"stabilised" poems
The love of my life runs through my veins
It can't be a lie that makes me feel safe
All the jewels of emotions come into the phrase
Neutralizing stabilised thoughts for a place
Concluding I hope to get my precious gains
The Brain and Heart are my soul locators
Giving me purpose to live and aware
Following into happiness of my favorite sphere
Inside the self loving treatment of geared individuals
I dig into my thoughts of shallow waters
Growling into the fact of curious matter
I am no more the master to my beloved grandeur
I lost hope into the Truth of love for my serious self desire.
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 6:57 AM UTC
There are inmates in outpatients
and
patients in side wards with ingrowing
toenails,
Doctors who mumble
old people who stumble
apple crumble at lunchtime
a woodbine for the smoking room
which doubles as a lead lined tomb
for when the X-ray's run wild.
He has no compunction in
diagnosing dysfunction
I wonder who died and made this
man a God.
When they do an autopsy and
cut bits off of me
I think that It'll shock them
when
they see Blackpool Rock
printed right through me.
I return to the inmates
who've been discharged
from a cannon,
I feel like a man on
a mission
which is wholly unlikely.
The Doctor's tread lightly now
inject me twice nightly now
how I wish I was back
in the outpatients
but
I have patience,
I'll wait,
an unstable inmate
tranquilised and
stabilised.
a hamster on a wheel.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
I hope you know that love is never still,
It can go downhill.
It can be blooming with flowers but the next thing you know; thunder and lightning is already striking.
I'm afraid that you'll be surprised,
For love is never stabilised.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
We came in through the undergrowth
To a patch of blasted trees,
Then checked the radiation that
Had brought earth to its knees,
The skyscrapers were gaunt and tall
They rose like a cankered cell,
Of shattered forms, all overgrown
With a **** spawned straight from hell.
Then Roach said that we should wait awhile,
Make sure it had stabilised,
We’d seen what happened to men before
When they glowed, before our eyes,
But that had been thirty years before,
When men had made mistakes,
We’d not seen a man since we began
Living on rats and snakes.
I vaguely recalled the woman thing
That had held me in her arms,
Who cooed and cried when the lightning died
And the bells shrieked in alarm,
But we hadn’t seen a woman thing
For years, for they all died out,
It was something to do with ovaries
And things we don’t know about.
We’d met as a pair of ragamuffins
Roaming over the plains,
Hiding under a hollow tree
To avoid the acid rains,
Our skin was scarred, and our life was hard
But we managed to survive,
And now, as far as we knew we were
The only men alive.
I knew she’d read from the Bible for
That was a woman thing,
She taught me plenty of words back then
And showed me scribbling,
So I read fragments to Roach who said
He’d had something called a sis,
I had a piece of a Bible, torn
That was just called Genesis.
We smiled at the thought of a world that was
Quite empty, just as now,
But set in a fabulous garden with
A God, we’d find somehow,
And in there was the name of a man
My woman thing gave to me,
And while he slept, the God man kept
A rib, and he called it Eve.
The city that lay before us may
Have well been Babylon,
But silent now and deserted with
Its ancient people gone,
We wandered into its cluttered streets
And we saw the things of men,
All scaled with rust and a loss of trust
It would never come again.
It was there that we found a woman thing
Who was scarred, and scared as well,
For she’d never seen a man before
And thought that we’d come from hell,
She sat, backed into a corner,
And begging us both to leave,
But I said I was known as Adam, so
She must have been known as Eve.
And then that night, we had a fight
I committed a mortal sin,
I killed my friend as he went to bend
Over the woman thing,
And God roared out with his thunder,
I would always be to blame,
And then decreed in my hour of need
I would call my first son Cain.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC