"impediment" poems
is not a disability to me
be it PTSD
or Bi Polar
or Anxiety Depression
or just riding Solo
it's not a disability to me
it may play havoc
with my everyday life but
it's not an impediment
or an indication
that you lack ability
to deal with living strife
it's not a disability to me
it's more a heightened empathy
a conscious awareness
not a disease (some cases can be)
but not a disability to me
it just means your fortitude
takes you to the next level
when the ground falls
beneath your feet
you don't lay down to grovel
you find ways to make
a near endless day
better than it was yesterday
you praise all tomorrows
because you made it today
your mental disabilty
has never been a disability
to me
in any way
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
Not fast
I'm not quick enough.
I sediment
an impediment
to the betterment of...
who?
why?
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
What little sunshine being recognised
Out of a storm flames approaching disorder
Building vast contradictions without impediment
Widespread in antiquity with alluring interpretations
Constituting mutilated transformations whose opposing
Lies stinking and fly swarmed, rotting at our feet
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 4:29 PM UTC
tell me what words are there
to articulate this savage parade
not here, not in all the Lebanons
whose crystal castles sparkle
like broken glass
on the dark horizons
at the jagged edges of the world
from which cultured minds have receded
and all humanity has been relinquished
to the barbarity of the frenzied flavours of fools
who will speak for this wild parade
without impediment to mythical protagonists
tell me where are the energised arguments
against sophisticated yet false laments
where testament is torn through
weeping cedar trees
producing the unpredictable accidental quality
that memorialises phantom caresses
that have neither been invented nor encouraged
the hallow that inaugurates
the distinctive features of
destructive energies that are both
exuberant and hard to comprehend
this parade where there is
a savage sensibility
capable of apprehending
contradictory ethical imperatives
that vouch for a mocking stream of
tragic political consequence
displayed vividly in the inextricability
of civil order and political violence
that defies exclusive claim
by casting itself as freedom warrior
in disguise as militaristic humanism
and burns the temple tree
and where human identity
becomes an elusive possession
owned by a few
who in the inevitability of ignorance
refuse to recognise their tragic error
and the world does not mount
a strenuous protest
at this headlong dash for Ephesus
where antagonistic language and
neutral expression of thought converge
and here the value of valulessness
repudiates, even in a single poetic moment
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
As this world runs in cruelty and in greed,
Our eyes see the world perfect-blindly.
Those who have power stay unfair and unjust, indeed -
The stated laws were implemented tightly.
Power over humanity exists in today’s world.
We as powerless have no right to scrutinize, but to concur.
Their pledges remain twirled -
The hurdle stays in abundance with no cure.
It is in us where the grievous suffering is in store;
And we have none to succor them all.
The hunger and incurable malady strike humankind in any form.
It led to increased mortality, decreased economy, but who to call?
Whoever has power, our safety cannot be guaranteed –
They are the ones that makes our life at risk.
They stand as an impediment for our nation not to succeed.
Their fall is soon our victory – this is not in the pace-brisk.
It’s been a year, still no sign of good deed.
Half of the world is asleep –
Some shock for awakening their soul is what they need.
We have lost enough; at least we have ourselves to keep.
The string of our patience reached its limitation.
Rich people hoard too much and now most of us left deprived.
Who’ll lift marginalized Filipinos in our nation? –
Who'll give us fair allocation that is incumbent for us to survive?
Tedious journey might it seem.
Our souls’ little voices are still unheard.
What life this could be without our soaring dream? –
We shall move our mountains even gratification is deferred.
Now, the time is ours to stand as one with clenched hands,
It’s time for us to deplore and abhor their thoughts.
It’s time to listen in our souls' little voices to be heard at once.
And it’s time for us to break the darkness by our flaming oath.
- Aubergine Cher Bautista
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 11:59 PM UTC
1480
The fascinating chill that music leaves
Is Earth’s corroboration
Of Ecstasy’s impediment—
’Tis Rapture’s germination
In timid and tumultuous soil
A fine—estranging creature—
To something upper wooing us
But not to our Creator—
4.7k
What brief utterance this, the color of time
That gives more meaning than language can hold
To force a confrontation between unresolvable contradictions
Such as make malleable a gracious hospitality to ******
And sound trumpets of unwarranted discord
That lie and lament the reputation and experience of damage
Hold forth the envious clouds of displacement
To provide for the vicious energies of hate
Those oppressive weights of past problems
That enactment of intense and exhausting experience
Which embalms the tears of fresh bleeding
Without impediment dictates the human existence
Where the mistress of aggressive thought finds
Extremity of dire mishap a strenuous protest
Leads to well meaning certainty of illusion
And asks, art thou so in love with masks that you
Would transform thyself and as such
Bind a loyalty of angers to thy touch
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
I'm not a person of color
I'm not gay
I'm not rich
I'm not homeless
I'm not religious
I'm not an atheist
I am a whisper
I'm not old
I'm not young
I'm not famous
I'm unknown
I am a whisper
I may be helpless
But I am not numb
I may be shackled
But I will not lie still
I am a whisper
I have an opinion
I have thoughts
I have feelings
I have a voice
I am a whisper
I have a memory
I have hope
I have a fantasy
I have a dream
I am a whisper
I give freedom
I will not judge
I will not control
I will not hurt
I am a whisper
I don't believe you
Why must I listen?
Why do you want my mind?
Why do you want control?
I am a whisper
I see what happens
I know who is suppressed
I know you are buying time for yourself
I know you need to fool me
I am a whisper
I am in your way
I am an impediment
I am a risk
I am to be mitigated
I am a whisper
It needs to be shouted
It needs to be aggressive
It needs to shock
It needs to awaken
I am a whisper
I see the fear tactics
I see the power
I see the judgements
I see the ridicule
I am a whisper
I know you are a liar
I know you are evil
I know you will ****
I know you will destroy
I am a whisper
I know these things
What can I do?
I can only write
I can only feel the anger
I am a whisper
"Who is lying?"
They are
"Who would ****
They would
"Who would send your child off to war?"
They would
"Who are they?"
The one's who want your vote
I am a whisper
"What about your children?"
There is still time
"What about my children?"
There is still time
I am a whisper
Would a man **** for God?
What do you think?
Would a man **** for his flag?
What do you think?
Would a man **** for his party?
What do you think?
Would a man **** who has been fooled?
What do you think?
Would a man let you die in his place?
What do you think?
I am a whisper
"Why do you whisper?"
I'm not
"You say you are"
Can anyone hear me?
"I can"
Can anyone else?
"No"
I am a whisper
"Why won't you shout? "
I am afraid
Afraid of what?
Of losing my job
Of losing my children
Of losing my life
I am a whisper
"Who are you afraid of?"
A person
A book
True believers
Non-believers
The enemies are all around
I am a whisper
"Why are they enemies?"
They do not want me
They want me to be them
They want my mind
They want my actions
They want my life
I am a whisper
So I work
So I pray
So I smile
So I agree
So I submit
So I bend
So I die
I am a whisper
Is existence on the other side of a laugh?
Is existence in the void of silence?
Is existence in the breath of a whisper?
Is existence in the quiet of God's spirit?
I am a whisper
When God is silent
Even a whisper can be too loud
Silence is the empty room
No color
No artifact
No sound
I am a whisper
Listen to the whisper
Then listen to God
Then you will know
Because you dared to speak
You forgot to think
I am a whisper
Blessed are the peacemakers
Did you remember this?
Let he who has not sinned cast the first stone
Did you remember this?
Turn the other cheek
Did you remember this?
Love thy neighbor
Did you remember this?
Judge not lest you be judged
Did you remember this?
I am a whisper
Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserved. Mark Lecuona
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 2:06 PM UTC
The Nail-biter saw her as his saving grace from a life of lonesome worry
She saw him as a meal ticket and a free ride
He over looked her granny ash
He disregarded her speech impediment
Always holding his tongue when she stumbled on certain words because he loved her and all her imperfections
She had a bullet proof black hole heart and his common sense was stuck in a sound proof cell as they had what seemed to him to be, passionate ***
He worked day and night, coming home with dishpan hands
Saving up to buy her a bouquet of hydrangeas, tulips and baby's breath
She took them and said, "Wow, thank you you're such a good friend"
The Nail-biter left and drove his car into the nearest embankment
She did not attended the funeral, she was too busy having dinner with The man with OCD who didn't have tics but tocks
She knew the routine and loved every second of it
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
A list of words I cannot ever say
But I will have to say them every day
I am supposed to practice saying ice
Ice with spice and six o’clock
I will lie and say I did it all
But they all know my tongue will always fall
I googled it to find out what I do
My speech impediment is sadly true
I haven’t done anything about it since
My speech therapist gave me the final mint
I hated it, and it was all suppressed
But now I tell it, I always confess
I wonder if I do it without thought
Am I saying it right or am I not
And no one ever says a thing to me
(Except the boy I crushed on, that one week)
I don’t know if it changes who I am
But I’d still be better off talking like a normal man
It’s something that a lot of people have
But the harsher term makes me inexplicably glad
“Speech impediment”, now I’m special too
Deviancy just like my missing tooth
I always sing even though it sounds weird
Sometimes I avoid the words I’ve always feared
Not “just” the “sea” but “change”, “commotion” too
Especially when I read I’m conscious of how my tongue moves.
Not just that, but I spit and stutter
All my “spreading” is full of clutter
The judge says “Clear”, I have to try
But I could lose the debate, and feel like dying
I know I should grow out of it as a child
But habits stick after so many miles
Along with my disproportionately small hands
And legs and everything that makes me feel like no man’s land
Between a kid and the way I should be
At the age of seventeen
I wish it didn’t change who I am
(Is it just another reason I can't find a...)
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 7:21 PM UTC
Did I need to prove the kind of girl I am?
As if a category would add to my inferior condition
Did I need to hide how I felt about being left behind?
As if showing emotion would have proven me weak
I had every intention of going on that camping trip
But you said I would slow down everybody
Come to think of it, you never seemed to mind
Manuel's obesity slowing you down
I guess the **** between my legs is more of an impediment
than the blubber belly of your male companion.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
I would use the force of mind to illustrate things.
To solve things, and to love things the way they should need to be loved by the air they breath.
I can't control the musings of my hairy body.
It ate my soul up and sprouted fleshy wings of blood and
and
and
hey.
I like you.
Don't let me talk too much and ***** this up.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
Not an easy thing
to be the father of sons,
(of daughters I have none).
Inevitably, you must
disappoint them;
inevitably, they must
turn away from you.
Embrace the necessity
of this distancing.
Do not become
an impediment
to the world
they must inherit,
the world that
you can never know.
Be joyful.
Trust that what
you have planted
will flourish
beyond your reach.
Dream the futures
you will never see.
- mce
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
My head rested gently upon your shoulder, Amidst the kitchen's warmth, in an intimate embrace.
You spoke of Abramović and Ulay's artful love affair, While I listened, entranced, with a silent prayer.
As the water simmered, poised to reach its peak, I absorbed each word, feigning understanding.
Your gestures, a symphony, as you traced the scene, Fingers dancing, in a love unseen, an intimate dance just for me.
I pondered, as your touch lingered on mine,
Was our love akin to theirs, a complex design?
Filled with art and impediment, like a tangled thread, Were you showing me their image, with secrets unsaid?
Was it a subtle warning, a silent plea to flee? Or a gentle nudge towards what must be?
As you held me close, your grasp firm and tight, I wondered if our end was nearing, in the dimming light.
Your fingers, reluctant to stray from my skin, A silent testament to the love we'd once been.
Yet even as you checked the stove's steady flame, I sensed the hesitance, the unspoken claim.
For the music played softly, a melancholy tune, Unheard by my ears, yet felt in the room.
Unbeknownst to me, we began a slow dance, The tender steps of a breakup's advance.
So we swayed in silence, to the rhythm of a heart's lament, Each step a farewell, in love's testament.
In the dance of love's end, we found our song, Unraveling slowly, where once we belonged.
Jul 17, 2022
Jul 17, 2022 at 5:40 PM UTC
What mists are these
That grow heavy in the palm
Making bruises weep
These mists that place themselves
By treaty or inheritance
With such ferocity
Embalm the soul with tears
Announcing their pleasure
To be resurrected
These mists that represent a tragedy
An imagination that beholds a bleeding
Yes, a bleeding from mine eyes
A conflagration of blood
That flares a collaboration of turmoils
With effortless deployment in the mind
Erratically as if impediment does not impose
Itself upon their mortal breach
An unresponsive pace that energizes
The tragedy of my great lament
Jul 28, 2012
Jul 28, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
If only luck would up and show
fortune for the fortunately
clinging on,
those blessed with life
though impetus bent
for one toe only touching the floor
with a venomous claw
for virulence and love
both impediment to the **** we gnaw
if only luck would wind a boot
to the fortunately clinging on
those blessed with life only
danger dismissed with no teeth
fortune for the titanic maw
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
take rain from sky
take the way tall men straighten your stance
take the students of dance
see the little ballerina stretch her toes
see her mother warm with the floodlight
take your plea to the judiciary
take your eye to the statue of David
smear on the dust of Somalia
rub raw the frost of Croatia
refresh your aim in the heights of Angola
but do not stop only at this
breathe every impediment
trust every promise of clemency
stumble if you will
fall under cease-fire
take it all
take the watchmaker
bent over time
with fine tools
clasp each second
take the sculptor who
chisels and scalpels for the grandiose
later in your armchair
fold creases in your newspaper with care
be with every nourishment
be with the cloth of your nakedness
make sail for your harbour of origin
remember the milk of your mother
warm or cold or sweet if it is so
appease hunger
with the ambidextrous mouth
of a soldier
fed with death in his jungle
be the bystander, be the bi-partisan,
the ******* the timeless,
the dancer
be it all
breathe each increment
do it now
measure the infinite
the possible
MChallis © 2015
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:02 PM UTC
Beautiful soul
The carrier of hardships
You are the spawn
Of proud ancestry
The source of awe
The muse for my desire
Your dark skin
Is my heart's awakening
Yet you are not for me
You are not for me
You are not for me
Distance remains a consistent
Impediment to my sacrilege
Travesty of a face of empathy
Sadly I'm less than eyes can see
Yet more beneath is left to greet
My ears hear psalms mourning me
Tears leak upon my pale cheeks
Speeches are given casually
Venom spews through the loose
Vortexes of speaker-box booths
The black hole that once controlled
My inner intuitions and sold soul
The owner being you in truth
Sweetly scented lullabies shoo
Away doubtful tunes in bloom
The replacements are couth sleuths
Meetings seldom meet fruition
Meat meets my mouth in suspicion
Meaning I'm once again a victim
Meandering through prisms
Restaurant owners are slower
To greet me at the doorway
Knowing fulfillment of my order
Won't require a table for more
Not for the kind of man who
Stands and is hardly understood
Also seemingly oblivious to who
Is true and reluctant to face proof
That you are not for me
You are not for me
You are not for me
Beautiful girl
You are the grains
Beautiful girlfriend
You are the coastline
Beautiful woman
You are the ocean
Beautiful wife
You are the Earth in whole
Yet you are not for me
You are not for me
You are not for me
The tremors
The whispers
The night terrors
The torch bearers
The dark caresser
The static selector
The burnt dresser
The hell blesser
The black lipstick wearer
You are for me.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
My goat has a speech impediment
when the doctor checked her throat
she could only say "AAAAAAAAAAAhhh"
not "ahhhhhhhhh"
The doctor broke the news to me one day
'your goat....has an impediment' he bleated quietly
I dashed out of his AAhffice
AAhway from his AAhccusatory statements
AAhnd rushed into the legs of my goat
'Goat...what are your legs doing there?'
i asked
and I looked up
and saw the goat dAAhngling above my head
'what in the world?!' I AAhxclaimed
'dearest Goat-etha, I had no AAhdea you could fly'
"every since AAh shAAhared mAAh secret, AAh felt so free, AAh could fly"
(she didn't sound like she had an impediment to me)
'but Goat-etha, you know you can't fly'
and she crashed to the ground
crushed by the knowledge
that not everything is possible
'dear Goath-etha, I still love you, you know'
and she stood back up
and ironed her previously-crushed legs
and walked to the doctor's office
and gave that man a kick in the bAAhlls
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
Ah, t'is dream is but so strange-o, strange, strange, strange!
And how an impediment, and a burden it is-to my brain!
O, I saw thee in t'is morn's dream,
So clearly and purely-just as I hath loved 'im.
Thou wert as adorable as thy picture canst be,
and upon gazing into thy posture-
t'at very strange feeling swished into me;
I felt it my mistake not to be close to thee;
To embrace thee and adore thee in my arms;
To cup thy cheeks with my round hands-and kiss thee;
Kiss thee so smoothly and lovingly for it shall take away all thy pains.
I woke up and looked for thee in vain;
I wanted to retreat into my dream,
And remove all the vagueness on thy face,
Whisper only the best loving words into thy air.
And to rub my palms about thy dark hair,
And assure thy hesitant, and dreary soul-t'at everything
shall be all right; and tomorrow shall be fair.
Ah, indeed-indeed; 'tis but indeed so strange!
For I thought not of thee before;
Thou wert not the one I wanted;
Nor the one my fertile heart adored.
Ah, thee! What is wrong then-with me?
Where hath all my hating feeling gone to-and hath it been for nothing?
Ah, canst but fate be true-t'at I am to be thine; and thou be my darling?
And in the adjacent minutes thereafter-I saw thee roamin' about alone;
Thy face clouded by dull loneliness-ah, seeing which indeed made my heart torn;
Thou wert too fatigued-very unlike thy usual bright complexion;
Thou wert indignant, and perhaps all too dark-and forlorn!
From thy face had faded all means of loveliness,
And thou wert mourning over such loneliness,
Loneliness t'at was evil-and haunted thee, and fiercely mocked thee;
Rendering thee agreeable not-much less deserving; of thy immortality.
Ah, thou art immortal, immortal, immortal! And how canst fate deem thee not?
How violent-how strange! How dire and petty-how impertinent!
Ah, but t'is feelin' really is absurd-in every way;
For hath I never thought of thee, and praised thee not;
Only at night and noon, thou hath oft' attended my poetry;
but still not my joy and woes, and even not my story plot.
Ah, thee! But t'is hope is dangerous-for I am supposed to hate thee;
As well defile, deject, ****** and abuse thee;
For I needst to despise, strangle, and destroy thee;
For I remember how thou wert once not sweet-and bitter to me;
And thus put the wholeness of thy being forever, into fires of struggle-
For thou art still-not the one I hath precisely been destined for;
For I hath not loved thee like t'is-for t'is feeling is all new; like never before.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 6:50 AM UTC
I’m just a ,
Poet with a speech impediment.
My pain is deep,
So misunderstood,
Evicted out to the streets,
So lost in the wind, my speech is my trigger, trying to find a way to learn, within gods blessings, another hard headed lesson, every
day
spiritual warfare, gotta ask god to protect us ..
im just a poet with a speech impediment ..
Oct 7, 2024
Oct 7, 2024 at 5:27 PM UTC
Peter sought his merriment
While standing in the sediment
And fishing in his element
For something good to eat
He wasn't unintelligent
But suffered an impediment
Conversing wasn't eloquent
A stutter had him beat
One day, on the r-riverside
With hunger to be satisfied
And p-p-planning homicide
He cast his l-l-line
But bang he was immobilised
Attacked from the w-waterside
A giant p-p-pike astride
The struggling s-swine
The scene w-wasn't glamorous
The p-p-pike was amorous
The gossip would be scandalous
Someone might s-s-see
The struggle was c-clamorous
P-Pete was v-victorious
P-popped up like L-Lazarus
To f-f-f-f-flee
He promptly pattered homewardly
And cursing pikes internally
His hunger sat infernally
His hook remained unlured
The pesky pike had planned to be
Inside of Peter, rectally
To poke and **** him naughtily
But hang on..... he was cured!
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
I hate writing in pentameter,
That nagging old parameter reduces
The breadth of expression's diameter.
It's a barrier, a boundary, a cage built around me.
I'd rather cast off the impediment and
Allow my thoughts to sediment freely,
Really, I just can't dig it, ya feel me?
After a while, it gets so **** repetitive, and
I'll bet it did drive Shakespeare nuts
When he wrote all his sonnets, back
When lords rocked big wigs and their
Ladies wore bonnets. That's another thing
It's been used and abused for like six *********
Centuries, contemptibly does this old relic
Haunt us and daunt us and taunt us
Writing's not meant to be a chore,
It shouldn't bore and indenture me, but
Rather, set me free me and
Instead be adventure, see?
Wow.
I'm Somehow,
Feeling much better now.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 9:15 AM UTC
Rotunda of doors
Select an arbitrary gateway
Rotate a frigid bronze **** and dislodge
Gaze into an opaque, stone encircled realm
Proceed through the division
Inhale damp, stale earth
Hesitate in a moment of hair-raising atmosphere
Ignore and tread slow
Ignore the echo of the sole warmth emanating in rapid succession from within
Ignore the nagging to turn back
Do so anyways
Realize pupils dilate when the entrance is not visible
Debate possibilities
Feel pointless muscle movement pulling white eyes for stimulus
Exhale tension melting air
Whine and tread against small stalagmites
Extend palm forward and to the side
Grasp for sight
Grab nothing
Constrict throat down
Acknowledge and accept the situation
Continue onward
Stumble against a solid
Release pain
Trace the direction of hopelessness
Follow with purposeful motions
Brush against another impediment
Successfully avoid
Allow air to flow against dry tongue
Taste lifelessness and potential
Release resolution and determination
Gain momentum
Allow ears to beg for rays of sun
Decide resiliency
Pant and expend time
Sense vision assimilating
Investigate the environment
Crouch and take in the floor
Gasp and whimper
Behold bones
Three sixty and engage all faculties
Cower as truth speaks: labyrinth.
Lift chin and only stone above.
And collapse, collapse onto knees in dramatic fashion
With back arched over, hands grasping and pulling at hair
Fight against reality.
Terror eviscerates.
Submit on to the parasitic solid inorganic void.
Become more bones.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC