"panicky" poems
A
little
ANXIOUS
tonight,
oh
hell
be
honest
I
am
FREAKING
the
FU#%
out
PANICKY
cannot
breathe
lungs
are
tight
struggling
**A
N
X
I
O
U
S**
anxious...
anxious
anxious
ANXIOUS
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Integration that we clamour for
Disintegration we design for
Unity in Diversity: India’s facet
Diversity , disunity are in closet.
No national spirit acts in rescue;
No co-ordination glares unique.
Vitiated Political Ambitions snarl
At the stranded panicky people.
The Himalayan chill frozen minds
Eat , drink in star bars and mines.
Father of the Nation Gandhiji weeps
At Highway junctions in Idol forms.
Harijans weep , Girijans weep, but
None to keep promises highly put.
In Legislature Canteen Primary needs
Pitiably play shadow-dance; no deeds.
Votes and Whiskey stirred black- horses
Rush to mikes in spikes ; roar for votes!.
Illiterate poor and injured minds again
Ink : first- finger for a five year tension !
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 10:06 PM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
"Wala pay sulod atong sako Nay.”
Sack of rice is empty
Stomach rumbling mercilessly
Mind is hazy, breathing sporadically
Cold porridge is a feast.
“Go home!” says Mama sternly
Frantic, frightened, panicky
Rocks hurled, bullets fly
Blood splatters; running aimlessly
We dodge our way to safety
Cold porridge is a feast.
“I will not,” I say adamantly
She looks at the sack mournfully
Empty. Devoid of sanity.
Cold porridge is a feast.
“We’ll get some soon. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I feel weak, I am crabby
I’m staying despite this misery
Cold porridge is a feast.
Childlike will, piety of soul
Purity of intention, pursuit of living whole
Cold porridge is a feast.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 6:56 AM UTC
the alcoholic’s eyes are the least searching,
there’s a fixed point in them,
they’re not darting as you might expect
with the loss of the virgin’s carousel of
frenzy: up & down up & down.
the alcoholic’s eyes are fixed on a point
that makes the world less transfixed in its parabolic fluctuations,
that steady eye we’re all expected to have
when a hallucinogenic curtain is thrown over our eyes,
when the young moralise the old
and the old can’t teach the young -
hence the alcoholic’s eye steady darting into commotion
he least expected - otherwise known as the world.
‘but the lions are caged!’ the alcoholic bemoans,
'now i’ll have to put up with economic tourists panicky over eating their own
in the race of who gets richer first spawning a thousand gypsies
correcting political correctness to a hijab **** ****** at for conversation!'
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
sleepy eyes open glimpse high ceiling red wood beams house built in 1920s glance out window tree tops blue skies mountains in distance flock of birds flying east chirping sounds passing car engine accelerates inhale deep breath through nose stretch legs plantar dorsal flex feet raise arms over head stiffness in shoulder feel strange sensitivity in right pectoral above ****** cautiously examine with hands feel coarse lump growing more like nub smell moss glare down at growth protruding from chest panicky by soreness rise from bed to mirror on closet door tree stem jutting out from chest inspect dark bark like calloused growth little leafs budding this cannot be race in nervous tantrum run to bathroom suffer painful weight pulling me down clutching carrying foliated limb with arms see myself in mirror horrified stagger back to bed lie on right side branch resting on mattress breathe anxious breaths reexamine pectoral area feel sinewy roots spreading under skin across chest up neck down over stomach waist legs forget how to get home disorientated nauseous exhausted what is this flora invading me ******* kafka metamorphosis post-modern hyper-real narration without accountability jorge luis borges metaphor without mindfulness fairytale run wild jean baudrillard simulacrum psychosis room now filling with plant undergrowth stinking of earth dirt gooey slugs worms shells bugs festering climbing towards windows voracious for light warmth moisture blocking out morning sun entire body trapped in tangled twisted leafy twigs excruciating pain fright lungs gasping suffocating encroaching darkness fatigue loss surrender wake up 4 AM from nightmare scared to fall back to sleep
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 3:45 AM UTC
In the thick evening fog
the man walks with his dog
-
The two friends roam leash-less
A bond of no, oppress, aggress, distress
-
They wandered, trailing close but still apart
Yet, never so exceedingly to miss the beat of the other’s heart
-
He breezed on by my petty stroll
looked to me and sang, “Hello”
-
The black dog saw a squirrel, darted towards the bend
I panicked for a moment, “He gonna lose that friend!”
-
Panicky, panicky, pondering, what is loyalty?
Faithful is a friend that never will leave me
-
Their love inspired how beautiful devotion can be
To stay, without being chained, freely.
-
Leading ahead or following quietly behind
I am His and He is mine, without stress of mind.
-
The dog waited and wagged with the squirrel
engaging about his friendly man and the feeling girl.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 8:55 PM UTC
miles away.
well I was plagued
and pale and panicky,
ripped up torn pages of a
glamor **** magazine,
coco lips pressed to
the cool floor
beneath the hoard
- lovely.
lowly lows loathing
show boats & warships.
flicked a spittle
writer ribbon atop
white middle fingertips
& said,
'praise the passive lord, pretty.'
'yes of course, of course.'
'you are forever, ever golden.'
(oh & then some.)
such a fearless feeling
breathing like new
free fare blaring lights thru
iron clad glass and
such as life, the knifey night
comes to pass, short & sweet;
shock treatment, therapy.
shot right thru me.
weak need.
stripped bare and bored
I stare and mourn
& I laugh.
bliss
wrapped in magic,
you poor perfect *******
I would just
hate
to be you right now.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 8:11 AM UTC
Friendships change like the flows of a river
consuming elegant banks
Some last a lifetime.
Some fly past in five minutes
In a moment of panicky crisis
Or a glimpse at what might have,
if you had just grabbed.
friendships are never what you expect.
Most expect too much
some expect very little.
Friendships can be silent for years,
then come alive with the cacophony of a Blue whale breaching
mid Atlantic,
where only the swallows cast an ear
Other friendships crumble like the chimneys
and the coal mines of a long gone age.
Leaving only rubble and shrapnel to sift through.
In a bomb site of broken friends.
Sifting you acquire a filthy broken dolls head
It reminds you of a childhood
when futures were eternal
and friends were too.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
I'm dreaming beside the creek
I'm dreaming of skies with aurora hue
I'm dreaming beside the ocean
Of angels singing and playing their golden harps
I'm dreaming in the forest
Of fairies dancing on the pine needle
And moss carpeted forest floor
I'm dreaming in the woodlands
Of a place where time is eternal
And where wishes come alive
A place where dreams, fantasy, and illusions exist
I'm dreaming in the meadow
Of a world to call my own
Free of pain and sorrow
Where nothing bad or tragic ever happens
And where everything is sheer bliss
And pure magic
I'm dreaming in fields of flowers
Of true love that lasts forever
With no hearts ever broken
Or no tears ever shed
I'm dreaming on the mountain
Of a friend who understands
One whose always there to hold my hand
And tell me it's okay
The one who puts their arms around me
Or offers me a shoulder whenever I cry
I'm dreaming on the shores of time
Of orchestras singing me lullabies
Whenever I feel sleepy or tired
Or perhaps playing a tune to calm me down
Whenever I feel panicky because I'm scared
I'm dreaming underneath a tree
While the sun slants it's rays across my cheeks
Dreaming of everything pretty
Of life calm and cool
Forever tranquil
I'm dreaming of all the things
That make you and me happy
The things that are so pleasant and cheerful
I'm dreaming about you as well
And when I wake up from these
Happy and all-too-short journeys
I wonder, are you dreaming about me too?
~Marian~
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
I got locked out of the house today
While feeding my cat on the porch
In a bathrobe without my purse
No phone, no key, barefoot of course
So I sprinted to the driveway
Where my man was still backing out
Engrossed in checking his emails
He must have missed my screaming shout
Backed out all the way to the street
His eyes ahead in the early dawn
He didn't see my panicky dance
Off to work, in a flash, he was gone
Despite my last ditch effort
Racing after him down the street
He never looked back, not once
I was abandoned with ****** feet
It's only half past 7am
Time to problem-solve my way inside
Even though I had a ladder to climb
Every lock and bolt let all hope die
That day I spent on the patio
Long and hot it was to be sure
Feeling neglected and left behind
I cried a few tears in a blur
Then I did some overdue yard work
Drank out of the hose like my dog
Relaxed in the hammock instead of lunch
Dozed off in an afternoon fog
Till I found a book on reflexology
I'd been meaning to read for so long
Practiced a few techniques on my cat
And planned how I'd tell Bill he'd done me wrong
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
If I had to say anything I would have to say wow. I can't believe that you are so perfect. I almost hate leaving. If having countless people hurt me in the past to lead up to being with you then I wouldn't go back and change a single moment. I'm not good with being emotional and talking about my feelings around you so that's why I'm writing them. You are amazing, sweet, caring, perfect every word I can think of you are. How could I want anything more then just laying around and being a total goofball with you. Why would I want anything esle then being as happy as I can be. Why would I want anything esle then sleeping with you and actually sleeping all night and not waking up constantly cause I feel nervous or panicky. I don't think I could have it any better. You asked me what do I like about you and I couldn't give you good answers but I don't like your voice and I don't like your hair and I don't like your singing randomly. I love them. I love that you feel comfortable with me I love holding your hand when we are at target or the mall. I love being around you to not even caring if I come home or not. I always thought that I never was good enough for someone that everyone always would Leave me and never look back but I feel different with you that I feel safe. Safe. I do love you and those three words only have came out once before and I got totally riped apart because of it. I'm trying to put everything out on the table and rip away from any of the nagtive feelings I have towards love and open up let it all go and start new.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
I can eat chocolate until I want to *****
Down ***** until the room spins,
Pump weights until my muscles disown me
Or walk for miles until my legs tremble
And my heart calls for help in panicky spasms.
I can do all these things, again and again,
I can hate myself, berate myself, and half **** myself,
But I can't escape myself,
So I am as well forgive myself,
Love myself, accept myself,
And try to find redemption from within.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
paris...
no american in sight, or how i just see utopia...
songs on the steps of sacré-cœur, kissing
an american girl, then cheese and wine
next to the Eiffel tower, laughing, joking, trailing
and tailing off with talk of nabokov,
the nightclub scene with ping-pong ecstasy dances,
youth, youth, youth,
of youth that congregated once in those places,
parisian girls congregating for a game french hushes
with the chinese whispers and anglo comic charades
learned from the conquering normans...
paris back then, what wouldn't i have given for it,
but i learned of starving north,
where lecture upon lecture repeated david hume,
and i said:
it's the 21st century after all!
make edinburgh the new paris!
oh paris, but paris stay intact,
with the eiffel tower in my palm,
where all love met no love
but love met love all the more fictive,
written with a million reincarnations
that once told a tale of warring fractions known
as factions,
and it was told so: paris of my past where
i walked the streets with the compass height
ordaining coordinates that the tower was
to thus learn:
in times of panicky sentencing est mort,
people congregate in hawkish gaze
at monuments of their bone and marrow
turned into cement and irons of scaffold,
and there they congregate to ogle a new hope
when encouraged by a new fascination
of those that are less amazed by the phonetic
simplicity of animals than those who keep them.
oh paris, how i too wished things would have
remained a truer you begging truancy
from international press coverage,
how that one summer i became embedded
in taking to sleep on rock that felt like
woollen napkins filled with duck quills.
and in the memoriam altar two boys played
this song: as entombed by the title.
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Turberlence.
Turberlence.
What have you done.
You have my stomach wanting some tums.
I knew when I took this flight.
Somehow, I would end hating this plight.
Just as soon as the air plane lifted up.
I was holding the hand of the next customer.
Sweating and panicky with each height.
I'm still questioning myself taking this plight.
The stewardess, saying calm down.
It's going to be alright.
Didn't make it any easier of a ride.
Higher, higher the plane now was.
I'm now hoping to live to see my love ones.
In my mind.
I'm saying plane, plane please land down.
All it takes is for you to turn around.
A hope.
A prayer.
That might come true.
I'll never know.
Cause I passed out.
Least , I got to touch back down.
After being on higher grounds.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:06 AM UTC
The door throbs with sweat
In the morning-tide
"Whom can come at this time?"
A friend, I bet.
I stalk the sound until I reach the ****
I open it to see the face of a cop.
Some questions spewed out of the mans mouth,
about if I have seen this other man printed on some page.
Then showed me of this woman,
which coincidentally is the one I've been raised.
They stepped in with no approbation
Suddenly, the atmosphere grew with scads of tension.
They access themselves into my home.
And snooped about the room, with noses to the ceiling.
I got this panicky feeling.
Again with the interrogation.
The only thing that fled through my mind was irritation.
Words came at me and caused an explosion.
Never have I felt more broken...
I constructed this stockade
to stable myself from memory lane.
And to have it easily be destroyed,
made me realize of all that I've been trying to avoid.
The men left, leaving me with bricks to recollect.
It was not a friend, that I have bet...
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
The fluttering of wings,
trapped,
circling, lost,
panicky,
Trapped in not my stomach but my head.
Going round and round,
round and round,
round and round.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 2:22 AM UTC
1.
Full sta(r)ring
I sit as the window
was a pleading enormous nobody
he declared my head
practically lost.
2.
flustered you’ll doubt that
he glanced
sleep can’t.
3.
Crooked conversation listeners
clenched authority grimy
beside the sight attempt
4.
that chanced amusement
obliged its stiff attempt
by askance explanation
he and the slipped tongue
therefore sitting
on the heels of friday
5.
overhead the engine slipped suddenly when
she whispers explanation
grand
6.
growling hurried difficulty
shouldn’t reason but
the creature bitterly
declared in smaller steps
"you’ll doubt when i"
7.
I blinked and riddle
the shifting moral of executed
fright the cunning
underpromised
dependent muddle
congressional huddle
8.
not the sadistic wet world
glaring or the the the
defended
answers soaped the the the
dyed course
hello doesn’t the the the
let my coming
9.
adding highest denial
we tear the despair
rolling secret sea so far
winter guard softly introduced
my remembered underneath
10.
his daughter
a canary warily dared
to pretend to drink in
bound education of judging
11.
the height dating
and pushy she interrupting
like the party
for wonderful
couple of sharks
12.
elbow listening did dishes
she declared panicky
we will go by asking
uh um
curled hair blank slate
forming saucepan all sobbing
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:09 AM UTC
I know your mind is tired
Stressed out
Worn out
I know your heart is weak
But so strong
The things you have experienced
I wish you weren't alone in those times
Shaky
But you still manage to smile so beautifully
I know you were meant to find me
And I was meant to make you, your heart , your brain...smile
I am your dopamine
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
Eyes reluctantly open.
Almost daylight.
Panicky cockroach scuttle
inside my skull.
A gutful of wasps
and the imagined ticking
of a very real clock.
Never been a morning person,
but this is something else.
Vague chest pains in the
watery sun. An inconsequential
aching sort of roughly
where my heart should be.
***** used fly paper sky and
every in-drawn breath saturated
with chemicals and
not really trying.
Considering the possibility
I might drop dead any second.
Shrug.
It seems unlikely that
the morning
will prove so
interesting.
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 2:01 PM UTC
Come on light
Dance for me
to the sounds of Clair de Lune
I like the flicker of the ice
But you only stay lit;
Stay still;
Don't go;
Stay dancing
But don't tango
and I'm panicky because
it's as if the world would end
if you turned off
and Debussy closed.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 4:16 AM UTC
when your child comes out stillborn, they give you 24 hours with him.
24 hours of bleeding lips, 24 hours of fragile skin, 24 hours of cold toes.
they bring you food every three hours with the knowledge that you won't eat it, but the comfort of it there is.. sort of nice.
things like this aren't supposed to happen this far along is what they will whisper while they think you are sleeping
24 hours of he's getting colder, 24 hours of a lifeless, still rib cage, 24 hours of come on baby, just open your eyes for mommy.
making your way to the hospital, you hoped to come home with a bouncing blue boy but instead you come home to a cribless room.
they say it's easiest if people get rid of the reminders for you but his empty things are the only way i will ever feel whole.
then they start asking you the hard questions as if you didn't just press the button enough times to tame an ocean with waves full of guilt that will swallow your lungs.
24 hours of limp limbs and unreturned breathing patterns, 24 hours of there's some more flowers here for you, 24 hours of please just leave us alone.
we have 1 more hour together and your unresponsive nerves are growing colder. they made molds of your hands for me like they didn't know i would hold them forever.
we have 1 more hour together and the nurses will never be more apologetic in their whole lives than they are the moment they have to take a sleeping child from a mourning mother.
we have a little under an hour and as you wail, people watch from afar wondering if they'll ever be able to understand that sort of pain, the pain that makes you feel god has ripped your body open and left you for dead, the pain that makes you feel that this life really isn't worth living, the pain that there is no or might not be any god at all.
hours, minutes, seconds, days, time can't even begin to describe how long these panicky flashbacks of the moment they told me they found no heartbeat go on for.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
Nobody knows when our last goodbye going to be.
When our Love has gone and left us: we crawl back into the shell of our former self:
we remember, we relived, the first marble
that was taken from us, our favorite pencil that was snatched by the bullies
We let our emotion take over:
our marijuana-addled state of mind seized
Sleepless night, reckless hours, Dehydration and Insomnia –
Heartbreak is real: deception is a poker game:
We remember the struggles, we remember our kindness,
The sacrifices we made, especially burning the midnight oil:
Then we see that old familiar face,
Stepping right out from our bodies in slow motion...
And take charge, we tried our best to stop the madness,
But it played out like a cloudy dream,
In a panicky state we yelled for it to stop;
to please come back, please, don’t do that
Our mind creates our thoughts, but when the beast
Is out he goes on a rampage, right to the source of the game
To the love who has gone and left us:
The damage has been done: how do one move
Away from the game: death is inevitable
When the unclean spirit is gone out of a man, he walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none. Then he saith, I will return into my house from whence I came out; and when he is come, he findeth it empty, swept, and garnished. Then goeth he, and taketh with himself seven other spirits more wicked than himself, and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man is worse than the first. Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation. Matthew 12:43-45
R.I.P
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 12:05 PM UTC
I love how
despite how illogical it is,
somebody not speaking feels like
the end of the world.
Okay, maybe not the end.
But I get panicky,
I get worried that perhaps this is the end
despite what they've said
before.
You think you're being cute
and quirky and fun
but really they're worn out
by your smile,
they're dreading the next
time they have to pretend to
hug you
and tell you
everything's just fine.
Everything isn't fine.
I can see it.
You've been saying that
everything is fine
for far too long now
when before you'd take me
swimming in your mind,
skinny dipping where few
dare to go.
Where did that
closeness go?
Please,
speak?
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC