention. Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.

0

Mar 9, 2018

Mar 9, 2018 at 8:50 PM UTC

The experience

There is a light, it's flickering a pale white blue. The carpet is rough on my face, silence permeates the house. I should get up. I should pull myself into personhood. My hands tremor, I let my finger tips find the end of the carpet. Skimming the floor boards shaking fingers beginning to tap tap tap out the only sound. I used to drink the restlessness away, now I am left a craving in its place. Tap tap tap say the fingers. Violent imagery flashes across my mind, car crashes, rending metal, glass breaking, bones snapping there are sharp falls and hit and runs and stabbing on the sidewalk, knife sliding into my flesh. Leaping into oncoming traffic, my heart skipping beats and laughter always my laughter. The final moment of freedom replayed over an over. I can't tell you why it makes me smile, I don't know why myself. Tap tap tap tap tap irrattic finger tips might be getting angry. Have your limbs been angry at you before? Rolling over the popcorn ceiling swirls, I realized a while back if I pay attention to the patterns they shift, I hallucinate mildly on most days. I think I might miss it if I were being honest. I focus on my skin, the way the air touches it, the way cold feels, if I savour this enough I almost feel high, high is almost always on the other side of sensation. I might always be a touch high compared to how the average Joe feels. This is not a desirable state, but if you talk to me tomorrow I might say it's a gift. I slowly stand, my knees cracking fingertips tap tap tapping up the wall. Giving up drinking was like giving up one of my last connections to my dearly departed. Gin and alcoholism kept a part of him close to me. Medication and therapy take me further and further away from the person who knew him. I walk barefoot, the texture of the floor boards underfoot, stepping into the kitchen I pull a wine glass from the cupboard. I want to hear it sing, I flick the glass, I hold the opening of the glass near my ear. I can feel the sound touching my ear. Soft ringing until it's quiet again, I've tried to savour the experience by listening in to the sounds of my world. Listening to the slow crunch of a crisp apple, the sound of the city, the bubbling of the fish tank. Perfect beautiful sounds ripe with happening. You can hear the happening of what is at all times if you choose to. There are other ways to savour, I think it helps to be here and now, the savouring it I mean. By "it" I mean everything your senses allow you to perceive, the everything that is your sensory image of the world around you. Your brain built the image of the world, it's a reflection of you. The world is a mirror to your mind. Often the reflection is not something I'm proud of, other times I'm exploding with pride. I wish I could share what I've found with him, but I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't paying attention. Attention to here and now has been the key I keep dropping and picking up.

17

So it's been been a few years now Your memories still scream from underground Ya mamma tells the world about your sister talking to your ashes Posts a picture talking your ashes See me and your sister got something the same Oh we talk to your ashes And we cry your name See I got to know your brothers and we are the same We are talking to your ashes Oh we cry your name You left to early gave up on the game Cut it all too short I'll never be the same See I see people like you and I hold on too hard I'm afraid they'll do like you And dearly depart

0

Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 11:57 PM UTC

After Death

So it's been been a few years now Your memories still scream from underground Ya mamma tells the world about your sister talking to your ashes Posts a picture talking your ashes See me and your sister got something the same Oh we talk to your ashes And we cry your name See I got to know your brothers and we are the same We are talking to your ashes Oh we cry your name You left to early gave up on the game Cut it all too short I'll never be the same See I see people like you and I hold on too hard I'm afraid they'll do like you And dearly depart

18

I am a lake I am full of turmoil and water There is thick mud at the bottom All kinds of things get stuck There are bodies buried inside me My chest is full of corpses I ripple with every disturance Surface tension broken by those who do not lightly tread I tend to overflow I tend to spread the bog

0

Feb 28, 2018

Feb 28, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC

Oct 2017

I am a lake I am full of turmoil and water There is thick mud at the bottom All kinds of things get stuck There are bodies buried inside me My chest is full of corpses I ripple with every disturance Surface tension broken by those who do not lightly tread I tend to overflow I tend to spread the bog

9

Do you know The shape of the my mind The glimpses I catch Give me a fright Pretty please tell me What do you see? Are the images less frightening Than I've known them to be How do I put it together How does the baggage become the feather The philosophy tells me What Will be will be And acceptance of the facts is the way to be free Free of expectations And the following disappointment An accidental acquisition easily defeated by intention

0

Feb 28, 2018

Feb 28, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC

The shape

Do you know The shape of the my mind The glimpses I catch Give me a fright Pretty please tell me What do you see? Are the images less frightening Than I've known them to be How do I put it together How does the baggage become the feather The philosophy tells me What Will be will be And acceptance of the facts is the way to be free Free of expectations And the following disappointment An accidental acquisition easily defeated by intention

16

My bipolar will make sure I'm alone It will take all the fun parts of my relationship It will take the playfulness It will take away kisses in the kitchen Stealing the tickles and wrestling Killing the early morning giggles It's eating my relationship from the inside out Its going to eat all the things I loved about being in love He's gonna hate me I will be alone before he leaves I will make him hate me And I can't turn it off

0

Feb 28, 2018

Feb 28, 2018 at 1:58 AM UTC

Bipolar nose dive

My bipolar will make sure I'm alone It will take all the fun parts of my relationship It will take the playfulness It will take away kisses in the kitchen Stealing the tickles and wrestling Killing the early morning giggles It's eating my relationship from the inside out Its going to eat all the things I loved about being in love He's gonna hate me I will be alone before he leaves I will make him hate me And I can't turn it off

12