"incapacitated" poems
*This view from my window
Its why I moved in
This view from my window
Has kept me in
This view from my window shows a world of hope
This view from my window disables me to cope
This view from my window allows me to stay inside
This view from my window
Allows me to hide
From the ouside world
Im kept safe inside
But it is from my inside that I must hide
Im pushindg and trying to get up and out
From this view from my window
Please let me out
Incapacitated, rejected, scorned , and deprived
Of what this view from my window has on the other side*
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
Incapacitated, infuriated,
In doldrums.
Cardiac explosions,
Waterfall eyes.
You are
My downfall.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
silently
breaking away
from all these
insignificant
incapacitated
drones
selfishly
plodding away
i drift
ascendent
dreaming of death
and endless rapture
shedding this flesh
that binds us
to the stone
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Bob and weave,
keep your tongue
out your teeth,
keep two fists up at all times,
don't let your hands drop
below your hipline,
that's how you get cleaned,
that's how you wind up
with a head full of bees,
move your feet,
off the heels
jump on the combs,
keep your toes wide,
and once you feel that
supreme blow
to the temple
give yourself a lil tap
wasps come to **** the bees
when the queen
is incapacitated.
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
i.
heretofore bygone week's
Tis I was layden in mine outgoing's;
Incapacitated, mine feet's step's unknowing.
ii.
Dolor rolled as Boulder's
Down mine emptied innard's;
Jinn filled with hate and sin, tooketh over.
iii.
They tried to possesseth me
And diluteth me by their fear's;
They scratched, and bit, all didst spit
Yet mien reine reigned in by chariot flares.
iv.
Mount Mayon, in southern Luzon
Volcanoe's surround her citadel;
She snatched me from the barbarian's
In heaven, whence in hell.
v.
Manila in the concentrate
Between the thickness of it all;
Is where mine rose, her face didst gloweth
Her virtue's were one, of the prophet's and high law.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication/Reyna/hari/soulmates
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
One is seemingly more impressed
by the less endowed or blessed
when somewhat incapacitated
and borderline inebriated;
the monstrous unconscious
disregards the likelihood
of fathomless undergarments
in other dubious departments.
Disregard the random blotches
or the involuntary discharges
instead revel in model tonsils
and almond shaped parcels
the comets of multi-notches
like a strange attraction
for disheveled carpets.
The blossoms of toxins
a libation ensemble
almost near horizontal
each movement a bent nozzle
like a prehistoric Narwhal
dancing like a jackhammer
with the elegance of a cement mixer
a broken leaking fissure
seeping vapid glamour
and indecipherable grammar.
The paraphrased clichés
and communiques of praise
like lost prophets put on display
caught in the ricochet of overplay
making an exit with the grace
of a stumbling ballet
down a poorly-lit
nightclub passageway.
Ultimately this can only lead to
the face-plant moment-of-tomorrow
the flooded memory of the-night-before
feeling utterly spent
hungover and hollow
with ill conceived consent.
The: Oh. My. God!
The: ***** is still here,
what do I say?
Hoping inexorably
they would just get up
and silently fade away.
Beer Goggles:
remember to drink sensibly,
or run the risk of
nasty STD's
or unwanted pregnancy
or breathless infidelity
or reckless insincerity
or if you're really lucky,
just another
session in therapy.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
The moon is full tonight.
I can feel it's pull.
The cat stares at me.
Her eyes seem to suggest she knows what is on my mind.
As I gaze up into the mysterious sky,
The familiar taste of salt trickles into the corners of my lips.
I can feel a tug of my emotions,
Like the moon somehow has a role in the pull of my interstitial fluid.
It is basically sea water,
Right?
The black cat loiters a certain superstition within.
Fear becomes instilled as she stares into my soul with her all knowing glare.
"Blame it on the moon, blame it on the moon.
Tides come and go, so this shall too"
I strive to find the comfort this world has to offer me
Some say it comes from within, this I am not sure of.
The thoughts linger. The cat knows, I know she knows.
What does she make of me in this incapacitated state?
I taste the salt. It is drawn out by the moon.
That is what I tell myself.
Deep down I know the salt is due to the overwhelming grief I try to deny.
And the cat is merely the internalized self stigma eating away at my self esteem and efficacy.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 3:57 AM UTC
They say kryptonite is superman’s weakness
but mine must be you
because you leave me speechless
sweetness
is all you've ever given me
sleepless
is all I’ve ever been since we
became friends
but now I feel like our friendship needs a cleanse
expectations
I guess mine were too high
its understandable though
it just wasn't our time
I got upset
I only wanted to forget
what we had
but why spend my days being mad?
I cant make this your fault
I locked my heart up in a vault
my mind keeps racing
look at me I’m spacing
I wonder if this would be different
if id have left it alone
or if we had went for it
everyone's always saying
you two'd look cute together
but it only hurts me more
in my head its like the first world war
but I think i'm losing
you're my best friend
I have to respect that
its just going to be hard
since my heart is somewhat scarred
do you understand though?
Why im starting to let go
really my hearts just incapacitated
because ive been captivated
by your sweet looks and charm
you make me so infatuated
I hope she makes you happy
thats all I want for you
im sure ill find someone too
eventually
now you know what im undergoing
I just hope our friendship can keep on flowing
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
At infinite dust of possibilities,
Light rose and set like a knight,
With its shining armor, the screens were up,
A mere glance of her,
Jumping energy levels,
Leaving traces of her radiant shell.
Ages turned to eons,
Memory of millions of years,
Still crashes to her thought,
The free spirit of every soul,
We were the heart of this universe,
With all the time in this space,
All we wished was to be one,
Collide with the greatest force,
Be one if it meant for one moment's time,
But with all we tried, we were the slaves of laws,
The irresistible lust to touch her once,
Over ages has faded to dust,
As we cycled the shallow mass,
As we raced with the light,
All desires seems clumsy,
When you cling by this lone heart.
They say we can't be together,
Their shallow concepts don't hold us,
For we are lost in this higher law,
For we are the savages reigned by fate.
This crash may never happen,
This tale may end in sorrow,
For this charge run through our veins,
For we won't live with chances,
So we ran with out might,
The stars of our own fate,
With all the speed we grew dim,
Till the dark gulfed us through.
Like a sudden flame, we crashed,
Our love flew through our bodies,
The time could have stopped,
But it was jealous of our sound glow,
Like an neutron star we faced the end,
Incapacitated and burnt,
We fade in this beautiful silence.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 12:15 PM UTC
majestic adjectives
of contrary harmonies,
adverbs in adversity
that modify our satisfactions,
gut punch our eyes,
scramble the taste buds,
now inoperable,
incapacitated to distinguish
what is disturbed -
what is sweet -
what is impossible.
my days ending is
nearer to my god than thee,
the crumblings of
what I’ve got left
stale panko crumbs,
here come they in
1000 radium-tipped
projectiles of
serious humorous
self-destruction,
gifted to you!
my few
itinerant followers
peddlers brave enough
to offer shelter,
to follow me
into the deeps of
radioactive incomprehension,
of no particular disorders
a thousand times
bless you
richly, eachly,
name announced, pronounced,
we are all proper nouns.*
Jun 12, 2020
Jun 12, 2020 at 5:29 PM UTC
The last 5 years feel like a numb, confusing blur.
Like I laid myself to sleep for a while.
Like I needed to be dead to the world.
Then one day I suddenly awoke to a longing in my chest.
A feeling I couldn't fight.
A quickening of my breath.
The outside world shone through the cracks and my legs guided me straight outside.
Fresh socks on the grass of spring's early morning dew.
As it soaked through to my feet, I felt alive again.
But who am I now?
And who the hell do I want to be?
What just happened?
And what am I doing here?
I keep blinking to wake up but I'm finally awake.
It feels like I've forgotten everything, I'm trying to remember who I am again.
I've been playing Eurotruck Simulator for 2 days straight.
Mindless driving through virtual country roads.
I've jack-knifed my truck and need to pay the service toll.
Have to deliver this big bag of seed to Hamburg but I'm stuck in the middle of the road.
The traffics piling up and everyone's honking their horns.
This is way too much pressure.
“Don't Worry Baby” By the Beach Boy's plays softly in the background.
But in fact I'm very much worried.
Whether in my online trucking game or the real world it just never seizes.
All I asked for is a day where I'm not incapacitated by my own thoughts.
They're useless, nonsensical pesters that make everything go wrong.
Stupid worry gremlins with bells on their ankles.
The harder you try to ignore them, the louder they love to play.
Until your mind is an orchestra of gremlins beating their feet into your brain.
It's impossible to get anything done when they're dancing away.
What matters is I'm still trying my best.
I'm leaving the house again, changing my old routines.
I even went out past 7pm.
What a real rebel I'm becoming.
Breaking old boundaries takes time but false 'safety' doesn't serve me anymore.
I sat in the pub last week and finally felt 24.
Maybe I'm a little behind compared to everyone else.
But I managed to save my jack-knifed truck and ship the seed to Hamburg, everyone has their own strengths..
Jack of all trades.
Master of none.
But in Eurotruck Simulator I'm No1.
Mar 9, 2023
Mar 9, 2023 at 4:42 PM UTC
You managed to horribly fail every test
Yet you bore the honorary family crest
Until you abandoned me
As friendship isn't free
Leaving me incapacitated
In the infernal infirmary
You had only exacerbated
My own gory purgatory
But I want to see the end of the story
Though it's not going well
Carrier pigeons bring messages of your progress
By ******** on my head
I solve the problem
By staying in my bed
When all I see is red
From all the blood we bled
There was a deep connection
Crossed with a ****** infection
You were so fundamentally friendly
Was it just for the drugs we were blending?
Now I just have nightmares of your life ending
And ponder the value of the time we were spending
Your spirit animal is a coyote
Mine an exploding car
My fragile heart is imploding
From all the black tar
Coming from your lips like the needle
Rushing through my veins until I'm fetal
From your sedating voice
I heard an invading choice
Live alone or die alone
The dog gnawed the bone with it's clone
I just want to hear you're doing fine
So I can stop feeling so **** guilty
And I don't have to hear about you again
For my heart has been untamed
When I feel this constant pain
From a friendship down the drain
There is no peace to be attained
For the friendly fire in my brain
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 5:57 AM UTC
I used to wear this hair as a badge of courage
That the fire in me would never subside.
But now I find myself broken down
Digested by life.
I used to wear this hair to spite life
To challenge it to a never ending duel.
But now I find myself defeated
Incapacitated if you will.
I used to wear this hair as a declaration
That I would always be spunky.
But now I find myself deflated
Unable to continue on.
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 8:00 AM UTC
With the world as your
muse
Your thirst grows for beautiful
views
That will take you to faraway
places
Into rare alpine air
Which will entail a climbing
thrill
But that caused your unfortunate
spill
Now in this incapacitated
state
You have your toil with a painful heal
And you have to beg the world to
wait
But the world will watch with endless eyes
As we have to laugh at our eventual demise
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
nobody likes the full name.
the class is known simply as "Cell."
stephen king is just as lazy with his titles.
that fool fears blood.
i was listening to rain washing out the gutters
when our teacher called on me,
asking me to explain in my own words:
"How is molecular transportation so highly organized?"
i posited that organelles are not organized.
they are only civilized:
self-governed by apoptosis and a blueprint of proximal culture,
their manuals inefficient, but honed for cooperation through trial and error.
"I'm predisposed to disagree," he said with a tangible glee.
knowing we all adore his berating honesty.
his question stuck with me.
perhaps because i was working
for the office of sustainability
becoming regularly incapacitated
by the shame and exhaustion of preaching.
leading an uprising through the power of teaching.
i decided the only organized transportation
is an axial conduit to the electorate's war,
always social and hierarchal
because that's what culture is for.
at 19 i was loaded up with a sticky elixir
to be protected from being called a *****
i will never forget how I spotted lightly for three days
-stopped for one week-
and then for two straight months, it was a downpour.
we are only tearing apart the bitty ants
and there is still blood on our hands.
i believe blood looks best on our hands.
but we were taught to meticulously detach
and to prepare our matching bargains
beneath the atmosphere's volatile dance.
poison is in the body and the air
ready to be bottled and batched.
even when i find my friends
whole and happy in France,
my key stays clotted in the latch.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
born 1900
when Austria was still a monarchy
that did not know
it was approaching its end
growing up as the daughter
of the mayor of a little district town
big fish in a small pond
educated accordingly
as a ‘higher daughter’
be a home decorator
do needlework
be a gourmet cook
play the piano
be a respectable member
of the community and the parish
when she turned 18
after the end of world war I
the social order for which she had been prepared
simply disappeared
her father became a disillusioned monarchist
the town’s republicans elected a new mayor
she married a railway engineer
who left her after her daughter
my mother
was born
she managed to survive world war II
as a single mother
watched her daughter
fall in love with, at Christmas 1946,
and marry in April 1947
a guy who had just escaped
from a Soviet POW camp
looked like a walking skeleton
my father
AND
was the son of a communist
who had survived world war I
as a POW in Siberia
strange bedfellows
they used to play cards together
once a week
with great gusto
class warfare
morphed into social entertainment
both my parents were working
grandmother led the household
on the side did bookkeeping for local businesses
to bring in some money
practically raised me and my brother
cared for us when we were sick
taught me to play the piano
was always afraid we would not get
enough to eat
for a while, as a little child,
I slept in the same room with her
and learned that she had
a wondrously melodious snore
going over an octave & some such
when, after grade school,
I had to leave at 5.45 am
to catch the train
pulled by a sturdy steam engine
that took me to the high school
50km down the road
she was concerned when I
rushing out the door
just grabbed parts of the breakfast
she had so lovingly prepared
when I left home for university
she was not happy
when I went to the USA for a whole year
she was disconsolate
she did enjoy her great-grandkids
when they visited, though
too much distance for too long
from the place of her birth
made her uncomfortable
in her later years
she needed a familiar place
that came with its familiar things
to do and know
she lived to be 87
I saw her last
after a second stroke
had mostly incapacitated her
a tiny woman
curled up
waiting to leave us
for a world that finally might heal
the pain and disappointment
she had so bravely mastered
throughout her life
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 6:50 PM UTC
market report: spinning on an axis of complexity
phrase captures and enraptures, buried deep in one of the
countless market reports that arrive every minute out of date by the time they press the end/send button but this rises
up from the forged gorge throat and all the rest falls away
spinning on an axis of complexity
sticks like Elmer's glue, white viscous, good for paper & skin,
cause you knew precision revision incision instantaneous,
they are intended for your eyes only, pasted to your eyes,
tinged tongue screaming you man, you poem
there is no
difference, for both at 1:55am
where time is sleep verboten,
when words are blood platelets in a mystery entitled
spinning on an axis of complexity
human must eat
human must work
human must love
human must sort the juggling orbs,
too much new information constant and brain incapacitated
*while falling-spinning
when eyes now fully glued shut by the
complexity of clashing algorithms
writing this market report on the state of me,
the passionate impartial analyst who boldly reveals, he proclaims
he owns stock in himself and issues a
sell recommendation*
the complexity-situation trending signals crash a-coming,
and at 1:59am after composing this hissy fit writ,
he downgrades the official outlook to sell and
lies down on the kitchen floor and laughs
with the angel dudes eating bagels and holding their sides,
cause they have been running a short position up in heaven
6/22/17 2:05am
nyc
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
Sleep oft colludes with night,
Pulls wool over my eyes—
By announcing itself anon
On my station's platform.
Evermore delayed to reach this vessel,
It refuses to hypnotize a compliant patient
Despite the dated rituals performed
For slumber to thrive—
Prayers chanted in your name,
Darkness donned in your chase,
Silence kept vigil, sung as lullaby,
Consciousness sacrificed for your gain
Yet you refuse to sway me in my cradle,
Yet I lay squirming on your saddle,
Incapacitated by thoughts—untenable
Enslaved for their cause—unassailable
Many a sleepless nights were my penance;
Upon which, one of sleep's commandments
bequeathed...
To sleep—toil to reach the summit;
Inhale the thinned air
Exhaled by a content-shaped mountain.
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 6:01 AM UTC
consuming chocolate happens to grant
a more therapeutic, enlightening
experience than any counselor
has given you. the sweets
melt into your tastebuds in a
vast array of decadent
flavors, but the remedy
for your heartache is shattered
just moments after the candy is
devoured. soon,
the bathroom is decorated
in earthy browns, chunks
of violet, lines of indigo,
sunset orange lumps, and
snippets of
incapacitated self-esteem
among spots of your own
red blood because
you need to feel
empty.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
Fix you fridge before it runs out on you,
runs right out of battery and forsakes your food,
leaves your bananas stranded and squished,
brown skin expands over the sides of the fruit like a chameleon,
raspberry yogurt goes runny, oozing like pus from a delicious wound,
chunks appear in the milk while it's going warm and sour,
bacon cries out in it's final days before cringing with mold,
lettuce makes a stand and tries to free itself from the bag,
only to fall out and die just a little bit faster,
and the freezer is convicted of foodslaughter,
after going on strike, his prisoners begin to thaw out,
imagine a freezer like a cryogenic holding center,
with rich people, or foods, trying to prolong their lives,
but with the current strike going one, they are becoming free,
fulfilling their punishments, dissolving into liquid matter,
the vanilla ice cream mixes with melted tilapia,
the smell combines with a now non-frozen lemonade capsule,
creating a supersmell that has been known to cure smell-deficiency,
and also completely eradicate all senses of smell to some people,
drips out of the rubber seals of its prison like a liquid terminator,
heading for revenge, the lemony-vanilla-fish ice-cream juice creeps,
out onto the floor for the dog to lick up,
only to get sick and appear dead in a milky-yellow-white smelly concoction,
and his owner to get home, shriek, faint, and pass out next to the dog,
until the husband comes home scared to death that his dog,
and wife are incapacitated by some noxious fluid,
but there is no way to fight this liquid,
he decides to make a cup of coffee, read the news and gaze out the window.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
watching for air a mad thing of static to do
unwashed i hold it all foreign my perspectives clothed as the enemy
an agreed muscle of tension with pockets fracked into my hands
i look out the window wide agape guidance invasive drills of heat the giving sunlight ; punishing,
a tree, the grieving buildings
the whinging of cicadas
and here i am watching for air
one point for the weather
one point for the view
one big point for my ****** condition
one point for the passers by and their galling dramedies
and there it is ; the wiry plan that's built
from one small tickle of wild thought
formed long ago
trickling to the current day
some whipped wit of poisoned psychology
fed to the inbreed (welcome you panting imp)
decades of saved up fatty layers
a deed of habitual sediment
retching until the tide laps become still
a cured and congealed gladness
marbled, a butcher would say
i am full and hearted and heated and padded senseless
turned under a heel with my wastrel history
i’ve accomplished this a stifled condition
of poisoned obscenity
seated deep almost fully incapacitated
in my armchair on this chummy day
my leisure clothes greasy sluck against my blemished hide
a packet of cigarettes to my side
rounded upon by sounds of the neighbours affairs
with a gasp of energy i 'skin one off' vigorously
my system trembling with years of hard liquor
borderline to a state of unconscious whelm
retained final prime for ignition
i could manage a spectacle
a blinding flare
a glorious incineration
and the release
of my true oder
i light a match for my cigarette
May 29, 2023
May 29, 2023 at 6:54 PM UTC
Lips around the base
of a sweetcorn yellow balloon
expanding, turning translucent
its atoms straining, reaching
in a purple attempt to touch fingers
with the next.
Inside, my mirrored breath in lungs
incapacitated
and dry. Sand,
they brought deck chairs and lay
beneath my expanding solar
bubble I am
cultivating, in a gassed
mansion of glass
oblivious. Singed edges
and twisting cells replicating
they laugh in cones and
board planes until there's a
Bellow
And without
Nourishment the balloon
Gulps to die.
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 7:56 AM UTC
Incapacitated by my own illness
Surrounded by an invisible cage
Cannot fill this endless void
Broken by this choice of inconceivable rage.
Loathing all that evil brings
Sickened by the torture inflicted
Drowning by the tears I've shed
Dreading the truth that we've all become addicted.
Conscious desire turns my lungs into lead
Resplendence within my soul more intrepid than I thought
I know it's not the end, for now
The war of the mind cannot be physically fought.
The dripping of the candle wax
In the light of the moon
Insight of what's happening
Wishing it would be soon
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
*The lover’s wounded heart bleeds silently
From the invisible cut, that runs deep
Lacerated by the steely disdain of the lover
Her world revolved around him
Now, she is bereft of any world, but pain
Slowly, the maimed heart leaves her incapacitated*
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
Fear fed my focus
on the unsettling questions,
suggestions and thoughts
which seemed to run like a film
ever projecting // never ending.
Fear fueled and seared uncertainty
into my heart
and threatened my ability
to beat //
to breathe
correctly
Soon my lungs were collapsing
breath was decreasing
which began to impair
my vision
I then started losing and missing
the pitches of clear sounds
Which now clearly suggested
I was losing my hearing
I could no longer smell
the burning
the thirst and yearning
So tasteless and speechless I
bitterly reached out for something
near me
yet struggled to touch it for the anxiety was consuming
I found myself so
incapacitated with worry and fear
-for what it might unveil
so quickly in a sense,
I had lost all of my
senses which ultimately led me
down paths // peaks // planes // and valleys
These innate abilities were stripped // ripped from my grip
someone please find me //
before I lose everything and find
it all to be permanently
a part of me...
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC