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Bekah Halle Apr 2020
Eight years ago, foggily I awoke from a 40-day deep, deep deep, sleep,

Seven times I've adorned the sackcloth, which may continue seventy times seven in acceptance of my new reality.

Six years of gratitude directed my heavy heart and thoughts, to reframe and good perspective keep.

Five rehabilitation programs, cross country, helped regain vital functionality, to commence

Four years of study, processing grief, re-skill, and grow more confidently, despite my

Three-second memory retention, slowly, but surely, my amazing brain rewired grey space. My

Two eyes view life in fragments hoping to be restored, by the

One Almighty God, who has blessed me with life; I stand in awe of His grace.
This is a tribute to my recovery journey from a stroke and coma. I will be forever grateful for big and small moments and experiences of healing.
Mayank Garg May 2022
I can't make out since how long I have been here
It seems like ages but it can't be fair

I was in a world which was far and different from ours
No their were neither planet nor the stars

It was all empty with a sheet of darkness all around
It was a place where time has no bound

I was neither feeling happy nor have I any kind of grief
I am at loss of words in explaining that sensation in brief

Once I leave this place I may never be at peace again.
Will be lost in haze of materialistic world and might experience tremendous pain.

Away from worldly pleasures was the place where I was.
I wanna be here forever and peace was the utmost cause
Alienpoet Dec 2021
The feel of the pen
on the paper
the poet grabs a verse.

the dripping of morphine
the flow of endorphins
flow of electronic lines
across the monitor
let’s hope we don’t flatline

this mere mortal
needs a portal to the stars
this mere mortal needs
defibrillation to the heart
the way the poetry forms
in the lungs and the mind
the way life needs beauty
is sometimes unkind

I am the blood transfusion
the illusion
of poems
bells chime
Electrons flow
Radioactive  X-rays know
Poetry opens doors

I am the emergency poet
I will take flight
in flames
never shall I be tamed
But I will make that heart beat
and get you out of your seat
And on the road to recovery
and discovery

Because poetry heals
and steals back our songs
what could go wrong?
R N Tolliday Oct 2021
From the black sky, rain starts falling down
Makes my emotions softly settle down

In thorny path, I’m crawling…
Saying to myself, not to fall apart
To search for what I’ve never seen

No one knows what’s waiting ahead of life
Hopes and fears, take my conscious out

In thorny path, I’m crawling…
Saying to myself, not to fall apart
To search for what I’ve never seen

Saying to myself, not to fall apart…
A song by AS MEIAS
Daisy Ashcroft Jun 2021
midnight and i'm still here
tapping out words in the hope
that i'll write something worthy
of reading.

the instructions aren't clear:
am i supposed to sleep
or work on word therapy

i don't care now
just turn on tiktok
and i'll slip into my beloved
mind coma
Clay Face Nov 2020
The one who’s behind you is the one you love.
Something else calls you’re name, tickles your ear.
But what happened to the intuition of what was and is so true?
Ticks on your shoulders, did they wait for you?
Left you in corruption, an unsound view.

The trade is so strong, kills your brawn but what can you do? The pain never ends, when no one wins, you can only die in this life. The paper god on your tongue melts you into glue.

It’s agonizing as you bind the world.
Nothing splits you but your pulled by all.
Reality stretches your skin, your mind loses sight and you’re paranoid. It will never end.

And it never ends
And it never ends
And it never ends

A woman evolves from the colors on the wall.
Strange and hairy, lament grows as her fur.
Scintillating messages of life and death they call.
Who am I, and who are you?
I’m speaking in tenses contradictory to a single point of view.
I can hear her scream, as she shaves her pits.
So beautiful it serenades my mind and scars my eyes.

I’ll never have her, and she dissolves into the bars of this cell again. I’m coming down or I’m blasting off, so hard to tell when god digests so well. Release my mind. It will never end.

And it never ends
And it never ends
And it never ends

Pierced skin, stained skin, ripped skin, all over her.
She’s broken and odd, but so close to me, I can’t help but connect.
The cover of her book is blank and new.
Pages are torn and ******, nothing to awe but still novel inside.

It drains me as it’s end never finds an end.
I can’t belong here when I’m rinsed of life and I dry as glue.
Bound and confound I can’t decide what voice to choose.
You’re on the right and I’m on the left, in the middle is me and we are you.
The nurse draws a bath and I am rinsed.
Drooling in comatose they wipe your lip.
Who new god had a price and came in a sheet.
That little square is the key to become like me.
So free from what’s contrived when you can’t decide the difference in truth.

The days go by and the years turn to seconds.
The nurse whispers in our ear, your mother is here and we start to cry. She holds our hand.
And it ends.

And it ends
And it ends

It ends.
Max Neumann Nov 2019
a daughter
named seble
seven years old

being in a coma

she couldn't hear her
daddy's words

she couldn't see him
fog in front of her eyes
covering differences of
sleep and wakefulness

oneday seble's father
who was desparate
put headphones
on seble's ears

lyrics from two tall germans
they are called the
"wildecker herzbuben"

"herz" means heart and a
"bube" is a boy

closed eyes
slowly breathing

seble's father is called
rapidly breathing

brhane was pressing play
and after seconds
among lurid lights

moved her head
seble closed eyes smiled
as the wildecker herzbuben sang:

"Ein letztes Glas'l mit alten Freunden
die geh'n allein nach Haus.
In den Straßen
in den Gassen
geh'n langsam die Lichter aus."

a last drink with my buddies
who go home alone
in the streets
in the alleys
the lights are vanishing

seble moved her head
no windows but
her daddy was there

sebles mother is not alive
brhane prayed
holding his daughter's hand

seble opened one eye
looking at brhane

seble came back to reality when
brhan had finished his talk to

the end of seble's and brhane's
story is wordless
Psychostasis Oct 2019
Mom called.
She said something happened at your friends.
She said, the result of whatever cataclysm took place there, left you asleep.
You still haven't woken up.

Not fully.

You've moved your hand a couple of times, and your eyes but
They say you're still fighting your way out of it.

I know your mom died.
You're probably dreaming dreams of being with her now, dancing in your living room
On a warm summer night, without a care in the world.
I need you to know that it's okay to be tired.
I'm tired, too.
My eyes all yearn to shut and stay shut till my soul can rest.
Sleep as much as you'd like,
And rest.
But please, do wake up soon.
I don't want you to become enchanted by the world you're staying in
And end up becoming a permanent resident of the Dreamland destined for Lost souls.
neth jones Oct 2019
drown by the lake pier

i fish to sleep forever

never wash ashore
self semi plagiarized
Anti Haiku
Alexa Apr 2019
out there
doesn't have a mom.

You say "Everyone has a mom".
Well, get this.

Someone's mother
was born in the 70's,
with bipolar disorder.
Quite the disaster.
This was before
people knew how to address
things like that,
so instead it was
hidden away.

Someone's mother
turned to drugs
to make herself feel okay
but it didn't really turn out that way.
By the time she was 22
she had two daughters,
but no source of stability.

Someone's mother
overdosed one (two? three?)too many times
and got arrested for
possession of illegal drugs.

Someone's mother
had to sing
"You Are My Sunshine"
with her hand up to glass,
instead of with her hand
in her daughter's.

forgot to give their mother
one last hug

Someone's mother's
last OD
resulted in laying
on a couch for
three days.
Someone's mother
went into
a coma.

was told
to say goodbye
to her mother,
and said
"She can't hear me.
Why should I say goodbye
if she can't hear me?"

was without a mother
at 11 years old.

had a sister that stole
*** from her mother.

grew up
not really knowing
what was going on.

out there
doesn't have a mom.
This poem is my science teacher's story. "Someone" is my science teacher. I wrote this poem to help gain the perspective that I have. That not every child grows up in the loving home that they deserve to grow up in. But you kind of need to hear the story in person, surrounded by a class of crying people to feel it.
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