Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Jul 2016 Apachi Ram Fatal
Imotional
Why would you say that?
I know it's maths
but to say "that 3% of the population are gay that's one in the class.
Who do you think is the ***?
Let's find 'em"
is not appropriate.

You didn't realise
that 3% was sat in front of you
feeling like they can't come out
because of people like you
who talk as if they're bad
like you're going to beat them down
verbally or physically.

You don't realise that people are afraid
to say who they are
they feel as though they're shamed
because of who they are.
It's people like me under your verbal attack
and everyone else questions
why you would say that?
Some idiot in maths was saying this stuff and it made me angry because of how ignorant he is. Also, it's 10% but for my school it probably is less than 3%.
Girls like her
were born in a storm.
They have lightning in their souls,
Thunder in their hearts,
and chaos in their bones.
Apachi Ram Fatal Jul 2016
Mr Fickle Winkled me into
a Pickle Can Anyone Stop the

Hammer And Sickle Look
at me You're a violent twinkle

causing Mistaken silence still
Fighting Skull and Bones stop

the Violent Hurricane bane
Drain the plane from disdain

cram the eulogy Dust bury
Pharaohs underground Pound

a fountain of Sonic Youth
Chord at the Court of God

incinerate the grin made in sin
Losing trust in Faith
  Jul 2016 Apachi Ram Fatal
Lora Lee
I will never be
ensconced in
charming lace
valentine
            hearts
candypink encased
You will not see me
withering away
back of hand
          upon brow
in fainting stance
in a flowing silk dress
swinging on a
           perfect bough
For I am a river
wild and true
sometimes quiet
sometimes
roaring and
             soaring in
shimmering hues:
Blues and greens
mixed with shades
           of earth, of fire
bespeaking emotions
in tones of desire
My river can get messy
can flood over too fast
because my heartstrings
                       get pulled
by the strength of
                        the blast
It can bring up
colored stones
in its undertow
fish and otters
spinning
in voodoo
          overflow

As the colors rise up
in this heated coolness,
                          this deluge
the influx overwhelms me
with a power so huge
and then I need
     some metallics,
flecks of silver and gold
to soothe
passion's piquancy
                when it gets
                   particularly bold
                      Specked within rocks
                    to ground me, keep
               my feet on the soil
             prevent my heart
          from slipping
       down into
     a choking,
         hot oil

Bronze minerals reflect
peaks of sadness,
     searing pain
        from rawness of hurt
          with no one to blame
             Yes, it can be a balm
                         and also a burn
to be so linked
by spirit-threads
to another, in emotions
that churn
just on the brink
but never truly there
to experience the
         fullness of rush
ripe culmination
abundant and lush

and that's when the
river turns
into molten
              lava...
and I must dig
deep under
layers of ancient strata
seeking relief
in coolness of earth
as my spirit
             again undergoes
              a kind of rebirth
For when we
grow to love
strange things
happen, indeed
       In the core of
my essence
you are the root
of my
        seed
https://soundcloud.com/musichick-1/the-colors-of-this-river-***
  Jun 2016 Apachi Ram Fatal
RAJ NANDY
Dear Poet friends. After reading Dolly Lama’s poem ‘Poetry Helps Heal’, I was reminded of a poem I composed many years ago titled ‘The Healing Power of Poetry’. This poem is not a work of fiction, but based on reality. Hope you like it, and tell your friends to read the same. Thanks, - Raj, New Delhi.


  THE HEALING POWER OF POETRY:
    KNOWN  AS  ‘BIBLIOTHERAPY’

The word Poetry derives from the Greek word ‘poesis’,
Which means ‘a making’ of a literary art form,
Where language is used for its evocative, aesthetic,
and emotional response.
A poem is an emotional-intellectual-physical construct, -
meant to touch its reader’s heart!
Poetry links one individual to another by its
distilled experience.
Through its rhythm of words and imagery,  -
driving away our inner loneliness!

‘Words are the physicians of the diseased mind’, -
Oceanus  tells Prometheus in ancient Greek
Mythology.
Thus the Oracles at Delphi used the healing power
of poetry, -
Through their various ritualistic chants and
incantations;
And tamed many a savage mind into subjugation!

The Roman physician Soranus in the First Century
AD,
Had prescribed poetry and drama for his patients
who were mentally oppressed;
Tragedy for his maniac patients, and Comedy for
the depressed.
The great psychiatrist Sigmund Freud had clarified,
That it was not he but the Poet, who had discovered
the Subconscious Mind!
Freud went on to say that the human mind is a
poetry-making *****;
Focus of ‘poetry for healing’ is self-expression and
growth of the individual.
Whereas focus of ‘poetry as an art’ becomes the
very poem itself!
But both use the same technique Freud had said;
Words, rhythm, metaphors, sound, and images,
But in the end the result is the same.
The word ‘therapy’ comes from the Greek word
‘therapeia’, -
Meaning to nurse or cure through dance, song,
drama or poetry;
Perhaps the divine way to poetic therapy!
It is therefore not surprising that Asclepius, the
Greek God of Healing,
Is the son of Apollo, the God of Poetry and Medicine!

The first hospital for the mentally ill in the American
Colonies,
Was set up in Pennsylvania in 1751, by Benjamin
Franklin.
Where a number of ancillary treatments were used,
Including the writing of poetry and reading it aloud.
Written by the patients who were mentally ill.  @ (see notes)
‘Bibliotherapy’ was the term used for poetic therapy,
Which had become popular during the Sixties and
the Seventies.
It was also effectively used in Group Therapy,
With patients sharing their feeling and emotions,
Providing a release for their inner pain and tension !
The rhythm and repetition of words often created
a hypnotic trance, -
Reaching out to those ‘secret places’ - creating a
bridge, -
To that unconscious mind from which poetry springs!
Friends, in support of what I have just said let me
quote,
Those immortal lines which Robert Frost once wrote;-
“The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
  But I have promises to keep,
  And miles to go before I sleep,
  And miles to go before I sleep” # (see notes below)

Foot Notes: ** Initially poetry was ****** recited and also sung to the accompaniment of the lyre. After the invention of  writing, it started to develop its own form. Forms make arrangement out of derangement, harmony out of discord, and order out of chaos!
@= Writings of some of these patients were also published in a newspaper titled “The Illuminator”.
# = Lines quoted above are from Robert Frost’s famous poem, “Stopping by The Woods on A Snowy Evening”, - were extensively
used for poetic therapy at the Hospital.
        All Copy Rights Reserved By the Author Raj Nandy

--------------------------------------------------------­------------------------
  Jun 2016 Apachi Ram Fatal
Lora Lee
You
      I see
in smile-crinkled eyes
our later emotional distance
would have led
to my demise

You
how we reunified
awkward, then sweet
I almost didn’t recognize
              this frail man
standing by
the train station street
only when you
waved, started
limping did I understand
       And I said, "No! Wait" and
flew over to you,
a five-year- wait
for a bearhug
  so long overdue

You had forgotten your cane
in the excitement
of it all
My heart was strained
in tenderness
and worry that you
would fall

You
only you
could always make me
laugh uncontrollably
embarrassing me
in NY streets
   with songs and general madness
teaching me about life
on our city walks
and talks
observations made
through Second Avenue
diners
   and Sunday parks
our secret language
           and made-up
funky creature
our "who's gonna eat
the most spicy thing"
an essential
Chinese restaurant
                  feature

I cried each night
for a month
after you left the house
          thinking you left because of me
even though you and mom
explained it countless times
that this was untrue
but alas--- seven-year-olds
have their reveries
and when you did remarry-
a few years later
I grew to love her, too

My crazy-sweet
quietly loving
always open to me
never judging
How I hurt you
So unintentionally
And how finally,
in such grace,
you came back to me

You
are still my precious
bear hug sweet daddy
survivor of war
of car accidents
always wanting me
to meet my dreams
I think of you, now
so lonely
over there
I sit in my solitude
quietly stare

How ironic
We are again close
yet an ocean apart
a phone line's airwave
away
from my
        open heart



'
For my Dad. Love always
Your favorite song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l3LFML_pxlY
Next page