"strangulation" poems
You watch these videos
Of people shouting BLM
Because if your black you are condemned
To them,
Because to them you are not equal
And somehow ****** is legal
But only if your a white cop,
SAY MY NAME
My name is Rayshard Brooks,
I am only 37,
I feel asleep in the cops car,
Resulting in me being restrained and shot because I was believed to be intoxicated,
SAY MY NAME
My Name is Daniel *****
I am 41,
I died in 2020,
I died due to strangulation from cops,
They used their body weight to slam me to the ground and strangle me,
SAY MY NAME
I am George Floyd,
I am 46 years old with a child,
A cop sat on my neck for 8 minutes and I died due to strangulation,
I had a kid and a wife,
SAY THEIR NAMES
Their names and lives are more important than your privilege,
SO speak up and speak loud,
Because you are their voice,
You can be the voice of the unheard,
And the misrepresented.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 10:05 AM UTC
Mouth over mind;
I could have said that better.
I’m sick and I don’t know how to be helped.
I am lonely in a crowded room.
Grasping for something that
simply isn’t there.
The silence is laced with disrespect,
and the disregard leaches my hope.
Articulation like strangulation,
each sentence a new meal
shoved down my throat.
Perhaps that’s where my appetite fled,
full of past statements
out of context.
I need a break that’s not from a bat.
I need compassion that isn’t laced with guilt.
Above all else I need honesty.
Without that all I have is chaos.
I’d ask you to keep me in your mind,
among all the impulsive desires
to self-indulge.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 9:02 AM UTC
my descent into Darkness;
i remember how beautiful It felt.
being swallowed into The Pitiful Abyss
until i was sealed underneath Its surface.
it was pure Bliss.
numbing my emotions,
Its darkness encapsulated my feelings,
keeping them buried out of sight.
falling diving sliding
sinking.
the days grazed into nothingness.
the agony was gone.
It felt wonderful.
there were fires burning above the surface
but no longer were they felt by me,
only others.
It was a beautiful descent.
yet as i slowly began to lose my breath,
Its pain began to to pierce my lungs,
asphyxiating me by means of emotional strangulation.
my unbearable grief fired into my bloodstream,
the effects worse than ****** and without the pleasure.
It's flooding through my veins
as tears endlessly cascaded down my cheeks.
"How did I get here?"
the pain became unavoidable, unbearable.
but how can you become what you already are?
it was then when i realized:
i wasn't sinking into the Abyss,
i was drowning inside of It.
Feb 1, 2022
Feb 1, 2022 at 1:20 AM UTC
The truth flowed out of me
Like a flood
And everything I've ever said
Tainted with the blood
Every shadow brooding
Silently I
Call to the sun
Open my purple eyes
Strangulation
Seared imagination
The child the child the child
Put down the child
Cast away the child
The prodigal son
Was killed by bears
Hounding sidewalks for nickels
The truth shone from my eyes
Half closed
Half asleep
Half adrift
Not alive.
Something deep within has died
Brittle bones and shaky sighs
Rattled breaths and paper hide
Put down the child
Goodbye
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
an unpardonable aberration
in possession of an adrenalized
dynamism of energy
which emerges
like that of the dirt on my face
but cannot hide
the strangulation of my hair
nor the red that fires my fingers
nor the desire or physical location
of my marvellous sexuality
or the ink that bleeds from my nose
when the excitement of creation
reaches its unmonitored theft
of psychophysical ************
of writing upon the page
those elusive words that once written
become an imagined ****** fantasy
blurred but cannot be retained
for the words must be free
free to be the poem, to be themselves
to be ourselves
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
I lay on the ground below
the curved hips of the hills at sunset
The aperture of my eyes, my *** my eyes
and the narrow escape
of mind from body
I am ten again
and they’re calling me falsey
“Big **** No bra!”
Shoving them into the lockers
of Holy Name’s pool
My eyes? Brown. My hair? Brown
My body? Invisible, lean and “Leave me alone!
or I’ll punch your lights out!”
Meanwhile, Mom is mortified
but not cause I’m banned from the stupid pool
All I want— is to run bare to the waist
Ride my bike, maniacal
Be a bird
Swipe ice from the milk truck
Marvel over maggots in garbage
Catch toads, caterpillars, pollywogs in jars
Later, sell lemonade— get rich!
…and pretend…pretend…
till the litany of our names, hollered from the porch
till the street lights come on….
*****
“This is for something you haven’t got yet”
says the matron of the fitting room
Bones in a bathing suit?
What I haven’t got?
or they haven’t got?
will never get—
in their worlds of curtained cubicles
Cause of death:
Strangulation by measuring tape!
*****
In my plaid two-piece
sunburned shoulders, wind-wild hair
By sweat and the afternoon’s imaginings
I built a fortress of sand and stones
to endure forever….
But she— shook the blanket
at the tide’s full reach
Peppered the air with an epoch
Clouds darkening
the wind-torqued sea
Finding my flip-flops, we—
trudged off…
into the changing… changing
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 9:45 PM UTC
Manipulation's
Allegation's
Sanitation
Strangulation
All frustration
Let out
On a
Seventie's delux
Strat.
Putting blues
On the screaming
Map.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
to hate is all we know
it is safety
but what fool mistakes strangulation for affection.
although you have surrendered your icy grip on my heart
in the early hours
cold fingers still pry my eyes open
so you can seep into the edge of my vision
when i dream, you sleep beside me
when I breathe, you are in my lungs
a whisper
a steady rhythm
a constant reminder
to be burdened is all we know
it is safety
but despite that
i exhale
and i let you go
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 6:56 PM UTC
I could hang myself
from the distance
between us.
can't you see
the rope burn
on my neck?
can't you hear
my desperation?
maybe it's not
the strangulation
I'm afraid of,
but instead
the idea
of breathing
without you.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
Like the chef who hates to eat
The playwright who cannot act,
The clothing designer, a nudist,
The brave hero, so shy, a stammerer,
The musician, a deaf mute,
The architect, who live in a tent,
I am a writer who hates to type, for his fingers disconnect his eyes, his brain his insane
I am the father, who knows not his own children,
I am the man who hates to shave, and shaves twice daily,
The man who knows nothing of nature, but writes
in and of it constantly.
The man beset by endless money worries,
Who gives his capital away to charity in increments of thousands,
I am the man that never passes a street beggar,
Even the obvious frauds,
Without giving them a bill, and a god bless you,
I am the man that would gladly die young whose
Mother lived to ninty eight and gene'd up him good,
I don't know what you want from me.
I write to please. But I seem incapable of
Giving, paving streets with words you what u want to hear.
Moon, June, pill, **** me me me be crap on this
I am the chef who cannot cook
The nudist ashamed of his body
The stammered into silence
The mute who screams inside till deaf with frustration
I writer of thin air, the unfair. I know not what
You want of me.
But I weep with frustration at the paucity of my expression,
Good god my final destination not close enough
In the hands of strangers, rejection
In mine own, verbal strangulation
Even
Whatever
Is
Insufficiently
Disdainful
Painful
I cannot give you enough of/if me to satisfy
What is it you want from me
I will write to displease
Why not do
What I do best
Anyway
Secure that this voice
Is lost among the voices
Answering
whatever
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Whether storms are all numbered, counted, and expelled from heaven's manufacture as sensational, furious strands of wind and rain, who can say? As they arrive, however, it is nonetheless clear that they arrive as effects to sets of circumstances.
I sat up straight as an arrow, freshly awakened from a stirring dream of madness as the latest one arrived, watching the black clouds like mighty arms, struggling and arguing against the trees outside my bedroom window. I had been torn by an invisible hand clutching me by the throat, snatching me from the murk of an ephemeral bedroom.
Engulfed in unsatiated fear, powerless to convulse even the tiniest flesh patch or creak a bone, my body was wrapped in only a gray silken **** cloth. As I lay awake, speechless, thunderbolts cracked.
As I was rendered helpless to petrification, I was surrounded by strike after strike, a confounding series of white bolts striking seven times in each place, following a path of concentric circles around my small bed.
I struggled to move, feeling a moving static across my body like jellyfish stings from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, as I felt the cold chill from each bolt setting my face into a freezing strangulation.
