"debilitation" poems
My breath
has long fleeted my lungs;
My body
is crippled tirelessly by pain;
My mind
begs for this moment to cease
This is the moment to yield
Yet I press on...
Through the exhaustion.
Through my faltering muscles.
Through the wall of debilitation
My back is against the wall
Yet I will continue on...
Pass the limits of possibility.
Pass the boundaries of condition.
Pass the ambiguity of self.
'Till I have defeated my enemy
'or I stand before the gates of Valhalla.
My rival hits the floor
Regardless...
I can never accept Defeat
When its only separated from Victory
By a thin
fine
line.
I ascend its threshold*
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 6:16 AM UTC
You don't know what to now
Because they've 'fixed' you
And you can 'live' again
But the pain remains
The addiction
The affliction
The vengeance
The rage
The impulse
So you stop taking the meds
To start to live again
The way you love and know how
**** this ****
You are Insane
You are Sadistic and Suicidal
A Psychopath and Manic
Just embrace it
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
But how do I communicate
a word that lacks an English translation?
A feeling so essential to my well-being?
One that this
culture
denounces,
dejects,
despises
so easily,
Without changing what I look like in your eyes?
Hesitation of true affection
Amae, I want to share with you.
A home, not a house.
The mother's loving concern.
The safety of knowing that it is okay.
You'll be there and I
presume you will.
And this gives me shivers to imagine;
indulgence of security.
But that's codependent
Check the DSM-V.
I think the APA is wrong.
I challenge over 137,000 who seem to agree
that my need for people is
disorder,
disease,
debilitation.
Because I can see through a window in my heart,
that shows me a world coexisting;
once realized
we need each other
because we are human.
We want to live harmoniously, in unison.
I want to care of my fellow man.
I am celebrated for aspirations
of massaging the soul,
fixing the whole,
dedicated to them all.
Why is it so wrong that some days,
I'd like to be on that side of the spectrum?
Amae, Amae, Amae
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
I slowly debilitate into nothingness
For never before have I known this
Losing my appetite and my mind
Leaving my comfort far behind
Blinded by beauty, oh your smile
Could make this life seem worthwhile
There is nothing that I wouldn't do
For a chance to relax, just us two
Laying outside, beneath the moon
That shines but half as brightly as you
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 7:56 PM UTC
My brain is a nuisance serpent, a Penelope polyp that recoils, recedes when it is most needed, hides behind itself, shoots into the cavities that have become cannabinoid landmines. I am not sure which parts are mine or whether there has been growth along with the debilitation, and would those ever balance as equalization? Can I discredit myself, credit myself—or I am I one big excuse? I excuse myself as I down one more glass, the neurons glaze, my myelins quieting the electricity; chemically, can I be held responsible for any change in chemistry? Can I qualify the distance between me and who I used to be?—and I’m tired of the Zen critics denying the difference; I try to focus presently, and, oh, I find myself in eternal flowered fields, transitory serenity—servant only to my misery; and so I beg to know: why can’t I stay there? They say we’re shared in suffering, but I’m not asking for consolation! I’m asking for hope—for possibility, that one day I—we—will be consciousness, and not some drifting broken barge atop her ever-swelling sea.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC
Tell me what it is
About the trees
Dusty grey and gloomy in October
That resonates so dearly with a heart
Melancholy and somber
This rain is soothing
Like the soft white I line my walls with
A golden haze playing through my veins
And flames to match the essence
But not the calefaction
You can watch me drift into a paralysis effortlessly
A debilitation cold and lingering
Like lifeless trees awaiting the worst
Some sun
Does not change the course of nature
And I wonder what flavor of future
Nature holds for me
I feel like the trees
In the middle of a foggy autumn afternoon
Comfortable
And content
Living in the shadows of a world
Too engulfed in regurgitated highs
To contemplate or appreciate struggle
A world utterly ignorant to individuals soft spoken and inherently
Harmonious in the ways of authenticity
And naturalism and realism
We have the endurance to undergo lifelong tempests
But lack the energy to speed through
Trivial phases of Insatiable beauty
Our growth is goddess enough
Tell me what it is about the moon
Majestic and nostalgically haunting
A calming through night's terrors
And unforgiving traumas
Silver whisps of validation shine into a heart
With love looking a little too much like silhouettes
An ebony void seeping into the cracks of joy
And pain becoming an obvious pattern
And the moon is there always
Watching the molding in a resentful awe
What happened to the life of the young
Happiness looking like summer nights
And chrismas lights and vintage pop bottles
Fading into an uninviting outline
Through that type of half reality
Half fantasy version of time
Months feeling like hours
But unrewarding years all the same
Childhoods disappearing into insomnia
And I'm not very hungry
And I don't want anything for my birthday
Kind of aloof answers
We get it
We're all just tired
Tell me what it is
About the stillness of autumn
That induces a numbness in our hearts
Watching our desires blow away with the wind
One by one
They sing their remorse through aeolian howls
Uncanny and ghost like
Or the early nightfalls
That strangely feel more intimate
Than our last touch did
A type of familiarity rather profound
And lacking in any form of resentment
Maybe it's the significance in vulnerability
The stripping away of irrelevant priorities
To see the real
To see the roots
Tell me what is is
About the trees
Dusty grey and gloomy in October
That soothes a tired soul
A vagabond in search for more
And a heart a little too in love with loss
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 2:21 AM UTC
Used to have a dream ;
used to have a love from above though it seemed
Serene
the color of your eyes hid the lies
The fog in the skies symbolized my demise..
No remorse
no affiliation
Federal's amphetamines ensue debilitation
at last ;
He had the heart of someone in his grasp
clutched too tight so it didn't really last...
Used to have a dream
used to being last
Used to being separated by my skin or cast
or both ;
Told his brothers not to give up hope
whoever is your god he or she will shift the slope..
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 6:24 AM UTC
Cold settled in deep
On him and their son,
A poor fool, lost in his own world,
Scarcely aware his mother was gone.
The boy's father couldn't cope...
Tried, but hope with her had died.
Bankrupt faith, spent in futile prayer
To cure the failing heart,
Restore the lungs...
A silent "NO" hung in the air,
And she was gone.
Her ashes flew home beside him.
He went to pick up his son,
Stopped for three fifths of Scotch...
Proceeded to disappear,
Proceeded to disappear,
Proceeded to disappear.
The house suffered under stench:
Old *****
Excrement,
*****
Spilled bottles,
Cans scattered on the floor;
Everywhere a sour putrescence.
His son floated in and out of vision,
Autism and inebriation:
Two forms debilitation,
No hope of equilibration.
Neighbors made some calls...
Social workers came,
Took the son away.
Death seemed a reasonable option.
Leave the mess.
Join his wife.
End this ******* life....
Revolvers favor simplicity:
Load the chambers,
Snap the cylinder in place...
Aim closely to remove his face.
Muzzle up,
Open mouth,
Squeeze the hammer down...
Only a clicking sound.
Unusual, this...
Aim at the ground,
Squeeze off a round...
Ears ringing from the sound.
Raise the muzzle once again,
Bite hard on steel,
Squeeze the trigger down...
Again, a clicking sound.
Aim at the ground,
Blam! Potent round...
Set the revolver down.
"Hello. 911. What is your emergency?"
"Come get my gun;
I'm trying to **** myself."
Police arrive.
He's still alive.
Drunk and numb...
They take his gun.
Six weeks later, still in a haze,
He's told his story.
We are amazed,
But still he's found no calm for grief.
We struggle beside him,
Waiting for some sign,
Some reason why a gun
Should fail to fire...twice.
If you should read these words, my friends,
Please speak a prayer for a lonely man.
Ask for freedom from despair,
For peace and letting go,
For comfort and the hope of friends,
For better ends.
For better ends.
For better ends.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
**i speak of
rampant confusion
that's not
rabid profusion
i speak of
sapping exhaustion
that's not
of debilitation
i speak of
manic depression
that's from
naked manipulation
i speak of
senseless obsession
that's from
candid illusion
and i speak of
fictional annointing
born of
endless seizure and seeking
i speak of
unadulterated reeking
grown out of
staggering imbibing
after stunning rejection
and numbing oblivion
i speak of
endless yearning
endless seeking
endless delusion
endless exclusion
thwarted efforts
dead dreams
and misguided hope
i speak of
...**
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:37 PM UTC
that man has got a blade for tongue
his vocals slipping off into the slum
he speaks with vigor
and empty voice of debilitation
the mouth of the rancid giver
he develops the destruction of communication
slashing tires just for fun
this golden child is on the run
from disabilities better classified as demons
losing his breath for the rising sun
the open eyes are clear to see
what is unfolding
right in front of me
a path to the future,
a gaping aperture;
there are a million things to say
but none of them match the light of day
i've been silent for quite a while now,
but here's some thought for the why's and how's
keep your soul trapped in the skin
until the day we are whole again.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
Sit and watch the breeze pass
poison for recreation
Blame the feds after long awaited debilitation
Sit and watch the breeze pass
poison for education
Blame the feds after long endured deprivation
Sit and watch the breeze pass
weaker state of mind
Understanding nothing ever at this point and time
Sit and watch the breeze pass
surprised your still alive
Eating what the fed has to offer to the blind
Sit and watch the breeze pass
Laughing at your kin
Knowing nothing new..
a bush under your chin..
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 2:24 AM UTC
the murky blue water ripples
shades of Jade concealed
only made visible by the shards of
sun piercing through the layers of the blanket.
dancing and crashing
composing music as we come together
and break apart.
colliding with great force
the land trembles at sight of the crest,
for the power we yield is far too great.
waves demolish the ground we walk on,
washing away the marks we've left.
the storm has now passed,
tides begin to die down.
the symphony ceases
and the sand crawls home to the shore.
silence has infiltrated the bed,
no more movement between the layers of the deep
left in a state of debilitation
all that was once barren,
now kissed with the sweat of the sea.
we part for the night-
two ships carry on- leaving a light trail behind,
with only the glow of the night,
to guide us to our fantasy.
Feb 26, 2020
Feb 26, 2020 at 10:06 PM UTC
Birth—Coronation
Belief—Creation
Pain— Debilitation
Sin—Damnation
Joy—Association
Despair—Isolation
Praise—Adulation
Time—Anticipation
Truth—Revelation
Faith—Salvation
Death—Divination
Life—Reincarnation
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
iSolation
Hiding fAilure Means dEbilitation
Timely, couRageous exposUre resTores
Humanity
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC