"echolalia" poems
Depersonalization
Derealization
Dissociation
Delusional
Hallucinations
Confabulation
Perseveration
persevered.
Clanging
Rhyming
Echolalia
echolalia.
Paranoia
Ideas of reference
Thought blocking
Internal stimuli
Thought broadcasting
heard
every way
every day.
Mental disorders
or
poets extraordinary
The Paiute anthropologist
locked up on the
inpatient unit
with visions of the ancestors
dancing in his eyes
said
"See these folks
you have locked up,
In ancient days
from the desert hills
they came our way
delivered truths
in their special way.
"Once they had their say
On desert winds
they blew back
up to their hills
away
straight away. "
"Can you please
give me the keys.
I've said what
I had to say. "
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
I flick the lighter on and off nervously.
The scratching echolalia is deafening in the stillness.
Flick. Hiss. Flick. Hiss.
The metal cap feels like the only heat for a great radius in space and time.
The cracks in the gravel under my feet hold salvation.
Moonlight drowns visible heaven and thinly covers the ground.
Wet and silvery, it will freeze my blood.
In the far distance, a soft rushing sounds.
A glow rises behind a hill in the road, and headlights pop over the summit.
My pulse picks up, I tread backwards, thumb extended.
Tires slow, crackling.
"Where to?"
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
Recurrence
And again
You say those words
Evanescent
Now but then
You’re still my world
Repetitions
Ev’rything
It’s still cliché
No permissions
We are nothing
‘Till end of days
No warnings
Heard again
It’s deafening
Stay smiling
Just stay sane
Keep listening
Now explain
What you feel
Before breaking
‘Bout your pain
How you deal
She’s ignoring
How pathetic
Ordinary
Yet it seems
We’re still static
Arbitrary
Lies and whims
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 5:06 PM UTC
Recurrence
And again
You say those words
Evanescent
Now but then
You’re still my world
Repetitions
Ev’rything
It’s still cliché
No permissions
We are nothing
‘Till end of days
No warnings
Heard again
It’s deafening
Stay smiling
Just stay sane
Keep listening
Now explain
What you feel
Before breaking
‘Bout your pain
How you deal
She’s ignoring
How pathetic
Ordinary
Yet it seems
We’re still static
Arbitrary
Lies and whims
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 6:40 PM UTC
You can hear me, can't you?
can't you
I want you to be like this. See?
see
No, you do not want that.
that
Who am I? Who am I?
i
You'll never get there, never!
never
Just be quiet, really!
really
You're such a mess. You'll never be loved!
loved
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
If my hearing's weak,
Or I seldom speak,
Perhaps my mind may wander;
Don't overlook
My eyesight's fine,
I detect
Eyes roll and shift.
I know, I know,
I repeat myself,
Echolalia is my mantra.
At this age one forgets
Who heard his story,
Tsk. Tsk.
Such disrespect.
Ah, well.
What should I expect?
Did I call,
Or send a text,
Use Skype or Face?
I'll learn what's next.
Sometimes I use snail mail.
Sorry, memory fails.
You must admit
Your old man
Tells a story
Like no one can.
Stories drip
From my lips;
But given time
I'll learn to mime
The muscles relax,
One can't hold back;
Please tell me if I smell.
You may be bolder
If I make an error;
**** happens
When you're older.
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
i peel myself back,
looking for skin.
for bone.
for something warm-blooded
and nameable.
but there’s only
mood swings - ADHD?
echolalia - autism.
hobbies that turn to hunger -
special interests.
talking too much - ADHD.
talking too little - trauma. Or is that autism?
flinching at softness - trauma.
stimming - trauma. Or ADHD?
people-pleasing - trauma.
Shutting down - trauma.
Or were those also autism?
what isn’t accounted for?
when i laugh,
is it because i’m happy
or because it’s the safest sound to make?
when i sit in silence,
is it peace
or practiced disconnection?
was i ever whole,
or was i built
out of reaction,
adaptation,
survival?
do i still count
as a person?
i truly cannot tell.
but if i don’t -
that’s okay.
because this is who i am now.
a map of every exit i had to take.
a body full of reroutes.
a nervous system that remembers everything.
even if nothing here
was born purely,
even if it all came from need -
what’s left
is, well, what I have left.
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 12:33 PM UTC
It sounds like a flower,
It's fresh to the ears.
Echolalia is a word that I hear.
A little girl found it,
I heard it today.
She might have autism,
But that's rude to say.
Should I just speak up or ignore the signs?
Noting signs in a child that is not mine
Is like picking a flower,
It withers and dies.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC