"recoveries" poems
i'm tired
i'm so ******* tired.
i didn't ask for any of it-
not the scars, not the pills,
not the anxiety
or obsession
or disordered thoughts
i never wanted this.
because when you're thirteen
you don't think that within the next three years
you'll have four mental illnesses.
nobody ever predicts that they'll have a collection of cuts,
of failed recoveries
and subsequent relapses.
nobody wants to be a burden.
nobody wants to be trapped in their own mind
and i can't tell if it's depression,
or the eating disorder
but God, i'm exhausted.
i don't want to carry this anymore.
(i never did.)
Oct 6, 2020
Oct 6, 2020 at 1:46 AM UTC
God please don't **** me before i find Your flaws...
Life nowadays is full of men who are either corrupt or unacquainted with any laws...
You created us all after Your own image but each time i look into the mirror i see a blood-thirsty devil.
I've seen too much blood shed and You stand still
God please no more empty reveries.
This world needs more recoveries
Religons are made for vultures
I see nothing but promises in my future
God we need no prophecies
Your divine presence is highest infinity
I am a soul-eater by Your Holy creeks
Damned,but i know my good greed
Endlessness in heaven is acceptable.
But mortality is the greatest gift here on earth as our days are getting more destructible.
You catch our every tear and capture our every prayer.
Before You we bow,with our innocent endearing.
Blinded by obedience and unstateable feelings.
They are not close to heaven...nor are we to Hell
The 'dark matter',our very hearts,under Your holy spell
God,Thou art one paradox before men and angels
Remain a mystery,an enigma,a divine angler
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 9:35 AM UTC
His fingers grew cold and stiff in the cradle of my own
Last breath rattled, marker of death
Innocence violently stripped away
Shell left, a hollow reflection
Those pieces lay in defeated slumber
For months the clouds gathered
Rain, soft and chilling
Lulled quiet the rage, tears fell
A violent gush coming dangerously close to flooding
All of the hidden cavities that remained
Until one day the sky opened
Hesitant rays like bird's first flight
Shimmered down with angelic serenity
Bringing warmth once again
My eyes squinted to adjust
Recoveries healing hand
Had finally reached out to sooth
The wounds remain, puckered, ragged edged
I will carry them like badges of honor
For you were worth fighting for
Your laughter still echo's
Plastering the walls of the hole you left behind
With saturated, hopeful colors
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
*A Mother's Day Poem for the GREATEST Mom out there!!*
Through all the childhood scares and nightmares,
Through the screams of terror and cries of fright,
Through checking the room for things that go bump in the night,
Through squeezing your hand so very, very tight;
Through all the sicknesses and sores, bruises and scrapes galore,
Through staying up all night being sick,
Through week after week of shots to keep me tick,
Through those days staying home with me instead of work you did pick;
Through all the games and parties, the laughs so hearty,
Through the days and nights at amusement parks,
Through all our journeys and adventures we did embark,
Through family time here and there, making a mark;
Through all the times you have been there, even when I erred,
Through the dances and concerts, parties and sleepovers,
Through surgeries and recoveries, chocolate and jokers,
Through all the memories abundant like clovers;
Through all the childhood scares and nightmares,
Through all the sicknesses and sores, bruises and scrapes galore,
Through all the games and parties, the laughs so hearty,
Through all the times you have been there, even when I erred;
Through all the terrors,
Through all the pain,
Through all the fun,
Through all the love;
Through anything and everything
You have always been my mother.
Through all we will go through in this life together
You will always be my mother.
Happy Mother's Day!
I love you!
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
Heartbreaks
turn
heartaches
into
written poetries
And
recoveries
set ablaze
those
old
paper sheets
Oh!
the things
that
love can do;
create
pyromaniacs
and
air pollution,
too.
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 6:46 AM UTC
The other day you turned your head
And looked at me
Nostalgia clouds my memory
The recoveries I've conjured are
Pointless, as I find you
I remembered your meter
I remembered your lines
As cut and sculpted as I recollect
Your control is spectacular
Teach me what you know
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 12:04 PM UTC
You won’t find me in an innocent laugh
or in some greying beard’s wise words.
You won’t find me on recoveries roads
or in the gay songs of morning’s birds.
No, you won’t find me in the bluest sea
or on the hills that pucker to kiss the skies.
I’ll never be in true love’s fiery throws ,
or in some sweet and un-jaded eyes.
I’ll be here, in the heap of ****
On the drunk drivers tongue, in the junkies spit.
In beauty broken by unseen hands,
in the plane that crashes as it lands.
In the crippling fear of the abused,
and in the power that the abuser used.
I’ll be here, in the heap of ****
I’ll be here, for I am all of it.
I am weak, and I am so resolutely.
I am power corrupted absolutely.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
tiny dots on an endless timeline
tiny periods on the end of every thought
tiny shells on an endless beach
tiny ***** in the pants of poultry polititions
tiny whispers of love, hope, death, and desperation
{tiny track marks
tiny recoveries}
In this magnificently grand, large, endless, regenerating. Infinite. Universe.
Tiny specks of stars on an endless timeline
Hey!
Man.
Admire the demeanor in which she glances towards you.
Are you going to go in for the win?
Or just keep grinning with a mouth full.
Smiles smelling of slightly soured chagrin
Swim
Swimming
SWIM
swimming
swim
Away from the failure that is the past
Future flies at full mast
Sink
Sinking
SINK
sinking
sink
WHY keep thinking while the tide rises
amidst the neck
around the deck
Will the swell swallow the pride
will you ride on to a watery grave, Let's GO
bravely see the hollow humblest life
leading to an unmarked burial at sea
Demons force a fold. Be real.
Allow the Angels to show you how to feel
Asia-Europe-America
All feels the same
Catch-22 the sad part of this game is you can change your name
But
Good luck out-running your brain
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
I am dying.
As the sun above settles in,
And the warmth of what should have been,
Plagues my aching, tangled form,
Tries to drag me, lifeless, home.
I am dying.
Like how we share this thing,
A lust, a necessity, this ring,
Wedding both our divine depravity,
Interwoven with mindless insanity.
I am dying.
Born to raze countries,
Or died to watch recoveries,
Authenticity is the soul,
Of all unmistakable “evil”.
I am dying.
We only know what we feel,
Only stand where we kneel,
And on our crippled knees,
We cover graves with the breeze.
I am dying.
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
The end of the daze
Awaits
The heart of face
Buried alive in his grave
The other side of the fence
Begs for green
As death begets
The man
Through the armor
Of a Father husband
Gone and lost
In the cost of it
The cause
She was
The wrongest lips
The kiss of death
Will end the days
Of the minds myth
The heart of face
Beaten to a pulp
Under a chamber
Where bullets take
It all away
The end of daze
Awaits
The calendar of fate
Everything love made
Dies on the day
Earth claims
Dust to the dust
He came
And purpose
Will lay instead
Of the forever
they vowed to make
The good times
Share the memories
In the sublime
Aftermath of tendencies
A sacrifice paves the way
To recoveries
A smoking gun
Leaves the hand of the lamb
And now theres peace
The end of days
Has come to save
Everything from
All the pain
It reaps
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 5:51 PM UTC
Orange and pink hues of sunset
are nowhere...rain pours
trees are talking, leaves are fighting
the violent wind...the shutting of doors
and windows startle...and disturb
no more candle lights on the altar...prayers
have been said, tinged with whispers and
hushed giggles...the tingling of china and
silverware float in the air...the radio is off,
no more worrisome news.....what's left is,
a soothing feeling....the cool wind
makes the curtains dance...a sweet
silence breathes outside my room...both feet are
flexing...relaxing on the bed....waiting for
midnight...to end another virus-stamped day,
the rainy dark comes with a sacred stillness,
we're not over the woods, yet...but, it would be
nice to hear about less, and more: a decline
in cases, a flat curve...a rise in recoveries...a cure,
a vaccine would disable the claws of the
evil virus......meanwhile, we keep the faith,
as we wait...and look forward
to
better days.
>-<
tomorrow is another day.
>-<
Sally
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020
May 15, 2020 at 8:57 AM UTC
*what a challenging occupation
this infinite being presides over our frustrated creativity
i see women dreaming like symphonies
serendipitous discoveries
individual recoveries from addiction to imprisonment
symbols surround our mountains
and draw us down from the ethers into present day realities
i choose to face the fire of the architect directly
stardust collects on your shelves and altars
stall as long as you wish
for procrastination can not touch this
who found infinity first
to brag about it would be laughable
i question our obsession with thoughts
why we validate some and consider others repulsive
can there be value in individual concepts or only in conglomerations
chains of misnomers
all skandas are fundamentally empty
including form, feelings,
perceptions, formations and consciousness
earth water fire air ether
manifesting maya
a satire or a tragedy
with a sprinkle of ire or is it irony
i canʼt recall since i had that fall
my memory has been slipping
but truly today my brain is working perfectly
it feels brand new and polished like an old table
what a refreshing feeling
that existence is cheering for you
pushing you forward
towards your destiny
all you have to do is let go
and accept support and love
its all naturally wonderful
and yet we wonder about our value
if we are not struggling we forget to give thanks
if we are not puzzled we forget that we are amazing
staying put long enough to get organized
helps if you want to remove the clutter from your mind
yet traveling can help you to broaden your horizons
oh and by the way
i may have forgot to mention
that i signed you up for the total package*
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 12:26 AM UTC
I got a mechanism
Called coping
demons knocking
In the head
Slaughtered by alcohol
All alone
Suffering’s inevitable
This should be the note
In case someone asks
But for all I care
No one should
I am the way
The truth and the temp files
You can always empty
If it’s worth the while
Random access memories
Trying to be fun
Better of recoveries
Secondary free will sun
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 11:07 AM UTC
***I know you hate it when
you have to dress up in those fancy clothes
and parade around like an orangutan
why don’t you let it all go
and embrace your own mortality
in all regards this is just a dress rehearsal
so let yourself have fun
one option is to become hard
another is to soften
and learn to dance with the unexpected
simplicity is welcomed
all is in it’s perfect state of unfolding
i am shown my own reflection
even when the mirror distorts the image
i produce another image within my own perception
i am the creator of what i perceive
yet on all accounts the senses seem to disagree
and we are left wondering what is truly real
i steal time like you steal kisses
our hearts dance while our minds listen
for voices calling softly to our shadows
and lightning offers itself in chiaroscuro
the drama continues
i sense the new day is dawning
Venus is retrograde and I am returning
to my old stomping grounds
the elephant graveyards are covered with carpets
we laugh and roll around on the floor
our short endeavor turns into a whole day affair
did you snare me with your golden sparkles
i see your hair like feathers on an ostrich
those streaks of white
make the snow look dark by comparison
all our faiths are the same
one family embracing this entire planet
our mother calls us home
and we return
street lights blare and turn the world orange
i am fortunate to choose my own melody
sadness drifts like a river through the night’s journey onward
forget your identity and merge with the trees along the shoreline
who is the gatekeeper
the one who decides what is appropriate
i wish to meet her face and see her eyes
what a challenging occupation it must be
this infinite being presides over our frustrated creativity
i see women dreaming like symphonies
making serendipitous discoveries
individual recoveries from addiction to imprisonment
symbols surround our mountains and draw us down
from the ethers into present day reality
i choose to face the fire of the architect
stardust collects on your shelves and altars
stall as long as you wish
for procrastination can never touch this***
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 10:31 PM UTC