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David Hilburn Mar 28
Theory of a dread
Music in the naked thought
For more, than a kind thank you ahead
Where the cloth is worn, with a purposed climate to rot?

Music with a proud name...
Torrid whole kindred, and a dole of lead
In meager how, the gift of nothing shame?
Reasons and similar essence to rise, and fall with need...

Mercy for a minstrel of heirs?
Taken to lies and school's of thought...
Sweet avarice, do we know you one step more?
Like a bird of war, we see the tried and true, became not...

Them said, the tone of your voice is a sultry longing...
Strength and totals of sincerity, to show you a vaunted
Gold, and the many of sitting for a though, a song
Of guided misery, the stare of unison that joy meant...

A hat full of sunshine, is a waiting lover...?
Known for mutual live and lets give the moment...
With but a song to share, are we a sallow order to those?
With a realm to touch and mendacity in the eaves, is again a lament...?

The shyness of veracity, in your hand for ourselves?
That knew the day of your haunt of justice, wantonness
Courage in the affront of thunderous drama, to acquire a force
Of silence and reason in a marvel of distance, as if the name of our blessing...?

A halting dream with shall to swallow, and the instinct...
Of curiosity with a bridge to essential mere, the times are a changing covenant...?
With the shadow of youth, the honor of what was a method succinct...
Tales of sour chance in the good nature of fear, today is a lovers love...?
Contrary and stone deaf in love?, try a spaghetti on a table with God (come from the war we made with prayers demonstration to youth) Beth, we found the socks you left in the religion...
Anais Vionet Aug 2022
I talked with my parents this morning (they’re in a time zone that’s 6 hours ahead). I’ll be off, back to school, before they get back. They sound very tired, certainly tireder than they did a month ago.

They’re working with “Doctors Without Borders” somewhere in Poland. We have a fiction between us, that they haven’t been in a war zone for the last couple of months, spending 16 (18?) hours a day, in ineffable, meatball surgery - sewing pieces of people back together.

Although our conversation topics are no more important than soap bubbles, they evoke a kaleidoscope of emotions (in me), our mutual deceptions as fragile as eggshells.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Ineffable: something indescribable or unspeakable.

Meatball surgery = quick, lifesaving, emergency-surgery so patients may initially survive.
Steve Page Apr 2022
My life, at this stage,
had worn paper thin
- clipped to a board, hung
at my feet, open to review
with scant reference
to the source material.

My body had been fragmented,
parts selected and cut -
the changes tracked
for future reference.

And there were end notes
(if you were interested).

I was saved for later.
Thanks to poet Tamar Yoseloff who prompted the imagery - see her collection: The Black Place.
Eric Feb 2021
I°°° want°°° my°°° ******°°° to°°° be°°° a°°° mystery°°°
I°°° want°°° a°°° Grove°°° with°°° trees°°°,
Standing°°° tall°°° as°°° can°°° be°°° .
There°°° in°°° the°°° distance°°° in°°° between°°°,
All°°° those°°° trees°°° shadows°°° ,
What°°° lies°°° beneath°°° .
My°°° body°°° layed°°° to°°° rest°°° apon°°° some°°° leaves.°°°
Scene°°° of°°° a°°° suicidal°°° heart°°° surgery°°° .
Knife°°° at°°° hand,°°° looking°°° at°°° the°°° deep°°° cut°°° seems°°°
Pool°°° of°°° blood°°° nobody°°° would°°° want°°° to°°° see °°°.
Stood°°° behind°°° my°°° soulless°°° body°°° .
Lift°°° my°°° own°°° hands ,°°°
Knife°°° cutting°°° softly.°°°
Pulling°°° back°°° the°°° ribs°°° and°°° skin °°°.
Not°°° to°°° find°°° a°°° heart ,°°° just°°° emptiness°°° within°°°.
Looking°°° at°°° the°°° way°°° I°°° laid°°° , how°°° was°°° I°°° to°°° late ?°°°
This°°° took°°° time°°° and°°° pain°°° .
I'm°°° sorry°°° ...
Really°°° no°°° signs°°° of°°° struggle°°° around°°° the°°° scene°°°.
Was°°° it°°° a°°° ******? ,°°° I°°° would°°° say°°° likely°°°.
Why°°° would°°° you°°° say°°° that?,°°° is°°° that°°° what°°° you°°° see°°°.
Yes°°° because°°° it's°°° impossible°°° to°°° do°°° a°°° open°°° heart°°° surgery°°°.
On°°° one's°°° self , °°°°you'd°°° have°°° to°°° be°°° mentally°°° crazy°°° .
I°°° get°°° what°°° your°°° saying,°°° it's°°° just°°° hard°°° to°°° believe°°° .
Walking°°° away°°° from°°° myself ,°°° kinda°°° feeling°°° relieved°°°.
Did°°° I°°° do°°° it ?°°° Did°°° I°°° clean°°° enough°°° of°°° the°°° scene°°°.
And°°° where°°° did°°° I°°° put°°° that°°° heart? ,°°° it°°° must°°° not°°° be°°° seen°°°.
Thoughts°°° dancing°°° in°°° my°°° mind ,°°° creating°°° art ,°°°
Within°°° my°°° soulless°°° body ,°°° this°°° gots°°° to°°° be°°° a°°° dream°°°.
But°°° One°°° thought°°° stuck°°° to°°° me ,°°°
I°°° wanted°°° my°°° ******°°° to°°° be°° a°°° mystery .°°°
I°°° wanted°°° groves ,°°° with°°° lots°°° of°°° trees°°° .
Just°°° standing°°° tall°°° and°°° alone°°° like°°° me°°°.
And°°° there°°° in°°° the°°° distance°°°  an°°° in°°° between°°°.
Now°°° forever°°° my°°° shadow°°° lies°°° beneath°°° me°°°.
My°°° body°°° laid°°° to°°° rest°°° apon°°° soft°°° leaves°°° .
A°°° scene°°° of°°° a°°° suicidal°°° heart°°° surgery°°°.
Don't judge over thoughts and dreams
Corbyn Nov 2020
205 days until I’m free
the biggest weight lifted off my chest

where’s my reflection?
the mirror doesn’t show it

is the sight of my naked flesh

exhaustion has become too familiar
each day feels like eternity

burying my body in clothes way too big
it brings some comfort

Aphasia Nov 2020
How real are they? These faded dreams
The line between
Anxiety and reality
Like the knife I know
Was entered into me
Found in emails to doctors
I've forgotten I'd written.
Sometimes awe and trauma battle for the same headspace.
Joseph Koch Jul 2020
Am I awake?
This simulation feels so real
My every waking moment
Masks and hazmat suits fuel my fear
This ******* nightmare
Somebody get me out of here

I don't know what I'm saying
I just don't ******* sleep
They wait for me inside my dreams
Another **** stain
On some brand new sheets

Now In a few days
I'll be back on the street
Old holes holes in my socks
The same dirt on my jeans
In the back of my head
I know I'll never really leave

Wake me up again
Slice my skin
Take my blood
Push my medicine
Experience in hospital during Covid-19.
A few weeks and 2 major surgeries. I wrote this when I hadn't slept in over 5 full days.

The poem is about my state if mind during this particular hospital stay.
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