"pression" poems
(for Christopher Isherwood)
Seated after breakfast
In this white-tiled cabin
Arabs call the House where
Everybody goes,
Even melancholics
Raise a cheer to Mrs.
Nature for the primal
Pleasure She bestows.
*** is but a dream to
Seventy-and-over,
But a joy proposed un-
-til we start to shave:
Mouth-delight depends on
Virtue in the cook, but
This She guarantees from
Cradle unto grave.
Lifted off the *****
Infants from their mothers
Hear their first impartial
Words of worldly praise:
Hence, to start the morning
With a satisfactory
Dump is a good omen
All our adult days.
Revelation came to
Luther in a privy
(Crosswords have been solved there)
Rodin was no fool
When he cast his Thinker,
Cogitating deeply,
Crouched in the position
Of a man at stool.
All the arts derive from
This ur-act of making,
Private to the artist:
Makers' lives are spent
Striving in their chosen
Medium to produce a
De-narcissus-ized en-
During excrement.
Freud did not invent the
Constipated miser:
Banks have letter boxes
Built in their façade
Marked For Night Deposits,
Stocks are firm or liquid,
Currencies of nations
Either soft or hard.
Global Mother, keep our
Bowels of compassion
Open through our lifetime,
Purge our minds as well:
Grant us a king ending,
Not a second childhood,
Petulant, weak-sphinctered,
In a cheap hotel.
Keep us in our station:
When we get pound-notish,
When we seem about to
Take up Higher Thought,
Send us some deflating
Image like the pained ex-
-pression on a Major
Prophet taken short.
(Orthodoxy ought to
Bless our modern plumbing:
Swift and St. Augustine
Lived in centuries
When a stench of sewage
Made a strong debating
Point for Manichees.)
Mind and Body run on
Different timetables:
Not until our morning
Visit here can we
Leave the dead concerns of
Yesterday behind us,
Face with all our courage
What is now to be.
13.9k
*Depression has become an insulin injection
A necessary evil
Only required because I have been underneath it's moon so long
Any other tide pull would surely drown me in confusion*
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
I've been fighting with temptation in everyday that I'm
faced with
Resetting my mind
all of my hopes and my dreams
onto the re--placement
Of every loss
And the suicidal thoughts of me
Losing / Control
Still engaged in my mind, I'm inclined
while
Maintaining the goal
of walking down that straight and
narrow road of Life
Because I have a date with Destiny in spite of what is ailing me
in-
Sight
While all the while?
Through the dark of night
I'm forced to fight with many
different things,
With no self-esteem trying to figure out
who to believe
And who to trust and on whom
can I call?
Soul is uncontent to balance the fence
Slowly committed to fall
All while seeing the steady fall
Of my many brethrens called
For the same purpose and the work that was meant for us all
But still my soul fell slowly down
De-pression's Well
Totally left to figure out how to
make it out
Wondering how I slipped and fell?
Fallen waist deep
Lost
within the clutches of grief
With seemingly no way of me finding
an answer,
And no way of me holding my Peace
So as a means of release?
I'm now speaking my Peace
Releasing for this reason having the means
of picking up the
Spiritual Pieces
And putting it all back together using it for what it's worth
Visualizing the Holy theme giving birth to revive my hopes and
Dreams
But these dreams are not seen through the eyes of surprise
But only seen through the joyfulness of watching our spirits
Rise
Riiising out of the ashes where the
fearfulness is cruel and savage,
Out of the madness where the hopelessness is the rule of sadness
Escaping the Pain
No longer bond under heavy
Locks and Chains
No more wounds to be healed
No wounds to seal
No bandages with
-Stains-
May 8, 2022
May 8, 2022 at 12:27 AM UTC
Il y a moi
et puis, il y a toi
et encore,
il y a cette pièce
qui fond
il me semble,
sous la pression
de toutes ces
années pondérées
et pesantes.
il y a tes mots
et puis,
il y a mon silence,
et encore, il y a
plus de 365 jours
dormants entre nous.
j’avale toute,
cette histoire que je n’ai pas su ranger
je connais la déception
et je sais à quoi ressemble
un présent enceint du passé
et comment il ne cesse à
rendre amères les jours à venir.
il y a moi,
et puis il y a toi,
et encore,
il y a une passivité
encaissée au fond
de ma gorge.
malédiction,
il me semble
que tu m’as
arraché la langue
et personne ne sait
à quel point
ma voix me manque
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 8:13 AM UTC
Remains of times we were apes
Protecting our genitals with a drape
Soothing areas of friction
When our bodies are in action
Shaving it all put in question,
Necessity or cultural pression?
Will it make our bodies roar,
Or just be a pointless chore?
Anyway count on one thing
Hairy or not, I'm coming!
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 4:55 PM UTC
Depression
epression
pression
ression
ession
ssion
sion
ion
on
n
I'm turning into everything I promised myself I wouldn't be.
Everything I hate.
I'm losing all the values I've lived by.
All the values I've tried so hard to emulate.
I hate myself.
I hate this world.
I hate everyone in it.
I'm trying to be a better man.
The only person I have to prove it to is myself.
How about you?
Everything that I have is being taken from me.
The freedoms I once held dear are being stripped.
Everything a human being is entitled to is being stolen.
My happiness has been replaced with sadness.
Hatred.
The life that I had was so great.
It was filled with friends, food, and fulfillment.
I now have to struggle for all of these.
My friends are slowly becoming acquaintances.
The food is no longer filling and enjoyable.
My actions no longer make me feel good about myself.
Now I'm second guessing all the choices I make.
Their is a bright side though.
It shows through occasionally.
Looking into my sisters happy eyes.
Having a good times with my friends.
Doing the right thing because it's right.
No God is telling me to do these things.
No Bible is explaining why.
This is a good life.
I should be happy.
I'll add that to my list.
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
Au-delà des sommets, au-delà des nuages,
Au-delà du ciel bleu plane un jeune oisillon.
De l’espèce des beautés, bavardes et sous pression
Par la grande pluie du temps venue noyer son âge.
Volatile à la houppe, élancé, fort et vif.
Le regard fier et sûr, non il n’est pas craintif.
Son plumage exotique, sa robe noire et grise
Ondulent avec le vent, sinuent avec la brise.
Vivant rien qu’aujourd’hui, la panse bien remplie.
Ne regarde que l’instant, se répète-t-il sans cesse.
Savoure le jour présent, ne pense pas aux caresses
Dont on me couvrirait, pour ça j’ai toute la vie.
Mais n’ayant point agi, et n’ayant point donné,
Oiseau de paradis, devient réalité.
Memento Mori car, on ne peut y échapper,
Le plus beau des oiseaux, se fera dévorer.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
pression and depression
stress and mess
death and dead
lonely and empty
fear and tear
illusion and delusion
me and you...
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 4:28 PM UTC
En la oscuridad claro estoy sola
Única luz que hay son memorias.
Mi cuerpo nomas sabe el frío
En el trinchera nomas hay muerte.
Pero todavía estoy viva
Con mi corazón moviendo lentamente.
La ocean se va y me separa de mis sueños
Dejándome en este cruel mundo.
Cuando quise recordar el pasado
Siento un dolor en mi cabeza que me hace llorar.
No más quiero saber como nadar
Y poder salvarme de estas tinieblas.
Porque se que nadie va venir a sacarme
Me pregunto si realmente alguna vez importé.
Pensamientos suicidas me deja hundir
Tocando el califa al fondo del mar.
Pero no me sofoca la agua
Mi convicción aguante el respiracion.
La superficie del mar esta arriba
Playas afuera de mi alcanzo.
Ni puedo estirar mi manos en esperanza
Se quiebran con el pression de mis errores.
El infierno del mar es el único calor
Abrazando me como un amor perdido.
Calentando me fuertemente
Haciendo me convertir en vidrio.
Pronto el océano me soltara y abandonar
Y criaturas vendrá alrededor de mí a comer.
Lo que me queda de mí se hizo harena
Lla no tengo esperanza a poder regresar al pasado.
© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC