"numbed" poems
I have no wit, I have no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numbed too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
A lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is like the falling leaf;
O Jesus, quicken me.
22.1k
Stricken by the absence of color,
and the absence of rainbows that once sung to me.
Nullified and numbed by the irrationality of my ego,
and my hatred for sanity.
These are punctured wounds by the hands of the stained glass,
as this shattered hourglass speaks gibberish to me.
I'll take all the blame,
it was all my fault anyways.
As if my world wasn't trippy enough,
the only thing standing in my way is you.
So let violence sing one last time...
Scream for me poetry.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
When the fire grabbed his body, it didn't happen by degrees.
There was no burst of heat before,
or giant wave of smothering smoke
and the feeling of a spare room one wants to escape to.
The fire held him at once
—there are no metaphors for this—
it peeled off his clothes
cleaved to his flesh.
The skin nerves were the first to be touched.
The hair was consumed.
"God! They are burning!" he shouted.
And that is all he could do in self-defense.
The flesh was already burning between the shack's boards
that fed the fire in the first stage.
There was already no consciousness in him.
The fire burning his flesh
numbed his sense of future
and the memories of his family
and he had no more ties to his childhood
and he didn't ask for revenge, salvation,
or to see the dawn of the next day.
He just wanted to stop burning.
But his body supported the conflagration
and he was as if bound and fettered,
and of that too he did not think.
And he continued to burn by the power of his body
made of hair and wax and tendons.
And he burned a long time.
And from his throat inhuman voices issued
for many of his human functions had already ceased,
except for the pain the nerves transmitted
in electric impulses
to the pain center in the brain,
and that didn't last longer than a day.
And it was good that his soul was freed that day
because he deserved to rest.
Translated from the original Hebrew by Karen Alkalay-Gut.
8.7k
I noticed a while ago.
I am subconsciously
Objectifying everyone.
And when I think about it
Objectified people
Are easier
To deal with.
I don't think this odd tendency of mine is
Natural.
In fact, I'm sure it isn't.
It's the result of a subdued conscience.
A conscience I always had.
I cared deeply for others.
I felt bad
Cried myself to sleep
For the smallest things.
An offhand insult I wasn't sure was even heard.
A chip taken from the lunch table.
An argument to be forgotten and ignored the next day.
I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I cried
Hated myself
Continuously hit myself
Cried more
And had nightmares.
As I got older
These feelings faded
But still I get these pains in the pit of my stomach.
And I remember how I was
Before I was numbed by
Objectification.
I saw people as people.
I cried because
I don't want people to feel bad.
Not because of me!
I can't think of anything worse
Than being that picture on a dartboard
That gives the incentive to
Never.
Miss.
To be hated.
Even disliked.
Thought of as trash
As I often am
I suspect.
Looks of disgust I draw
From people I care for
Who I don't want to hurt
Who constantly hurt me.
It tears me apart
And as I write this I feel tears welling up
Which they haven't done for
Years.
I began this objectification.
"That's just a dumb person."
"He's an idiot."
"Just one of those mean kids."
And I stopped caring if I hurt them
Because caring hurts.
A lot.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
I have many koalifications,
Numbed by gum leaves, stupefaction,
Glazed by arid summer drought,
Real hot today, there's no doubt!
What's this? Black storm clouds?
Who said clouds were allowed?
Now there's rain a'drenching,
Oh, it's stopped, not worth mentioning,
There's a eucalyptus Petrichor,
I'll daze now, did it rain at all?
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
He topped coffee with melanin
as if there wasn’t even blackness
set in rigid processes and routines
days in and out of smoking
numbed his brain to senseless cells
and he dreamt of dreams I never hold
poetry was just pretentious to him
a narration of my soul and heart
every word I wrote to him was a spell
the curse of his native Englishness
every adjective was a clocked tense
and he never understood my words
nor heard my melodies and rhythms
and as he rode, sure it was like a dog
lost in sense, an escapism of reality
the puffs turned to paranoid tales
those sudden withdrawal and panics
drove me away to the deepest forest
and my very bones felt his distaste
collapsed in manipulation and new age
his push always became my push
and the pulls up became my polar
Such a little boy with no ultimate direction
Locked in the abyss of the faded memories
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
Stirs its ashes and embers, its burnt sticks
An eye powdered over, half melted and solid again
Ponders
Ideas that collapse
At the first touch of attention
The light at the window, so square and so same
So full-strong as ever, the window frame
A scaffold in space, for eyes to lean on
Supporting the body, shaped to its old work
Making small movements in gray air
Numbed from the blurred accident
Of having lived, the fatal, real injury
Under the amnesia
Something tries to save itself-searches
For defenses-but words evade
Like flies with their own notions
Old age slowly gets dressed
Heavily dosed with death's night
Sits on the bed's edge
Pulls its pieces together
Loosely tucks in its shirt
4.4k
Why did your hurt me, when I gave you my love?
Was it because I wasn't good enough?
I cry, tear after tear,
And I wonder why you are not here.
You use to call me ''baby girl'',
But now you say hurtful things that make my head and heart swirl.
You pushed me away when I tried to make things right,
And now I am to weak to give another fight.
Your words and actions ate at me like a predator devouring its prey,
You numbed me, so all I can do is mumble senseless words while I lay.
I can see that things are turning for the worse,
And I blame myself for being a horrible curse.
I am sorry that I hurt you deeply inside,
But all you did was tell me meaningless lies.
I hope one day you can forgive me,
But as of right now let me be.
Time will tell me my fate,
But I know for sure I wont ever be your bait.
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 3:25 AM UTC
The world revolves and I can't hold it’s pace
neither roll around the unending cycles
may be it is the grey hues polluting my growth
or this age that is fiercely catching up with me
The sun rises and there I lay watching it rays
numbed, unwanted, determined and yet focused
such days I just wish for a lover's touch
I long for that unending lullaby uncorrupt
Sometimes the silence in the pain cascades
It trickles in droplets settling on the morning dew
and I wish to follow its pace, lay in the calm want
be carefree and unrestrained from emotions
I wish I could feel the rhythm of another heart
declare the green sheen of the unfolding leaves
as we lay counting the stars and making starts
laughing aimlessly as the joy surfaces unearthed
But all I see is the hurt of what love bears
the ones who held my soul close are strangers
unable to feel my innate palpable rhythms
fading on and on to a distanced and unmerged shore
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
vexed by the solidity of the granular surface
of this rough and tumble dream
i awaken to a forest of sunlight's in a dark world
to my sleep numbed mind
it resembles
the artwork of french revolt era
royal court damsel in distress figurines
dancing with dark-ages statues of plagues death
the starving meet the fed
and they struggle for who leads this dancehall of the marcarbe
burning the ashes of the old worlds dead flames
i look away to find her face
near mine
cut into shadowy sections
i hear within her spoken thoughts
the contortions her life has suffered
at the hands of grey faced strangers known intimately by her
i wish with heart and soul to reach out
and comfort
to remove the burden
the shadows of her face
are reflections of the world as she sees it
she is mesmerized by its ugliness
and she cannot close the door to her past
it lay like her childhoods bedroom
filled with broken teddy bears
and soiled sheets
if i could heal you
if i could even ease your moment
i would trade my living soul to have your smile
you are loved
you are so loved
a lame beggar in the rags of a monk
limps slowly from the effigy of a old world
as it burns with unspoken rages
white smoke from the roof
another chapter of history closed
with too many secrets
too many
but the beggar takes consolation
that she was given a second chance
a dove birthed from flames
here in the dust of the old world
you are loved
you are so loved
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
I’ve forgotten
to be anything but
space—so enraptured
with the black that
the forest was
less than a goose pimple
on earth’s flesh.
I have ignored the
eighth notes
hanging from the pines.
I have forgotten
the snowbirds and whipped
winds.
I have numbed the needles
pocking skin through
my jeans.
I have forgotten green.
I have forgotten green.
I have forgotten green.
now
the light of frozen
flies dims
in your mouth.
now
love washes out
in seasons.
now I eat
sugar-frosted buckthorn.
And I see you
ready to touch
through one
hundred leaves
and foliage.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 12:53 PM UTC
I chase these ideals...
These versions of my life that don't exist,
They just become tormenting fantasies,
Sometimes, destroying everything I love in the process...
I begin to analyze the concept of what's "deserved,"
Deserved by whom?
Who's the authority?
The sky's the limit?
Not when you're shackled to the ground, shackled by the wake of your past,
You can't escape your shadows,
Lost in mistake after mistake,
Like a stone of scar tissue,
There's nothing left to wound,
Which exit did I miss?
Maybe I should have gotten off this road a long time ago,
What went wrong?
What went right?
Love, family, life, dreams...
This game full of tricks, fools, dogs, and thieves,
Blessed or cursed,
It's all this relative facade,
Romanticizations and fairytales,
You've got yours and I've got mine,
A nonsensical masquerade,
Wrapped in oblivion,
By dawn, the masks come off,
No one's dancing,
And we're left standing naked with our truths, our choices, and our pain,
Daily reminders all around,
Everything is dulled,
A shimmering lackluster,
Sensations numbed,
Spare me sensationalization,
Please don't offer me prescriptions,
Don't offer me subscriptions,
They don't disguise the lies,
They don't smooth out the wrinkles of the sweet, euphemistically, sugarcoated descriptions of what is and what will never be...
Clandestine connections,
Undeniable, as we spiral through this network of intimate caves...
Slipped into a hole years ago,
Never seemed to crawl out..
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
Oh yeah he wanted me
One look into those smiling eyes and I could see
He wanted to forget and feel good for a change
To be who he really was and not keep feeling estranged
Oh yeah I wanted him too
I wanted to feel alive and pretend I was someone new
I guess I found a way to self medicate again
One taste of him and it numbed out all my pain
The inertia of all our heartache
Just got to be too much...
We wanted to just live again and be off that sinking boat
All we needed was each other to keep us afloat
How could that ever be wrong and thought of as tragic
When all we wanted was just to feel wanted ~ bring out all that hidden magic
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 5:05 PM UTC
Earlier today,
I laid outside atop the snow,
A feat that I haven't tried
Since life's true colors showed.
The frost numbed my body,
I'm sure red flushed into my cheeks;
I stared speculatively at the sky,
My eyes searched and seeked.
I wanted to understand the beauty,
That nature offers so readily, the solace,
That it blankets us in even on cold days;
I wanted to understand beauty that is flawless.
My tired eyes embraced small, soaring figures
That coursed through the air with grace;
Content to go their own paths,
Not engaged in a petty race.
The figures were falcons,
That spiraled and sailed on wind above me,
Probably heading south,
For warmth to set them free.
But in that moment I compared them
To man-produced ashes;
Gray soot that courses through the air
Dashes, in varying directions,
As fire burns.
In that moment, the birds drifted through the air
So aimlessly, like the ashes do,
Landing faraway,
Wherever they flew.
Nature itself could be ashes,
If people continue on this path;
This destruction ought to incur
Some sort-of wrath.
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
You take these brilliantly colored pills
to paint your soul
in a way that that can be done
with only the trigger of a gun
but the piano's song is not yet done
swaying with death
you're starting a game that plays in blood
your heart may flood, with the dance of a discontinuing thud
the ground is holding us all down
is it possible to be released from it?
or is the shot our way out from these ties.
when the piano play it's final note
you can't help but want to be numbed
it feels better but,
your angel won't tie your arm
they hide the beauty from you in the needles they keep from you
Fight it softly
make the holes reappear
make the lights reflect from the glimmering things you hear
leave now, let the gun take you out
to the beat of your life
you aren't living now.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:38 AM UTC
Her irises darting, probing.
Her tastes floated and churned behind mine.
Brushed, warm, wet
lips and tongues.
We kissed until it burned,
numbed but unsated.
Fear, passion, pheromones blended
flammabley
and ignited on a fire of psychotic teen heartbreak.
Stalking, trembling, steering my soul
past it
(but always dragging it behind)
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
Savory sense to ease my worry
Walked in the mist, mild with fury
Graveside scene, eerily silent
Souls of the dead speak out in violence
Mind numbed feelings, frozen with fear
Take the next step, not going near
Hair stands on end, weak at the knees
Black cat crossed, begging you please
Lay down and listen, whispers at night
Can't close my eyes, a moment I might
Rust broken gate, iron wrought ring
Shhh do you hear? The dead starts to sing
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
My husband sits for days on end,
Staring through his empty friend,
My tearful words fall alone,
His mind resides in combat zone,
A man replaced by shell so cold,
Numbed by scars of war untold,
Violent dreams lived each night,
Lashing out, at all in sight,
He returns to war inside his head,
Trauma stained by all bloodshed,
A trigger pulled, his mind released,
Begging for, all thoughts to cease,
His scars remain, but can't be seen,
Buried deep inside his dreams,
Years of therapy, will help him free,
From the damaging effects..
.. of Post Traumatic Stress
I pray for the day, he's finally home,
So the trauma of war, can leave us alone.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
Though it is such a beautiful pristine night, puffy fluffy sky
a pelican had soaked spaghetti like limbs mangled and dangled
thrusting thyself forward to comfortably drown in wet frozen crystals
[I am a life I am blinking] Your feathers were flapping frosted and numbed
Oh I bet the water was stinging yet pleasing - 656 55 3-4 the elderly woman said
her kind soul with a phone number for SPCA wildlife rescue and rehabilitation
the pelican is near death, I divulged with envy for that wave drowning you in warmth
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment.
My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming.
My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children.
My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done.
My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares.
My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:
**A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.
It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as
such on death certificates.
More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.
Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all
religions and at all levels of education.
About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing
the horrible cycle of abuse.
About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one
psychological disorder.**
And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included.
And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children?
When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and **** and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’?
I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
5 years ago
A 13 year old girl awoke
Thinking that everything
Was as it always had been
But still, something didn't feel right
5 years ago
The shock of it all
Numbed the 13 year old girl
She walked around in a daze
Everyday was the same
5 years ago
The flowers piled up
The condolences overwhelmed
The 13 year old girl
Just wanted everything to stop
5 years ago
All the problems started
The selfharm; depression
The 13 year old girl
Turned to thoughts of letting go
5 years ago
On exactly this day
I, a 13 year old girl awoke
But everything was not okay
Nothing felt right
5 years later
An 18 year old girl
Grieves the loss of her mother
A 46 year old woman
Who died suddenly
Exactly 5 years ago
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
The whirr of the rush hour in the morning
and the lack of human sounds outside my door
reinforces that I'm alone.
It was a noise similar to my usual routine,
of quelling needy pangs of connection,
with what is always plugged in.
You had slept with me on this bed twice before
and you were unaware that on it,
I numbed myself quite frequently.
I reprimand myself to let go of expectations,
they have long become pipe dreams and idealism,
and would be foolish to follow still.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
Two sparkle at xciting find.
Joy, relief, wishes flood our mind.
Reality numbed by ecstasy of find
Hardship, struggle, desires for now behind
Rightfulness of find, reality’s duality
Realization of self, fighting morality
The opportunity loss creates uncertainty.
The opportunity gain, creates possibility
How to capitalize on this potential
Designed improvements appear preferential
Decided, we proceed unconventional
We proceed like natural
Blades of diamonds remove the rough
Painstakingly disregarding, unwanted stuff
Transformation, tough
Mindful, not to lose a bough
Rough turn sparkle, every time
Faceted gem’s birth, sublime
Artistry creates, perfect rhyme
This treasure set in time
Most beautiful combination
This magnificent creation
Testament of devotion
Evokes amazing emotion
Bestowed, this incredible treasure
Brings about untold pleasure
Value, without measure
Diamond forever, ours to treasure
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
I grew up in a religious home,
they implemented this dream
that one day ill be come a priest
And it was the only way to make them happy.
I lived this silly dream up until the end of 5th grade when i realized,
There is no god.
Fore how can a man of such holy stature commit all these heinous crimes against his own "children".
I was 10 years old when i realized i had enough, that my voice needed to be heard.
They dont talk about little boys getting molested, almost intentionally looking away as if it never happens.
Us boys are taught a long list of rules from a young age to never cry, never show fear, never back down, just a whole lot of nevers.
But I was never taught to deal with a grown man inside me.
Believe me it hurt, it hurt more than any pain i have felt to this day.
What made it worse was the one inside me, my father.
At first it started off innocent enough, he was drunk and didnt know what he was doing.
But it soon progressed into a side business he ran under the table
"20 dollars, 20 mins"
At 8 years old, brandy became my best friend. She was the only thing that numbed my pain, although forced down my throat so I wont fight back, I learned to enjoy the burn.
A year later i went to my first party.
Months of getting beat down and broke all was ment for this day.
23 guys; one boy.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 5:52 AM UTC
Kiss you in the places you have numbed. Choke you till you cough up an "I love you".
Nov 16, 2020
Nov 16, 2020 at 7:38 PM UTC