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Kat 2d
Body —
I love you but I cannot contain my frustration right now.
I tell you I am fine, and happy, and safe, so why do you shake like a leaf in the wind, make me dizzy when I try to read, weigh me down with heavy exhaustion, make me feel that I will faint or fall —

Body —
You respond to fear to the sensations you create — racing heart, shallow breaths, physical symptoms leading to more physical symptoms;
You do not need to panic, so why do you panic so and set my thoughts racing in turn?

Body —
Why do you hurt when you are not supposed to,
When I walk or bake or speak or type or laugh —Teeth aching, muscles tightening, back burning, making me fear that you have been injured again?
You have taken so much from me — couldn’t you have at least spared my hobbies? My voice?

Body —
Was it not enough to make you whole —
The year and a half I spent out of school,
The visits to the hospital,
The meditations and the PT and the acupuncture and the walking and the resting and the dozens of doctors and all the other things I have tried to make you content,
To make you go back to what you were like before?

And maybe this should be a letter to my mind instead,
For it is not my body but my mind that does not work as it should —
My muscles are not torn,
My bones are not cracked,
My joints do not swell;
It is my mind that creates the pain and the tremors and the dizziness and the fatigue and the migraines and the panic and more —
But I feel that my mind has brought suffering enough,
Years of mental illness that I have written about in dozens of poems,
So I will turn instead and write this letter to my

Body -
You are beautiful, not broken, even though some days it is hard to believe,
Hard to believe that you do not want to hurt me,
Hard to believe that you are not some sort of cruel punishment from the universe,
Hard to believe that I can love you as much as I should —

But see, body, I need to remember that you are so ******* strong —
You have been starved and cut and bruised and poked with needles more times than I can count and yet you still allow me to
Write poetry and walk and breathe and eat and drink and laugh and love and this is a gift —
And by showing me what it is like to feel sick,
You have shown me how grateful I am for the things that I can still do.

Body -
You are not fragile, a twig to be broken under a shoe, a feather to be weighed down in rain —
You are stronger than I could ever imagine,
And as the years go on, I know that I will come to witness even more
The capable wonderful thing
That you are.
Poetic T Jul 25
I'm a broken piano
             missing keys..

But if doesn't matter what
            I lack I'll evolve
myself to play without
    
             the necessity of what
others use and make more of
            what i have rather

than what I don't and my symphony

           will be one to  astound
the sensibility of all who listen to it.
Dante Jun 10
Who?

Who would come lay their hand on me
in the thickness of my confusion;
The thickness of my Love.

Will you offer your Hand to me
in my fog
And when home is lost to me
Will you tell me where it is?

Will you salt the wound that needs to sting before
it begins to heal,
Will you salt my wounds for me?

O mystery; Who will you be?
Will you Taste me and spit me out,
for fear of keeping a lukewarm thing in your mouth,
Your mouth, Steady with change.

Will you know I too am steady with change,
Will you know I too am an eager student?
Will you keep me in your mouth,
the days I am not burning and delicious?

Will you forget me
Will you let go of my hand
And forget me in the fog
Steve Clarke Apr 29
I am a woman
with a defective gene
living beyond expectation
I am more than an illness

I am a man
whose skin is shaded
refusing to be excluded
I am not just a black

I am a woman
wearing modest clothing
respecting my faith
I am more than a hijab

I am a man
who is proudly
owning my sexuality
I am not just a gay

I am a person
who is more than just labels
defining my what
or who I am

I am a woman
I am a man
I am a person
I am a noun
I am not your adjectives
I am my own
I am me
I am
A poem about identity and that no single adjective is our 'identity noun', only the accumulation of all of our adjectives.
There is a rush to throwing yourself into a wave.
A certain giddiness or
a daring hope,
that this time
you will make it to the other side.
Head high and anxiety low,
Able to reassure yourself that
Yes, you can do it.

It is such a rush
that when the ocean breaks on your head,
you know that underwater is temporary,
And bearable.
So here you go.
Set your eyes on that wave,
tell yourself,
this time I will do it.
I will never know
If I don’t try after all.

So what if I have been here,
been trying, for years?
The water laps at my neck, as I cough.
I have been at sea for so long,
my muscles ache, heart most of all.
I keep trying, though
My lips are blue,
glabrous flesh has wrinkled,
And I can hardly see
for all the salt in my eyes.
Brine?
Tears?
I can’t tell.

Though I crave to rest,
The sea does not care.
Each attempt leeching heat,
and locks growing green as kelp.
I fear that should I rest now,
I would never see shore again.
But rather,
find my new bed is one of the sea,
Where I could sleep,
undisturbed by the crashes above,
and never drown.
Being neurodivergent in university is a heck of a time.
cat Feb 27
does my "less than" title
make you better
than me?
Cathy Feb 5
I can tell you’re sick of it
I am too
I couldn’t describe how much
Even if I wanted to
I haven’t any energy
Left anymore
I’m starting to wonder
What the struggle is for
Why do I persist
In trying to get things done
I should go and hide
From everyone
Then I wouldn’t
Need the help from you
With tasks and doors
As I struggle through
I can see my pain
Reflected in your face
I know you think
It’s out of place
That it should be gone
Long ago
Oh if only
That were so
Peter Hark Jan 17
Speaking is an art
words like paint
we smear and spread out our ideas onto canvas

If you paint too fast-
**** it
you might make a mistake

Did you know paint can expire?
you think come one, paint?
paint can't go bad!
then you try and use it and its separated and chunky
and boom
your whole piece is ruined.

Words can expire too.
did you know that?
phrases and metaphors age turn ugly and contaminating just like the paint
they might have been usable once, but now
you'd better get some new words.

Like, when referring to someone who uses a wheelchair
people don't say they're crippled.
because that word has expired!

The same way simpleton was used to
refer to someone with intellectual disabilities
was is the key word there.
please for the love of god don't call anyone a simpleton

Lunatic was once used to refer to people with psychiatric disabilities
don't say the teacher who gave you homework on a Friday is a lunatic!

******* was used to refer to people with intellectual disabilities
but now you should NOT call anyone or anything *******!
because it is inappropriate and insulting

This isn't about taking away your words
it's about what you are taking away from people with disabilities
when you use language like that.
what you are stripping away from people
when you decide to use a word like

*******
gimp
deformed
disfigured

Freak
insane
lame
******

*****
spaz
stupid
whacko

Knock it off!
when you decide to use those words
it takes away from anyone who has a disability
or anyone who every will.

Use a different word
use swear words
find a thesaurus.

Get some new **** paint
Peter Hark Jan 17
So I was taking lil Tyler to school
and I got to meet one of his friends!
Tyler was so excited to introduce me to him,
but that poor little babe!
He was in a wheelchair!

Bless my son's heart for looking past this kid's...
um....
Well you know it takes a special kid to have a crippled friend!
Wait
I mean
Not special! My son is not special
No, wait, I mean he ain't SPECIAL special
You know?

Anyways, so I met his friend and I'm not quite sure what to do here
I say
HELLO I AM TYLER'S MAMA
and this little kid looks me dead in the eyes and told me
"Hello ma'am, there's no need to yell"
I was in awe
He didn't sound handicapped at all!
I mean I didn't know if he would be able to understand me
But he did!

Who would have thought a wheelchaired kid
could speak and think just like any other kid who wasn't gimpy!

I am just so so proud of my son
for looking past this poor victim of
um...
deformities...
Cuz you know it's probably good for the disabled
to have a regular normal friend like my son!

Hopefully my son can make that kid happy
you know since people like that usually have such sad lives.
Golly I am just so proud of my son for taking pity on that kid!
I am such a good mother!
THIS IS NOT SERIOUS. I DO NOT PERSONALLY AGREE WITH SLURS OR OUTDATED LANGUAGE USED IN THIS POEM, IT IS BEING USED TO SHOW HOW RIDICULOUS ABLEISTS SOUND.
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