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Among the grass there is a rose
Beautiful and intricate
He lives in a world of his own
Be he will never be picked
You see
Because he’s different
He’s labelled as a freak
"Touch him and you get a disease"
But they don’t get that
He is just a little boy
Not some dysfunctional toy
That can be sent back
To the factory
With a stamp saying
Broken
Reject
Spaz
People say kids can be cruel
I don’t know why they do what they do
But by saying this you condone it
So they never own it
when they’ve made a little boy question
"What is wrong with me"
When my little brother
Looks me in the eyes saying *****
"Why can’t I be normal?"
A part of me will die
As if normal is something you want to attain
If normal is taking the knife from your back
And stabbing someone three times harder
I'll refrain
His differences change
The way he sees the world
He would never deceive you
Incapable of malice  
He would never be mean to you
His differences will change the world
Albert Einstein
Where do you think he was on the spectrum line
Still people don’t see him
He loves everyone
Still people choose to beat him
To tear him down
Not all of this has happened now
But another part of me will die
When he goes to school
And I look into his eyes
Black and blue
Because he didn’t understand
that what he did was little strange
so, some kid raised their hand
and tried and rearrange
his beautiful face
the thought makes me physical ache
a person with autism is not disabled
no
they are enabled
to see the world for what it is
my brother
I would die
if it meant
Those big brown eyes
Are never made
to cry.
Sorry this is a bit off a long poem, but I feel that this issue really needs to be addressed. People with autism suffer in silence and on top of that they are being torn down and bullied for something that makes them beautiful for the way they were born.
March 16 2019

Iam not a piece of your puzzle
To be forced into your picture
Iam my own riddle
My own lights fixture

Although i may amuse you
Inside its a nightmare
Or A beautiful wonderland
Although my actions confuse you
To me. They just make sense man.

I may not speak like you
But I'd just wish you'd understand
My mind may just confuse you
But there. You are right. It can

Who am i but a misprint
The one with coiled bindings
So i may not speak to you
But only in my rhymings

I look empty and hollow
A shell inside and out
And my eyes see right through you
So you shout and shout and shout

My brain. My cage.
My mind. A maze
My face. In a daze. My imagination
That is my only place
And nobody but me can see it

Forever i dwell alone.
For being born
For being different inside
I can never connect to your world
So i made up my own. I tried

A bubble in the sky
I fly and fly and float and fly
Around me i see so many eyes
So i cry of their stares.
Yes. Like you i cry

My emotions are not outside
But inside it is never dry
If i could talk to any of you
You'd see. Iam just a nice guy...
Sonetimes. Arent we all like that
Yes. I have aspbergers
And yes i have no friends here
But it wasnt always this way
Age makes us enemies
But childhood made us allies

The world always amused me with its way
Of. Conform or die
Conform or be my enemy
Be this way. That way. Or you disgust me
Locked up in a cage
Because nobody understands you
Autism is all around you
A different brain wave.
Yep. Kinda true
I am proud of you
Even tho you cannot speak
A kiss i place upon your cheek
You try and talk to me each day
Although you cannot find the words to say
I know you can not  communicate
So as your mother i learned to translate
All the sounds and all the noises
I know one day that you'll surprise us
But if that day never comes
I will always hear you
For my non vebal  autistic son
Gandy Lamb Mar 14
As you are reading this
I am standing right behind you
SHING
ha! Fool, you're too slow.
I've teleported exactly 5402.4 miles away from your location already.
This is the power of my metacognition.
Jesus may have walked on water, but my metacognition powers have changed the course of history
Afterall, who won world war 1, 2, gave birth to Albert Einstein and Elon Musk and founded America?
It was only because of the genius of my metacognition
And now, after collecting the 8 chaos emeralds
I have emerged from a chrysalis
And evolved into the perfect being
FEAR ME,FOR MY METACOGNITION LEVELS HAVE ASCENDED TO 5 MILLION TIMES THEIR NORMAL STATE
Worship me, puny mortals
Nomkhumbulwa Mar 9
He lives just round the corner,
A little boy of only 4 years old;
Born so long before his time,
He is not a typical 4 year old.

He has already survived so much,
Just in this very short time;
Conquered everything he has faced,
Time and time again.

He is kind of a miracle,
Or at least I think he is,
For in his earliest days
Only his mummy truly knew he would live.

I changed my last verse
As I failed to give him credit,
Nobody knew if he would pull through,
But I believe his mummy knew he would make it.

She too is a miracle,
A pillar of never ending strength,
She deserves a poem of her own,
To make it all make sense.

But I chose to write about Callum,
As he is a very special little boy;
After all that he has been through,
He has brought with him so much joy.

He's had tubes up his nose,
Things pumped into his belly,
But taken it all in his stride,
Eyes glued to the telly.

He may be a little behind,
In terms of speech and development,
But he certainly makes up for that
In terms of enjoyment.

He battled to enter this world,
And so rightly so;
Callum firmly belongs here
Anyone who knows him would say so.

His speech has come on leaps and bounds,
Just in these recent months,
So nice to hear him talking,
Talking and able to make sense.

He does have his melt downs,
Not able to get his point across,
But all to be expected,
We line up cars and let it pass.

What I really wanted to write about
Is what he has done for me;
This little boy with all his problems
Has had such an impact on me.

I do not think about what he cannot do,
What he can say, whether he can tie his shoe,
I simply appreciate the way he is,
And focus on what he can do.

In my struggles in my strange world,
Callum is an absolute delight,
I know his mummy sees more of the other side,
I've only been there for short periods of day or night.

For anyone with anxiety
Callum is highly medicinal;
One of the many reasons I believe
That he is a medical miracle.

I maybe shaking before hand
But after spending time with Callum,
I leave calm and relaxed,
As well as having had so much fun.

With his cheeky little smile,
And a head once full of many curls,
His little eyes would melt anyones heart
They light up the room, as he pulls it apart.

He's now a tough little cookie,
He's shown that many a time;
Whether its suffering cold after cold,
Or outside barefeet on the stones!

He knows how to get up to mischief,
We play the light switch game a lot;
He knows what he wants from the kitchen,
He will take you by the hand and tell you whats what!

To me Callum has a bright future,
Regardless of being a little behind;
There is so much more to life,
Than just doing things at the right time.

To me its a "symbiosis",
In Biological terms,
I look after him,
But he helps me too, in return.

I dont know what he will be when he's older,
But I do know he's already a therapist!
"Callum sitting on prescription"
Should be a common request!

I could write so much more about Callum,
But my brain right now is in a mess,
Although when I see him again,
I'm sure he'll re-wire it, and put it to the test!

He is a special little boy,
With a bright shining light;
A bright shining flashing light in fact -
We all know how much he loves lights!

One day he may be embarrassed,
When mummy reads him this rhyme;
When he's old enough to understand,
And to reflect on these lines.

But Callum, all I can say is Thank you -
For brightening all our lives;
Thank you so much Callum-
You help me to survive :)

....lots of love...Aunty Emma :) ***
I wrote this a while back, for my neighbour.  But I didnt want to share it until I had given it to her.
Gandy Lamb Mar 1
What does it mean to be a human?


























































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idk
im not even a human anyways
C Burman Feb 14
The world is made of crisp clear lines.
It’s nice when things are clear and clean, but
Sometimes the lights brighten and the lines grow sharp.
Sharp enough to cut.
When the world is made of sharp and bright lines,
Things start to hurt.
Everything is too loud.
It’s not crisp or clear because everyone is talking
And it hurts.
My head feels fuzzy and the lights are still too bright.
When everything is sharp and fuzzy and loud and bad,
I take off my glasses.
It doesn’t stop the lights from glaring,
Or the people from talking,
But it makes the lines a bit less sharp.
Egeria Litha Feb 11
A man on the spectrum

he barely makes the status

he is the first color in the rainbow

the darkest shade to define the fade

You barely notice his autistic ways
his mother never considered it

as he watched 15 hours of tv a day

his teachers mistook him for passive

girls thought he was dorky and shy

men thought he was obedient

no one noticed his blank eyes or
complete lack of ****** drive

He only enjoys holding and kissing me
any farther and he starts having a panic attack

but he bleeds red for the one he cares about
he bleeds the color of his rainbow

and he can't handle arguments
with sarcasm and lies
they confuse his simple mind


his heart is good and his thoughts
are budda like

And maybe if his mother caught on

to his small vocabulary

and heard his speech impediment,

he would have ended up

brown from the earth

muddied with medications

a patch nothing grows on

with a title that would haunt him all his life

Disorder
Johnny Feb 1
I say
It's the lights that I see.

No.

I ask
Is it the sounds that I hear?

No, no.

They say
It's your autism, my dear.
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