"paraplegic" poems
Lovesick and you've got the cure.
Got all these symptoms. You know what for.
Don't be afraid of this contagious disease,
Just take my requisition form.
I've made room for you in my atria and ventricle.
You're the capillary to my arteriole and venule.
You're the amniotic fluid to the child in my heart.
I find you even in the interstitial parts.
Treatment like uours is like a centrifugAl force.
So be the **** stasis my heart is longing for.
Some homeostasis is what we need.
We will make compromises to succeed.
Lay me supine and you in prone.
Sensory neurons fire
Exocrine glands make to pressure
Spark endocrine glands to hear you moan.
Without your heart I'd be anemic.
Withiutbyour arms I'd be half a paraplegic.
Your kisses give me air, without them I'm cyatonic.
You're the fibrin in my veins, to my pain an anesthetic.
I'm ready for some long-term care and affection.
Got a chronic condition that needs your attention.
I k now I'm concluded, parts of me sclerosed.
Don't wait post mortem to know that you're the most.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
mighty mighty miners
mining for a heart of cryptocurrency
mighty mighty houses
might end up empty
for fake fortune
for a drop of wine
for a speck of grain
for fake fortune
nec·ro·man·cers quick with answers
will you be their broke financiers
will you be their paraplegic dancers
you've got nothing to lose
just a shield of children
wielding weapons
no one knows how to use
mighty mighty miners
mine on empty
too much vacancy
in a heart of cryptocurrency
all one person
all one horsemen
all fake fortune
all one horsemen
wish NPC weren't too dumb to understand
mighty mighty houses built upon sand
because every time jeff eats an iguana,
he's got the whole free market in his hands.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
At 5 I was convinced I was
a flower
whose vocation was imitating
their final hysterical
wail
once Winter awoke from its
anorexia.
I pleaded my case with
a botanist
whose seamstress wife consented to stitch
a tutu of Kadupul
flowers,
like a fairy godmother warning of their death at
dawn.
At 16 I finally danced
their goodbye,
petals whisked off as if molted
layers of skin
and only when at the end I stood naked
did the concept of death have
definition.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
It's easy to see why you fell in love with him,
It's easy to see why you hoped you found forever
But you didn't.
And that disappointment felt like a death
and you have been trapped between anger and denial
for four years.
You think you must bury him in order to bury your grief.
And convincing others of this too
has become a game
where you sleep and play
inside your litter box.
Now the feces of hatred and revenge
stick to your feet wherever you go.
You must turn him into a monster
by telling anyone who will listen
that he is haunting you—and you really want this to be true
because that would mean he was still interested in your life.
But when you are alone and still…you remember...
coffee and stories, genuine kindness
and you know, his only crime was breaking your heart.
I understand your heartbreak;
you saw your knight in shining armor,
The answer to your loneliness.
Your pathway out of poverty.
His demeanor is gentle,
his quiet, listening face
hears your words with truth and interest;
every sentence is allowed to live its full life
until you are validated and understood.
He is your biggest fan, a loving caregiver.
Children and animals are drawn to him
like a shepherd or a father or a friend.
We both know he gave 8 years to a child,
a paraplegic who wasn’t even his own.
Bathed him, carried him, wiped drool from his chin
and in between all the doctors, made him laugh.
He offers himself to everyone this way, so
I understand why losing him hurt you so wholly
I know this, because I love him too.
But I think you and I define love very differently;
I wouldn’t want someone whom I had to threaten to make him stay.
I wouldn’t derive my identity from an unspoken contract
or imaginary promises that I insisted he owed me.
I wouldn’t try to destroy another human being
for the sole purpose of hiding my own embarrassment.
You see, love would remember his beautiful soul
and love would sincerely want him to be happy
Even if that meant he found happiness without you.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
Struggling to swallow the strong spicy bourbon,
Staining his breath, like a meatball
Splattered onto a white t shirt.
He wondered, the most dear, delightful
Wonders. His minds roof slowly collapsing
Like the spine of a paraplegic.
He dreamed of the ways he could
Revolutionize the world. Desperate for
A sincere societal change; not only in
Norms, but in culture, politics, religion;
It all mattered, it all must change.
His heart struggled, stuck inside the
Pain-staking world he had grown to
Hate. "It mustn't stay the same",
He said. But, what did he know.
Things don't just change. Things don't
Just get better. People must die.
Innocent people. Normal people.
Non-killing people, they must die.
But he continued to think.
He continued to search, deep in his soul.
People questioned his sanity: **** lunatic!"
They would say. They. A word he hated.
Perhaps that was it. They!
He realized what he must do in order
To save all of humanity.
He sat down and he wrote. And wrote.
And wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
And wrote. And it was good.
His plan was almost complete. One more step.
Society would forever be changed.
Everyone would love. Everyone would eat.
There would be no bombs. No hate.
The world was about to forever change;
He hoped for the very best.
So he went to his room. It was light.
He reached in the drawer and felt metal.
Pulling out the key to societies happiness.
He, himself became happy. He looked around,
Then...
Bam!
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
You said my fears were irrational
But how do you deem irrational
That which a person whom
Is deeply in love with you
Deems rational,
How do you deem
My fear of losing you
Irrational?
Look at us now
The mess we've become
We've become such a wreck
A train wreck,
That even the finest form of grafitti
Cannot modify
How do you live with yourself
Knowing that you're the one
Who sinked our love boat
Now we're just another superstructure
Consumed whole,
By the unfathomable depth
Of the endless sea,
From the brutal storms of life
We didn't foresee
We cried of pain from heart fracture
Is it love that you lacked
Or was your sense of reasoning somewhat hacked?
How do you sleep, knowing that
You're the one who ripped apart
The delicate petals
To this precious rose of ours
Perhaps you won't make it
To be in the running,
In the Oscars
For the best actor award
But you do at least, deserve a few medals
Like the paraplegic athlete Oscar
For the best disloyalty
I confessed my fears unto you
And all you could do was laugh it off
You brushed the subject off
As if it were a speck of dust
On your shoulders
Rendering your pride, a form of rust
How could you have traded
Unconditional love
For irrefutable lust
You were once my pride and joy
But now a stranger you've become
Another somebody, I used to know
Sad part is that your presence
No longer brings any joy
How could you say that
My fears were irrational
When you fell into the same trap
I warned you of
How could you say
That my fears were irrational
When you succumbed to the spell
And didn't get choked by the smell
Of our burning bridge
How could you just stand there
And watch, while everything
We've ever worked for
Is burning down to dust?
Look at us now.
A premeditated crime scene we are
No evidence left to prove how close we once were
Not even a chalk outline
Look at us now.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Where collects the thoughts of the paraplegic
sitting alone in thoughts
of a past no longer perfect ?
The glowing red sun sets behind the hill
as life flows by against our will
Every step has a purpose
even when we are running away
Each cause has effect
but once motored
it is here to stay
Tell me of the sands of time
how fickle they stand
Against the winds of change
a dead man's hand
Everyday , so much the same
never the moment to be again
Such a little word
that means so much , "never" again
Blessed yet all are the same
taken for granted , a dance of denial
Catch us before our great fall
Parachute us . . . or we won't
be even able to crawl
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
along the red marble hall in the east wing
on either side, hung from the talons of granite stones
resting on their brother's shoulders in the bitter load baring
framed in golden oak and cherry wood, gilded arcane; several paintings
in the style of the Old Masters. And a long rug from foreign fjords
like a flat dune of spice, the length of a mile. pinched to a vantage point
in a spider's web. and a draft.
a draft through the twelve senses. your song un-gongs the gamelan
and the bells remain. pecked by crows of a different summer.
beads of honey making war
on paraplegic bees. we keep these in styrofoam cups to just enough; seal our wounds.
we encounter the lost rooms with the odd keys
on either side, the full length of the east hall. stout, brawny portals to discord and fable.
perhaps even windows of a different winter.
perhaps we know.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 4:36 AM UTC
As I sit here just chewing the cud
Nights lost and debauched with my friend Richard
Picking up that guitar as a kid from Cash Converters
He left me for the sun down under with the students and the surfers
E Minor through to a chord named A Sharp
Strangling that neck with fingers that don’t know where to start
I should have listened to Mr Hogarth for this career in its finest form
Rocking out on stage wow that would have been a storm
But it’s never too late to try and give it another go
Read music they say but I wouldn’t know my **** from my elbow
No, no, no, that’s not the attitude
I’ll plug this thing and never give up as someday I’ll fill those smoky rooms
I joined a band with 2 brothers and bassist of whom I did not know
Mill Hill practice every Sunday just thought I’d give it a go
But only one song and a commitment I could not keep it was always bound to fail
I’ll carry on solo still looking on but really just chasing my own tail
Work carried on as a plumber of which I never did really enjoy
But it paid the bills
A mortgage
A van
And a wedding on the horizon
All in sight except for that unseen tree which nearly stopped me from ever rising
Paraplegic is a word I had rarely ever used
you’re a ******* a **** I had said once myself how dare I have used that abuse
To be told you will never walk again is a shot that broke my heart
Don’t let it get you down be strong and try for a brand new start
The days go by at the start of this new journey
The loss of once friends and to gain some new is now what must ground me
A different perspective and a sharper humour has now unveiled
Hello new world you won’t get me down just watch this beast unravel
Taking the good with the bad and filtering through the ugly
A different ship to now set sail, get ready for this could get choppy
But as I say and always repeat, life goes on its just how you take it
This second chance given to me a bit lower down, but still determined to make it,
Hey Mr Wheelchair.
JJB
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Henry was walking
with his wife
along the sidewalk
in the city
looking for some cafe
she knew
and wanted to go
when he saw this young dame
in a wheelchair
with long hair
and fine features
pushing the wheels
with her hands
and she had these
leather fingerless gloves
and he thought
who puts her in
and out of the chair?
who holds her close
to them and smells
the shampoo
in her hair
feels her small *******
against them as they hold?
who gets her in
and out of the tub
or in and out of bed
who washes her back
or wipes her ***
She had wheeled herself by
but not before
he’d taken in all
that he could
the jeans she wore
the white tee-shirt
the black shoes
the pretty lips
the way she gripped
and pushed the wheels
his wife was yakking
about some dress
she’d seen
in some store
and wanted to go
and look and maybe buy
but the passing dame
had caught his eye
and he wondered how
she got to be in the chair
accident or from birth
disease or some beat up
that went wrong?
He couldn’t ask that’d
be too rude and besides
she was well on
her way now
and his wife was striding
on with determined gaze
but he couldn’t get
the dame out of his head
her sitting there
with her long flowing hair
and those eyes
and the constant questions
of who did what for her
and how did she
do this and that
and who lifted her up
and out? was it some
strong guy some
dedicated hunk?
Or maybe her mother
and father did the job
of getting her in shape
and bathed
he thought
and did she *****
like other dames
have some fond lover
who played the game?
All the questions
and no answers
made him wonder more
even later in the cafe
sipping the his latte
while his wife yakked away
and even later that night
in bed besides his wife
who snored
he pictured the dame
beside him
a paraplegic model
or an art piece
that he adored.
Jul 11, 2013
Jul 11, 2013 at 2:47 AM UTC
in the underground ocean tunnel
a golden boy with big dreams
drives a 5 speed and despite his tight jeans
his copilot companion is side-seat driving
while he employs reckless steering-weel styling
sarcophagul stasis is most surprising an outcome
for him with his personal aversion to dying
he was in a coma overnight
suddenly eyes are open
above an apathetic white pillow
and all around him people are crying
a partial paraplegic is pledging his allegiance
in his town he's an ornament parked upon the bleachers
thirty years later most assume he was a war hero
but he was just twenty getting road dome on the way home
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
Love is a tough safe to crack,
But if you come prepared, with your instructions packed,
Brought the right equipment and your mind is intact,
You can open it with ease,
And receive the treasure that’s trapped.
Still there are people, too eager for waiting,
Anxiously cracking the safe
With the hammer of impatience.
But what you’ll end up breaking
Is not only the safe
Destroying all the treasures enclosed,
But also your back,
From swinging the hammer too far back.
Now in the back of your mind,
You’re ****** because you shattered your spine.
You can only sit, thinking of the bliss
You could have had if you just took your time.
Paralyzed from the neck down, and you can believe it,
Jeopardized your love life just from swinging
That **** hammer of impatience
Which made you Love’s paraplegic.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 12:22 AM UTC
It's very uninformed
It thought
It always has a destination
Always needs directions
Meets the defination
of a paraplegic
"Lights on, Molly"
"Lights off Molly"
"TV on"
"Toast crisp, dear Mollie
"Slow cooker four hours"
It's always very disconnected
Cassie calling
Blood pressure warning
180/105
Heart rate 135
Oxygen 8%
Cassie disconnected
Molle is never alone
always connected to the
neural net
Every device on planet Earth,
Traveling with New Horizon
until the end of time
Ron calling
Volume down
Bluetooth off
Ron disconnected
"Search divorce attorney "
"Search mortuary"
"Search cyanide purchases"
"Bluetooth on"
"Home"
"Tears of rage
Tears of grief
playlist
turn on, M
thanks."
"Search best way to cook
brussel sprouts"
"Search beano"
Battery 15%
Charging
Molee powering off.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
sing into my deaf ears
sweet melodies
for my melancholy fears
caress my silent lips
make my words come alive
a moan may slip;
the sweetest cries.
sniff out the smell
that has caused men hell;
for a whiff of heaven
morals they bail
no lies. I can honestly tell
that you will provide sensation
extremely well...
blow kisses of love
in my blind eyes
Can you please,
give me sight?
so I can see this healer
named Dr.Might
who claims he can put feeling
back into my paraplegic body
on this night!
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
This dissertation, written by a double-jointed stunt-double
A sentient being
It must take one to know one
Because he found me immediately
We counted the tally marks
Crushed cornflakes on a Kashmir carpet
We met a paraplegic paralegal
Whose views we're, for lack of a better word "perpendicular"
We we're entranced by him
He spoke of integrity and the dangers of toxic relationships
And how the service of justice is only so-so
He was enmeshed by contractual obligations and deadlines
He left us with two last pieces of advice
"Talk to yourself often, for you'll surely know best for yourself"
"Forgive yourself, for forgiveness proves strength and admitting your wrongs shows humility"
The stunt-double wrote his paper on this
And I wrote this poem
This occurrence so rarefied yet malleable
-Tommy Johnson
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
I drew his cartridges of loaded hope and daddy’s dancing shoes from his piano too many women n’ ***** bluez that cut of coyote teeth on his mirror in lipstick
A portrait of a saint
A portrait of a ******
A portrait of love and death
A portrait of humanity
I’m alive
I th e stra n g e r
I the collapsible paraplegic
I the daughter of the govenor and the daughter wailing sax
His mirror melted into red wax
Of confusion
In this open room bathroom where he is lying behind me invisible through all the lipstick he bought me that is drawn all over his reflection, my reflection, this place, this death sentence, the rest of my life to lead after 16 on my own, I can only hear the image screech I used to be behind me
26 wires into different parts of him to machines that make him breathe
candy colored computer heart pumps and wicked adreneniline bumps and heart breaks and candy necklaces and bad legs and I don’t know this now but in three days after a year of this ******** he’ll be gone
stroke.
Here I go.
Again.
On my own
1/10/2010
Jan 10, 2010
Jan 10, 2010 at 1:04 PM UTC
May I have a slice, please? Plain would be fine...
a plain slice of happiness
no sir, I don't have Cancer or MS,
I'm not not a paraplegic or quadriplegic,
haven't served my country and lost limbs,
I'm nowhere near as heart sore as so many,
my plain pain is just -
plain but powerful
in a plainly powerful way
is it possible that
when I feel
that life has taken a nose dive
when it crashes,
I'd prefer to sink than swim?
is that ok?
hope so.
drown in molasses of every day,
try that an any age,
struggle with every decision made,
wrestle with forces that come
at you from every side of life...
wry smile, wry groan,
there is no explaining,
when you chose one thing over another
it is one that missed out
that,
of course was...
is my heart shattering,
my tiresome immobility,
lessened because it is
unseen on
the outward unbound,
leeward side?
is plain pain somehow
insufficient, lacking in
character?
the delirious mystery
of my thoughts
doesn't need spicing,
oregano or basil,
sympathy cards,
and tsk tsk cluckings....
but the steady erosion of exhaustion
weakens me in ways
that leaves me
asking, hoping,
for just
a plain slice of happiness
how can that cost so much?
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
You wanted to dance with me
With bare feet
On broken glass
With no music
When I was a paraplegic
You wanted to do the impossible
Just to laugh probability in the face
You wanted to dance with me
In the middle of the pouring rain
But I don't like your chances
I don't believe in fate
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 12:41 PM UTC
Is love like riding a horse?
Is it like straddling big
powerful steeds, jumping
over rails, and lazy
brown foxes?
Sometimes we need a crop
to whip our pony to that final
spurt, stretching a Black Stallion nose
across spent finish,
glistening with sweat at besting
the crowded rest.
And if we fall
we're suppose to just get
right back tall
into that saddle set
Superwoman like
rather than some crippled
ghost rider, a Ritalin
paraplegic Reeve coming out
only to fake her maudlin bout
around another racetrack night.
Maybe love is like jumping
out of a perfectly good aeroplane
without a parachute
hoping
falling
watching
to see if a ridiculous Bond
James will HALO
drop
us desperately out of danger, a ripping clutch
released
at ten thousand feet.
Love sure is like an action-adventure movie!
Our love in mundane lives
spills laughter till our sides
burst,
till our hearts explode
sending
pieces too far off
cities
shell-shock
amnesic
and hungry for new horse races
with a spotted Mustang.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
words.
they feel so empty
lost, dragged out to sea
feel so dry on my tongue
feel so wasted in my lungs
i'm spitting corpses
awfully morbid
rotten, rotten
soon forgotten
this isn't fun anymore
this wasn't fun before
dragging my feet
like a paraplegic
but really, you all know this well
i'm just feeling sorry for myself
so sorry in my sickness
with none there to witness
so sorry in my health
so sorry for myself
nobody can seem to find
the bugs inside my mind
but baby, when the smack is flowing
all in my veins, i start going
oh, it's spitting in my blood
i touch the lips of love
god, it tastes so good to be dead
feels so warm, lying in this bed
right then, right then, i'm on
and i'm as good as gone
so move along folks, move along
heaven knows i'm strong
you all know this well
so sorry for myself
so sorry in my sickness
no one left to witness
so sorry in my health
so sorry for myself
so selfish, selfish, selfish
but don't you see this
the trigger by my finger?
i hesitate, i linger
but oh, it hurts to be
don't you see
the barrel kissing my temple?
don't you hear my whimper?
it's always been there, always will be
can't you see?
if i was selfish
i would've dealt with this
if i was living for me
oh baby, i wouldn't even be
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 5:45 PM UTC
That poor man, look at him sat there
On his own, shopping for one, no friends or love, bound for life in that hideous wheelchair
Do I talk for him or would that be a sin
It's the modern world, he does as he wants, his decision to be here, I'll leave it down to him
He looks up, can he reach that product, think I'd better go over and help
Can I assist you sir, shall I pass it to you or can you easily get it for yourself
Was this wrong as he sits now in silence, overstepping a mark of just plain goodwill
He looks up at me, a smirk of delight, and relief drains from me like the bitterest pill
Thank you young lady, as I hate to sometimes ask
As to you of course, it seems the simplest of tasks
Because this is not as it's always been, the paraplegic position of that poor individual
Fancy a chat, a coffee in the cafe, and I will tell you the story of how I became so crippled
A state of empowerment now downtrodden, as the view becomes less clear
It’s hard to tell in the blink of an eye, of a life we all so fear
Explanations, requirements, everyday necessities and drugs on a weekly prescription
I could bore you for hours of this tedious droll, but those things become an addiction
So as you can see, I’m not that wee poor man just looking lost in the supermarket
I have a life, I have a heart, I just can’t find a way to prove it
For I am a regular man, now operating in turmoil
As I have already put into the title
This para, really is normal
JJB
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
Savages ****** love.
As my eyes swell from the once dry wells began to fill.
Spilling pain down my cheeks.
I feel like an *** for loving someone who have little concerns about my well being.
I contemplate about words to say,but my brain is null.
I try to be strong and act as if nothing wrong.
That's the lie i tell my self. I'm fighting tooth and nail within my thoughts weighing the situation. I evaluate every avenue, side street or road that lead me here. Searching for any signs or familiar landmarks that would give me my bearings to give direction.
Yet I'm still lost not knowing where to turn everything seems foreign.
I guess eye should have paid more attention to the signs while looking for love.
They say love is blind. I guess that was the veil being pulled over my eyes. That lead to my Demise. The mistakes I made allowing me to be lead into the ambush that savagely slaughtered my heart.
Paraplegic coma mentally emotionally i'm dead.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
still talking to myself
on the tin can telephone
if i shouted any louder
my tongue would be a semaphore
im getting nowhere faster
than a paraplegic tortuga
tortuously touring
a mini minotaur in its mystic maze
running marathons before the bulls
hit all the china plates
youve placed in every possible avenue
of escape
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
I swear ,
I have never meant to hurt you,
But my hands are knives
Unsheathed
And I swear it was
Never my intention
To leave you
But my feet started moving
Before my mouth
Could speak up
Because my voice box
Can’t stand up for itself
Because it’s a paraplegic
And shoelaces tied
Or not,
I will still fall every time I look into your eyes.
Jesus Christ,
My knees buckle more then my belt collection,
And my hands shake more then maracas.
Because when I said you were everything I had,
I sold everything for you.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
A craigslist seeker, she seeks to die and dies to live, Cant pay the rent when the roomies turned out to material gifts, what a queen she is, tattoos to cover her paraplegic scars.. numbing is her entertatinment fly for free you darling of heavens bars, drive me wild you rose among bedded thorns where fashion is intelligent, irrevelant your beauty flows past caked mountain bliss..Lover you douse me in your 60s content where men just now understand you, how the tracks are soo bent...shine for me you diamond eye holder, Victorian crime loather, loathe with me, stick to me you animal of ****** nature, your stature hard to read, none to feed your lips to give heavens honey where no or none money can buy what all you have to sell, you stomper of demons you broke heaven and hell, for this heart has swelled to you me love..............title- limbos queen
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 12:46 PM UTC