"apnea" poems
a bottle of scotch had bad dreams.
bullets twitch, junk sick
in 3 inch thick
mustard ****
toe nails clipped from yeti
lay strewn about the **** stained corpse
of a motel six dixie cup -
root canal trophy,
next to
a black fez
with scab tassel
upended.
down in it. belching apnea
propaganda
and belladonna
waiting for curious george
to find a shotgun
and a yellow
hat
and a brick banana.
blowflies inhale the rank damp
of a fresh ****
the odd dog whines
like a clown in -
a blender.
[ the ]
house wins
with a marked card; jabbing fat fingers
into acned rosacea
bloated with sleep lack
and mortgage
back stab
chasing twenty ******
with a hollow point
pull from an acid
flask
while hailing a black cab.
tinsel sutures
stitch eyelids as a mercy
shattered bone knit
hand-grenade
cozies
old glory, at half mast
half wasted
fifty stars, no light
dragging on
the grounds of immunity
to do a line
of coke stock
with a basset hounds'
finesse.
your taxes at work
in columbia,
hiding from a lost farm
in Idaho
your american dream
turning tricks in shanghai
for a counterfeit
egga roll
your meme, devoid
like an ice cube
tombstone
your freedom, parking cars
for italian escorts
smoking skin flutes
for ferraris
and white teeth.
your integrity, sold to a hedge fund
for astroglide and a pez dispenser
packed with prozac
pressed by ' Jose the butcher' s abuela
in a narco slum
that ain't seen radio
since cinder blocks
had wings.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
undecipherable loss
• [it's steeper near the roses]
attenuation
• [the mystery in the trees
and the mistral sound of your breathing]
dreams of perfection: floral dress summer
• [the apnea and the scream]
a touch of labyrinth to this world
• [in the fair and harmless light]
imagine somewhere close by
• [imagine him waving as you say goodbye]
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 2:28 PM UTC
The walls of my sleep have been deteriorating,
crumbling
So full of holes,
that my dreams have escaped their dark cages
to prowl the world in the greenblue day.
Outside my windshield
Morpheus transforms the landscape -
sculpting traffic, trees and sky
Into mythic tableaus
of seductive beauty - hypnotic grace.
and then I am also transformed -
Into a bullet
For an eternal moment
I become a speeding messenger of death,
until the alarm of the traffic
breaks the spell
and the dreams scurry away,
to hide once more
from the waking world
and wait.
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 3:51 PM UTC
Ectopic heart
beat. Acoustic
neuroma. Sleep
apnea. Getting
older blessing
against alternative.
Neither hate
nor repair.
Immediately
the woods were familiar -
bunchberry, clintonia.
Red spruce, yellow birch.
Heron rowing
northward overhead
a sign: good luck.
Or was it just
a crow. Rock thrown.
Don't know.
Life's ending.
My sons
have each other
for laughter
at their tragedies.
Avalanche, cataract.
Clean house or
run for president.
Power and talent
are bones in your feet.
Nature's the bed
you'll sleep in.
Thyroid storm.
Screech
of the long-eared
owl. Even if
portent of death,
it's welcome.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 7:26 PM UTC
i.
no more can you see
into another
than at your age
have a stroke
to mirror
my father’s.
ii.
deep into the assignment of my youth
I was said to be bowing
when in fact
I was dipping
into the thigh
of Jesus
repeatedly
with a brush.
iii.
we haven’t always been godless.
how this persists as comfort
is a vision a fox
has
of illness.
iv.
to fox I apply a certain wakefulness.
v.
my father admits in his bed that some mice are alive when he bends to the earth a cornstalk and lets fly.
he confides of everything he is the most guilty of hate getting him places.
I have to find the mouse that means
other mice.
vi.
(above this plain a woman’s privates thunder / below it
there are those
whose tears
are a newborn’s
thumbs)
vii.
a mare kneeling in a bed of maroon straw
intuits doom as a color as optic
Apocrypha
viii.
subconsciously, I am holy and by holy
I can offer not being seen in the grocery
as my father squints into a handheld
calculator.
ix.
to fox paw
this thorn
from my mother’s
apnea
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
Little star clusters bubbling and rise.
Shimmering soap bubbles fragile and thin.
Float past. Small neurons fire weakly.
Deep blue haze drifts slowly by with long streaming banners.
Messages to Oz. Messages to captaon Nemo.
Earth to my synapses. Peanut brittle treats.
Can you feel the chasm all around.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
Death will consume us eventually
But for tonight, I will only taste it
As I lose my breath in my sleep
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
something
happened
last night
as I was
fast asleep
sitting up
snoring
springing awake
from a deep apnea
my mind races
to remember
details
aside my bed
on the floor
a single sleeve
of yellow
legal paper
folded over
forming
a shapely cone
shining in the
moonbeams
sneaking
into the room
from under a
window blind
that ain’t
doin the job
I grab a pen
with a thumb
and pointer
I clasp the balsa
from the large end
of the cone
and place it atop
the screaming TV
I write
something
learned
I write
something
of me
all over
I scribble
on the paper
like a
$5 shrink
I read
what
I wrote
and nod
I’m cool
what great stuff
how deep
how daring
how penetrating
real close
to the blade
like me
so full of ****
I laugh
what
******
junk
Oakland
1/31/99
jbm
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 10:04 AM UTC
In the quiet of the night as the world slept
well into December, there were no spirits to dredge nor scars as such. I didn't have vices that demanded much. NON SUCH.
A few insomniacs from my tribe burned fresh wicks of discontent as flickering light from static devices crept through half drawn sashes living rooms. But for me
Non Such.
Smell of sweet night grass and stilted Oleander,crickets startled into apnea.
Dogs sending smoke signals of solitary
illumination. But I, non such.
A pace of great deliberation.
Resounding over dated concrete tablets do mark my time in moonlite.
But peace of mind.Nonsuch.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 4:46 AM UTC
Gasping, I finally take a breath
Have you ever tested the boundaries,
Restricting oxygen until just before you die?
Perfectly still, no rising of the chest
While your body screams at you to try
I wonder if I could stay in between
This existing is before the afterlife
Because sometimes I'm left asking why;
We're given these eyes to see the sky
But no wings of which to fly
Can you float and drown at the same time?
Fight the weight of instinct
With your body that you rely
Mind over matter
There are some needs you can deny
This is within your control
Taste the air, drink it like you have the choice
Let your body relax with a sigh
If you are strong enough to return,
This is no time for goodbye
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 12:47 PM UTC
Lately
In honesty
As an addict to pain pills
I've felt like just getting back on the ****** train
And saying the hell with it all,
Though when I think about it
I know,
God is that pill
That heals all pain
Cancer
Sickness
Disease
Depression
Sleep apnea
Suicidal thoughts
Hurt
Wanting
Needing
All....
As when I want to pop a nice ****** elixer
I must first think to mineself...
God,
Is the elixer to all...
God is the magic pill...
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
Snatched back
From the icy talons,
Of deathless sleep,
Or sleepless death.
Heartbeat pulsing in my ears,
Rattling in my chest.
Leaving me helpless,
Heatless,
Struggling to catch up,
Unawares.
And now I lay awake,
Trapped in fear,
Knowing I am unable take,
My final breath.
http://tansyroake.weebly.com/
Jul 19, 2017
Jul 19, 2017 at 5:20 AM UTC
Sometimes there’s nothing left but the wolves.
cornered
confused
concussive silences
broken by howls
rivers of bile
iron filings
choked upon truths
landslide mind
sleep apnea
retinal scan
unidentified
alone
rivers of isolation
mercury tears
that don’t fall
they well
stay in the sockets
waiting for the next wave
numbness
sterilized
mechanical
depressive state
mauled.
***
-JBClaywell
© P&ZPublications
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 10:07 PM UTC
Might as well go to market.
Gather money, kindling. The economy
scary, debt deep, winter coming. Reminds
me of my youth, cold poor and scared
but living truth? **** Never
have I understood life's meaning,
significance. Not to say there is no purpose
necessarily, just I don't immediately get it.
Other hand, if you don't think too deeply
about death, this being but a dream, sleep
of a god snoring with apnea or whose alarm
goes off, wakes up for work, spring and expecting
spring's good as it gets. Rhodora in winter
completely forgets what its blossoms looked
like, how attractive to bees and flies!
It's probably healthy that everything dies.
The dire economy can bring us together
or lead us to war. It's cold then warm. Your lover
doesn't write letters anymore giving
thanks or encouragement.
Friends never really know each other,
nemesis. Just as it is impossible to say
what you mean, your closest lover's near but
external, forever. You're alone.
More than ever men have one mind
and finding it's as easy as flicking on the
tv, huckleberry, but that always was
the problem. We march to war in rows and back
in columns. Learning who you actually are
is difficult as sitting still
ten minutes without a thought or want.
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
Interior solitude, imperative belonging,
repetitive dreaming. Until you draw
a circle with a dot.
Stop. Full stop.
On a dry rocky ridge, hot
or in a frozen swamp. One heron
and your self. It is possible to hear
not far, a car, a train, a plane.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
Brad Pitt picks his nose and eats it
Natalie Portman cries in the tub over trivial things
President Obama has sleep apnea
And you are afraid of the dark
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
So heavy a weight
It feels like death's boot is on my face
With all I can muster I try to get away
Convulsing gasping I suffocate
Going down I drown in rapid descent
If I don't wake up soon
I just might ascend
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
Deaths Door
By Joeysguy
Every night I go to bed,
I could have one last thought in my head.
I have sleep apnea where I can lose my breath,
One night it could be the cause of my death.
There was a time my wife would hear my gasping for air,
My wife would roll me over or wake me out of fear.
Now alone without my wife,
Any night could be an end to my life.
I’m not afraid if I should die,
We will be together again my wife and I.
No one to hear me gasp or hear me snore,
No one here to keep me from deaths door.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
Stormy sea you treasure
and I dive into you
to swim towards the
deepest depths of your ocean
into apnea because
that’s how you leave me:
breathless.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 4:16 PM UTC
Last night, I dreamt that you died
And I woke with shaking lungs,
And lips of pale blue
My mind musing on if I wanted to continue breathing
If you were not breathing too.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
She smokes **** and she gets high. It hurts me and I don’t know why. I hate when she brings the **** to her mouth, when she throws her head back and her mood goes south, and she starts coughing hard and her eyes roll back.
The brain goes dumb and the smoke starts to attack her lungs and she already has a breathing problem and sleep apnea and smoking doesn’t solve em’. Doesn’t make em’ better. Just makes em’ worse, like my stupid-ass worries in every single verse. It’s like a curse that won’t end because she won’t stop, even though it hurts me and makes my heart drop into my stomach and crush the butterflies that we’re nesting and formed colonies enshrouded in her lies about using marijuana and she knows how much it hurts. So I retaliate and stop giving her my shirts. I stop being so clingy and I see her less and less, until I’m comfortable enough telling her not to undress, because I’m not that ***** and now I just feel sad almost every single day. If not, then I’m mad. This used to be a love parade where I would jump into her arms, but now this feels unhealthy and I think I’ve lost my charm. I think I’m not okay and I think she feels the same. She’s busy with her drugs and I guess I’m busy being lame, cause I don’t participate in illegal activity, so I’m a buzzkill with an abnormal affinity for a high school teenager, which is being healthy and staying out of danger. My trust seems to be the only thing that I’ll wager. I won’t stop loving her no matter how bad the pain gets. I might just need to ignore the unending thought mess, brain ***** **** yes, rid of it, I can’t take it, I’m done with this **** and I’m done with her baking it. I’m hating it and disliking her at this rate and my mind has trouble analyzing an ongoing debate whether or not I should leave her or stay by her side. My choice is a choice that will rise the tides and turn the tables. The tides of loneliness and tables of fables that are partially true, but basically biased. Breaking up with her would cause the highest form of tension that I’ve ever known. She would fall to the dirt and I’d vacate my thrown. I couldn’t give up the only love I’ve ever known. I couldn’t leave the intimacy, the whisper, the moan. I couldn’t leave the love that she shows me when she’s around, but I could leave the pain she gives me when she’s not inbound. It’s easier to love her when she’s by my side and I can hold her close and I can tell her she’s mine. She loves that noise and so do I. I’m ending this now. I need to go cry.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 1:31 AM UTC
Is there a warranty for my brain?
This one's broken and it's driving me insane.
Where oh where can a new one be claimed?
If I can't replace it, I guess I'll get it fixed.
All of its wires seem to be in a mix.
Leaving my body in unrelenting twist.
The circuit to my lungs just doesn't work,
I can't breathe when I fall asleep, mentally that hurts.
Please can you fix my brain?
I need my breathing back or I'll be in the back of a Hearse.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 6:02 AM UTC
sleep apnea without sleep,
suffocation in a land of pure air,
laughter to a joke never told,
shame for things never done.
commitment to someone never met,
hatred for myself who never blossomed,
disgust by lack of talent never cultivated.
longing for situations that will never happen,
forgiveness to people who have been hurt,
pity for the wrong.
confusion paradox, numbness,
and until i see the burning filter i won't stop.
do i exist? i havent dropped a word in days.
gods, help me, i am stuck between the real and my dream.
yet, there is always a crossing of these two -
in both i am alone.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 12:39 AM UTC
Cosmic concert at Jupiter moon
Hi everyone and welcome to Jupiter moon and my name is bimmy jarnes and today I will sing about your wishes and dreams you have and the first song is amazing grapes hoping I can get a girl with my wild imagination
Amazing grapes
How sweet the juice
How nice to grab all the wine
You see I started off being a
Small little grape white or red
And the fact that the alcohol
Might make you better off dead
It still is a sweet little taste
You see Jesus adds the flavour of grapes
To turn water into wine
And Australians love to talk to each other
Breaking bread and drinking wine
Then you go to wine bar
And you drink the place till it’s dry
I could say that wine makes me feel good
But overall each grape contains the sugar
You need to squeeze if all out
Amazing grapes how sweet the juice
It tastes ever so nice
It once was a grape
Now it is wine
It can also be a juice for communion
And it mates the wafers so nice
Then you win a grand final match
And squirt it over at the mob
Then you say to each other
Mate old mate
This is one hell of a job
Thank you for listening to that song and now my next song is standing on the inside
Standing on the inside looking out
Standing on the inside looking out
Standing on the inside looking out
Of the psych ward trying to get better
I was working at the merry go round
Telling all the children to have a nice day
With a vision of days I was on this place
Doing laps of the HDU like it was a race
I was doing laps of the merry go round
Hoping I can get fit from walk I do
Yeah yeah yeah
Standing on the inside looking out
Standing on the inside looking out
Standing on the inside looking out
Of the psych ward trying to get better
You see I dream about partying in the sky
But I hear my voice saying WHY WHY WHY
I run to the nurses saying the word inmates are trying to ****
They turn their backs saying what a dill
You see if we let you out
You won’t take your meds
And we will get a call from
Your mum and dad
And I drink a beer and say
Standing on the inside looking out
Standing on the inside looking out
Standing on the inside looking out
Of the psych ward trying to get better
Trying trying trying to flaming get better
Don’t go to the psych ward mate
Thank you very much and now this next song is called Sunday morning
Sunday morning
It is time to get up ready for church
Sunday morning
But you had a big night and you are ready to spew
Sunday morning
You celebrated the swans winning the match
Sunday morning
But I was sitting in the bar and you tried to hit me with the glass mate
Sunday morning
You see I told you that the Christians have morals
Sunday morning
Telling you about taking a long time to get a cpap machine to help my sleep apnea
Sunday morning
I feel like making a hangover cure out of raw egg gherkin and peanut butter
Sunday morning
Saying you were just at the club celebrating party night in a nighty and old t shirt
Sunday morning
15 million bottles of scotch to party on Saturday night
Sunday morning
You tell god you didn’t mean to do as you try to confess
I try and party to but the next morning I feel ****
Thank you and now that is it see you guys
Mar 18, 2024
Mar 18, 2024 at 11:01 PM UTC
They say that
I'm one of a kind.
You can only find
One of me.
This body, it
Thinks on its own.
This mind, it
Works alone.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Living off dollars and cents,
These streets don't have
Much to offer.
If you're a copper,
It's my time to flee.
Why can't you leave me?
It's already hard to just be.
Difficult to live,
Move and breathe.
I feel like I'm drowning.
Voluntary Apnea:
The choice to not breathe.
A lack of oxygen
To the brain that
Causes a sensation
Of darkness
Closing in
From all sides.
They say that they’re
Here for the ride.
They don’t realize that
My pride is
At stake.
This smile
This laugh
This glimpse of hope.
It’s all fake.
I’m barely holding on
This rope,
Getting tighter by the minute.
In this world,
I don’t fit.
I gotta admit,
This life, it ain’t for me.
It’s so hard to commit.
It hurts so hard to just be.
I feel like
I’m wasting time.
My past,
Full of crimes.
Gotta climb
These mountains,
More losses than wins.
It’s so hard to just exist.
It’s not like I’ll be missed.
I’ll just be dismissed.
They say that
Silence is hard to come by.
So are good friends.
Because no message is
Still a message.
Relationships are a blessing,
But noise is a curse.
Life ***** but
I’m worse.
Let’s not deny the facts,
I watch your reacts,
The way that you see me,
But don’t acknowledge it.
It’s like you see the Holy Ghost,
But don’t wanna submit.
They say to defy the odds,
Prove the demons wrong,
Stick with the squads.
But I don’t belong.
You tell me that
I'm not lonely.
Feel free to show me.
Life's a show,
I go toe-to-toe with
This utopian reality;
Fatal vitality.
Why's everything gone bad?
Why am I going mad?
Show me what's right;
Show me the light.
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 9:53 PM UTC