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"stabilizer" poems
Black, beautiful intuitive and strong The matriarch the stabilizer the earth's backbone From the beginning she excels determined to survive In her womb the seed of trillions through the ages she will provide Unfazed by obstacles perpetual is her drive Kings, Queens all royalty alike are inherently in her blood line Against all odds she presses on not a moment does her love wane She looks down through the annals of time and realize she must maintain Her aura of invincibility her spirit of strong will Her disposition of I will succeed regardless of the mountainous hills She is black, bold and beautiful her strength personified from birth She is the matriarch, she is our mother the backbone of the earth
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Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
Black Mothers
I know you hide your thoughts Behind smiles and comforting lies You stare up at the ceiling Your soul transparent through misty eyes I can see your heavy burdens Chaos swirling inside your mind The air is cold with unspoken distance Why can't you see I'm by your side? It's clear that you have issues Tormented by hidden demons But you could self-medicate By establishing human connections Use me! Use me as your mood-stabilizer To substitute underlying manic conditions My kiss, to turn pain into pleasure My body, your security blanket In the depths of misperception You try to convince me you're "okay" Well baby, the things I would do If only that were true But through your bouts of crazy I'll still be here For you
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Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 2:38 PM UTC
In the Depths of Misperception (A tale of mental illness)
Love is a drug. It's a depressant, stimulant & hallucinagen. Love is an anxiolytic & antipsychotic, It's a mood stabilizer & antidepressant. Love is the treatment for my instability. So where is my psycho-pharmacologist? Where's my script for rose-colored glasses? Doesn't he see that I need my Klonopin; My Zoloft is running low. My Haldol is depleted & my Adderal is out. I'm shaking with anxiety My depression's dragging my down To the depths I just escaped. I'm seeing things that shouldn't be. And I'm running in circles, too afraid to stop. Where is my psycho-pharmacologist? Why won't he give me my daily dose, One simple touch to give me sanity?
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Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
Mr. Psycho-pharmacologist, give me a double dose
Her veins have deteriorated Narrowed and not ameliorated With every pungent pulsating pump Her quality of life she does expunge To a beating that is crepuscular And will gain no life from any stabilizer It is bleeding desultory diaphanous crimson Demoted by her own visceral volition Until one day it ceases As the walls to her capillaries deceases Until a cardiologist by a different name Imposes on her grotesque game To replace these decrepit pathways That does mellifluous passion decay Until these capillaries are replaced Through the bypass of an ethereal nature embraced To heal such a slaughtered souls defeats Until a her hearts ephemeral beats Coalesce with the tranquil thundering Of her shamans pulse that dominates over her demons plundering.
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Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
Bypass
When I was young and I did not sleep, my mother told me to count sheep one by one Needless to say it didn't work I still stayed up night after night terrified of what lurked in the dark on the streets Even back then I knew of the monsters who were human: kidnappers, rapists, burglars And as I got older, the doctors handed me pills They told me: it'll make you tired, they'll help with your depression, it's for ADHD, ohh and don't forget your mood stabilizer, that'll make you better! Yet, I spend night after endless night awake until early hours into the morning I am no longer afraid of the kidnappers and rapists or burglars I'm simply afraid of the demons that haunt the darkest spaces inside my mind And so, I do not sleep And I will not dream tonight
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Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 11:47 PM UTC
One more sleepless night
I'm a knock off brand of bipolar. Prescribed with a mood stabilizer. I shouldn't have to take pills to be normal. Pills shouldn't be mixed with pills. Side affects become the problem. I'm a dammed race horse, spooked on a track when I see a stray piece of my own hair. The walls and floor move because of my past addictions. I can make myself sweat by only thinking it's too hot. Protecting strangers just to protect. I could take pills for that, but I'm sitting right here with my side affects. Medication gives different perceptions. Different life's to live, I'll just keep taking my dosage because I will not start over again.
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Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Prescription.
For the lucky, a million chances are granted before their first day sleeps. Unnoticed - mostly unspoken to the screaming, restless, 'just wont settle' infants - they are to be carried on the shoulders of   protectors and handed down as time presents. The chance to grow attached to that first teddy-bear. The one in the attic with just one eye and an off-white coat of the softest fur; It holds all the heat from the nights you nuzzled, before your imagination was clipped; To wear your first little booties and plod your first steps holding fingertips sky high; To run headlong into the edge of a table you could fit under but a day before; To cry with your face scrunched up and your eyes closed, mouth hanging ajar, after falling from your bike; And the chance to be embraced and told it will all be okay by those same protectors, then handed another chance with one less stabilizer. Now let's replace the embrace with a thought - For her; Her protectors couldn't carry her chances. When she awoke and filled her lungs the chances handed down were a cold plastic bag and a chance encounter with a passer by on the Steelstown Road: Her chance at a first day, unnamed. Given half a chance I would give her all of mine.
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 8:47 AM UTC
Given half a chance I would give her all of mine
You are an additcion. I wish I could kick the habit that is you All you do is bring me more pain More suffering For a few hours of dopamine I remember when you were the cure When my chemistry was imbalanced You were my stabilizer Now, all you do is drag me down Because you don't know I'm too ******* hooked to let you go I'm wasting away Everyday I crave you're affection But what's the point? I'm not even in the span of your attention.
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC
My names Wesley, and I'm addicted my Ex
As the mood stabilizer took hold of her, the screen slid into place slowing the flow of tears. The nagging sadness was in the same spot it always was. Sitting somewhere between her heart and her soul. Waiting for the time to stop being released so it can get back to business as usual.
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
Time Released
i take my mood stabilizer with my 3 pm coffee and ask her, politely, to be quiet for the remainder of the day. usually, she does not listen. i hear the pester of hums while i am trying to tie my shoelaces, or while i am trying to wash the sleep out of my hair, or while i am trying to listen to my voicemails. i feel a tap on my shoulder that caresses me in a way that tells me i need to run. i hide beneath the covers. i feel the twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach. if i cannot see her, she cannot see me. i send her up in smoke, i hug myself soundly so that my heartbeat doesn't fall out of my skin. she makes her way into my conversations. she threatens the way my lips part when i kiss. she pries my fingers from his and sends me to my room without dinner. i wake up in a cold sweat and reach for the growing empty space beside me. i am desperate. she tells me i am playing make-believe with my worry. i am desperate. i take my mood stabilizer with my 4 pm coffee and ask her, politely, to be quiet and she does not listen and she does not listen and she does not listen
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Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
hearing aid
Breathe, Please for the sake of your heart. Stop yelling! Stop digging your grave deeper. He wouldn’t hear, even if I spoke louder than his anger. The frustration is building. His fear, his brokenness. A man tortured by an illness A life not lived, a person not changed. From the bottle to the cigarette to the stabilizer Fifteen year chip and he’s still the same A woman helpless to helping him “What did I do she always asks?” As if she is to blame for his outbursts his anger that covers his depression and regret She’s not a victim, she has a family that supports her If she could find the strength after thirty years Married under a church and steeple, for best or for worst Well what about her best? her Worst? What about his decaying health? Someone just walk away Is there anything worth saving? Besides themselves?
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Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 8:43 AM UTC
In Decline