I was pulled away. I faded away from the smoking holes surrounding the bed, the sub-zero chill outside and the torturous heat of fear and arrhythmia pumping spews and spurts through my arteries inside, and I was left to wander in my own fantasia as I stared up to the ceiling above me in my real bed, daydreaming of its meaning in epistomological fashion.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
and bowls full
of wilting basil, stewed
until the house was angry
and steamy and sweating
and i was a *****
all alone. i burnt a batch,
and cursed the garden
for its absurd bounty.
what is this? this late-august
harvest of excess. too much
for me to enjoy. but nature,
she has been good this year.
later, i watched a woman push
her cart down the middle
of the road. i could smell
the funk from her moldy jacket
and unwashed hair and the fungus
between her toes. she stared
with her hardened eyes,
like the bitter sun that burned
the tomatoes into exploding clusters
of juice and seeds. her calloused hands
squeezed rotting blankets in her cart,
writhed in some quiet strangulation
of some stranded moment.
i passed by and caught her eye.
we were equals, in blood and in bone,
trapped in some jarring expectation
of destination, in uncertainty
and in hope. she will go back
to her corner to watch the world
drive by, i will go back to my stove
and simmer, waiting for the summer harvest.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
If dreams only come when you fall asleep,
then I am so devoid of hope and starlight that not only am I unable to sleep,
I also can't dream.
If I shut my eyes tight
and un-think the whole day, month, year...
Will it work then?
Then might I be graced with the company of slumber
The sweet kiss of a subconscious memory,
not yet performed
Perhaps
if I stare long enough, into nothing,
my ceiling will, at the exhale of my tired lungs...
dissolve.
To reveal the sky.
That sky, full of wishes-upon, might shed the silvery light I so crave over and through
my eyelids, gently guiding them to a close.
my clenched jaw, releasing tight strangulation of my worries, sorrows.
and over my hands
ankles
stomach
and lips:
the protectors of breath, of sound, parted.
As if to offer a home for a word of love or a vulnerable display for the keeper of sleep.
Rapid heartbeats and twisted spine, no peace or relaxation.
Until, after eternity,
Sleep arrives.
Quite late, unapologetic, without a word but a whisper;
"follow..."
After patiently waiting
in eager longing, with a sore vessel full of warm blood
wanting...
I go.
One final inhalation reaches through to my bones and I...
Give myself to sleep.
At long last the last breath was breathed and I,
I drifted off into a dream.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
The saddest day of my life.
My mud baked excrement died at sea. Bobbing up and down with the style of a cheap ****** I wiped a tear from my eye as I said goodbye.
A part of me felt choked as white streams of bog role acted as the white sheet of a ****** scene.
No police, no forensics.
Strangulation appeared to be the cause resulting in decapitation.
Wouldn't have happened if I didn't use Manipulation to overcome the chronic constipation.
Last time I eat beans on toast.
Now I'm being haunted by a **** shaped ghost!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
I don’t know how to love myself
But maybe I can like myself someday.
Perhaps I’ll find comfort in my own eyes
And not within yours.
I will someday look at my reflection
And be ready to take on the world.
Tell me how to beat this
Whisper your secrets to me, Incubus
Tell me what I'm doing wrong.
Because, despite everything you say and how much it hurts,
I am powerless to resist your song.
You smile at me, with eyes like the earth:
Soft and warm and open.
How do you ensnare me so?
You barely utter a syllable and I am helpless to your siren's call.
Leave me be, Incubus. Let me be free!
For I am caught in your clutches, when this was never meant to be.
Kiss me softly, Incubus--
Touch your lips to my collarbone,
Let me feel your hands upon mine;
Press your body close.
You never wanted this,
No, you never wanted me.
Release me from this prison
Stop my fall by design
You are giving me beautiful strangulation
You suffocate me all of the time.
With your quiet words and beautiful turn of phrase
You know exactly how I am built,
And thus how to make me fall apart.
You are the Sun, the Moon, and my Star--
Your lovely voice could make me weak if properly applied.
You are my Everything, my One,
Everyone else pales to compare.
Stop it now, my dear Incubus!
You grieve me so!
Your words have more power than anyone else
The power to make me soar--or descend into the depths of hell.
Hold me closely, Incubus--
Stop the curtain as it draws near
I beg for release from your sinful words.
You provoke me in the most delectable way
Leaving me with nothing at the end of the day.
Such is torture, misery, suffering--
But in the best possible way.
Someday, perhaps, I shall be free.
With death or some other release--
Perhaps a blue-eyed boy will come along and erase all of the pain you've caused.
My dearest hope, though, is for you to see me as I see you:
Eyes full of love for someone so perfect it hurts.
I won't dwell on this, at least I'll try
For we deserve to try to live, Love--
Else we'll surely die.
Save me now, my Incubus;
Please don't let me succumb to the dark.
You're all I want in life
Anything else would be a cruel joke,
A fallacy,
A lie.
Anything else would make me want to die.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 4:25 AM UTC
Peculiar Spring
Seeps through my skin
Invades my soul
And garrotes me within
Unhurried strangulation
My spirit weakens
A rush of horror
At the sight of the Warden
He's cloaked in death
Speaks with decaying breath
"It's all foredoomed
I'm threading this path"
Limbs frozen stiff
Hasten, flee … if
Death travels swiftly
Radiating a putrid whiff
A nipping hoarfrost
Spring slays those embossed
Come Summer, come
Before I completely exhaust
This peculiar Spring
Its nature - bristling
Beneath a flaccid quiescence
I'm being garroted within
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 4:55 PM UTC
He ****** me off
I hated him to my core
I wanted to **** him and leave behind so much gore
His head for my mantle
His heart for my stew
His soul for my brew.
But I could not
I've fought
He was stronger
My will to live I had no longer
Many attempts
And damage hidden
No I'm not kiddin'
I tried to **** myself
No one noticed
How could they
For them I was just prey
As unnoticeable as grey
But soon I saw
What I had ceased to notice
People cared
To hang out with me people did dare
I had friends
Who didn't want my life to end.
I stopped cutting
And started to smile
I swallowed my bitter bile
My sadness left
Happiness came back
But soon came the counter-attack
Junior High was a *****
Although I never had to get a stitch
Pain and Injury came abound
And my friends left me all around
I wasn't cool
I was a tool
My happiness left
Sadness returned tenfold
Someone came and made my life well...
A LIVING HELL
Back came the failed attempts.
Poisoning, Strangulation, drowning, asphyxiation
And it all swept across my small nation
I never did have a vacation
From my close friends suicidal and Madness
Least of all sadness
But came high school
New friends
An old end
A new beginning
It got better
I never would have thought
That after I stopped and fought my feelings
That people would come back
Friends who shared my interests
Pessimistic
Yeah I still am
But I no longer wanted to be run over by a tram
People cared
That's all that it took
As if it all were from a storybook
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
Don’t pass Go and don’t collect two hundred
Societal standards keep us encumbered
Put these shoes on and try to walk a mile
I’ll be here waiting, disguising my guile
To open your eyes and empathize
To live the life of another
The greatest gift of humanity
Leaves a soul to wonder
When the night falls, when the street lights go out
The curse of the romantic is always the mind
When the wind picks up, screaming its shouts
Contemplating secrets he never thought to find
Beginning to end, end to beginning
Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Playing on words, if the chicken laid the egg
The end to beginning, metaphorically speaking
Rambling on, a generation at a screen
The romantic left wondering at a timeless wonder
Opening your eyes, but closing them to dream
Leaving the rest for the poorest to ponder
Incapable of empathy, desensitized to fear
The literal end is always so near
Listening, watching, a self sentenced pledge
I watch the lemmings step up to the ledge
Sheep to slaughter, minds of fodder
Couples dancing, funerals entrancing
Services held, services dealt
Always wondering, wondering whats felt
Tears appear in the corners of eyes
Nothing left to use for disguise
Nothing but emotion left to bare true witness
The meaningless words of a false forgiveness
When being yourself is creating yourself, what is left to see?
The strangulation of freedom, an oxymoronic irony.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
Seems that ‘entertainment-sake’ started off with ease,
But now the pain is greater and it's hard to contain it.
Whatever need be said here's my attempt to say it,
I hope this doesn't leave me jaded,
Even more so than before, so, here’s the statement.
Like a disease, I maintain a deadly anger,
Just to appease the needs of basically strangers.
And when I can't breathe, they blame me for the strangulation,
And heave heaps of painstaking sensations
Upon me. And all I do is remain complacent, so they
Don't see the side of me I'm containing.
For now I'm safe from the day they find me hanging in the basement.
I need to save myself before it's too late to reclaim it.
I just hope these words are enough to make me complacent.
Embracing all evil things that bring me to the brink of insanity,
I’ll compose the fable, as much as I can purvey it.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
I am merely a poet
a writer
an igniter of fire
the designer of a prior desire to admire the harmonious choir
but quick to tire of contriving liars
as the potential buyers hold strangulation wires
about to lay me in a pile of blood soaked fliers until my life expires
and all this illusionary harmony is alarming me
stalling me in its comedy
they think they're disarming me with talks of peace and prosperity
as i hilariously smash their conspiracy theories
as i am seriously furious when i deliriously remove the sanctity from your sanctuaries
sketching lucid rhymes in obituaries as corrupted school kids watch me curiously
i see your timid hands when you approach me nervously
as i hiss cyphers murderously
while you atrociously fumble satisfactory rhymes
i miraculously summon these mumbling mimes
ducking before the holy and unholy shrines
no god but father time
laying low tumbling dimes
still ducking swine from misdemeanor crimes
making local news and the seattle times
as they run and hide with their nines
im packing verbal calibers of all kinds and splitting minds with my lines
enshrined
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:57 PM UTC
On a special night,
your vocal cords held tight
by my steady thumbs.
White to pink
pink to blood red roses
with cruel black spider stems.
Fair princess pinned
beneath my weight,
god-snap rage
flickering flame
darkness regained.
A restless hateful kiss.
Thorn adorned displeasure.
My love is
your shredded flesh.
Love me like you should,
beauty filled morbid beast.
With honey
from the dragon’s skull
I cover your ******
Let’s attend to death’s
cruel whisper
in the valley of Sheol.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:11 PM UTC
I want to watch your lips turn blue,
paint elegies in your flesh with the
purple pumping of your native mind and
crystalline blue depths of your shattered sight.
I want to feel my love constrict your heart,
see the way my words dance beneath your skin
and the morse messages of ardor, true, displayed
in rigid bumps and sunken eyes.
I want to hear your raspy breaths go short,
constrict your airways with my flames and
steal your oxygen, slowly, how lovely, your
cries sound when you can't sigh my name.
I need to touch your icy soul with my
reaching grasp of molten hate, burn love notes
on your ribs of hollow promises and captive
thoughts I'd held so slightly, tightly, won't let go.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
all of us
from an early age
are murderers
we **** with our
bare hands--
no weapons
no remorse
no gloves
no arrest
no trial
just our hands
strangling out our victims
bringing about their untimely
demise--
and as we
slowly
but
surely
******
we are being
strangled
all in the same
by the hands of those who
supposedly love
and care--
where there is nurture,
there is strangulation about the neck--
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 9:45 AM UTC
the strangulation hummed like a crow
singing its sorrow into the womb of the night
claws wrapped on a thorned branch
disregarding of the pain
for its body has been numbed by its own pain
the noose lowers its insanity into my hands
like a tune humming its own thoughtless melodies
drenching like a dead animal
its ghost stories makes its ways like
lines of anarchy upon my pale skin
glorify the muse of forsaken life
built on the backs of dentured servants
crystallized in a putrid form
I am not here anymore
my skin tears open
and I smile as a drop of blood
falls like a sharp needle from the corner of my mouth
my insides are on the floor
staring at me with children's eyes
crying out bitter shrieks
I am glorifying all the things that are dead within me
and I have forgotten all the beautiful music that I once knew
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 10:27 PM UTC
I was 12 & my sister was 9.
As children with my dad we grew up fine.
Until the day my "mom" kicked him out he lived in his van.
Then she decided to move in a child molestor man.
If we were out with our friends after 5:00 he beat with his belt.
Abuse, fear, & hatred is what we felt.
He disrespected, abused, & ***** us.
He was an infectious disease he did as he pleased.
My sister told her teacher.
The police or paramedic never did reach her.
She died several times.
She is still alive....us he has not returned to find.
I couldn't save her she was 9 & I was 12.
He told me if I tried to save her the same thing would happen to me.
He tied "my brother" to a chair.
With a rag over his face he poured water there.
I think he tied, gagged, & locked "mom" in a closet where she peed herself for I don't know how long.
He said she was at work but her purse was still there so something seemed wrong.
"My sister" he spent hours punishing her by strangulation & recessesiation repeatedly because he is sick.
No body wanted his ****
He strangled & killed the dog next door.
For the next three years or more.
All three of us became his *** slave ******
"Mom" got him a loaded gun even though we were poor.
He would **** on our toothbrushes.
As soon as we fell asleep to **** us to our beds he rushes.
He would spit in our cereal.
It was unbelievable.
Abuse & evil inconceivable.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC