"untreated" poems
What is love?
I think it's a virus
infecting so many people
and yet so many are immune.
Left untreated it can lead to a broken heart.
What is love?
We act like it no longer means anything
but we feel it
for friends, family, pets or that special someone,
arguments cause us pain
it can hurt more than we thought, a broken heart
WHAT IS LOVE?
I THINK IT'S A VIRUS
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:47 PM UTC
His eyes penetrate the mirror,
And the glass penetrates him back.
Tears rain down his cheeks,
And his semblance undergoes a crack.
His head hits the pillow,
His eyelashes flutter along to dreams.
Mother watches with weepy eyes,
Then sunlight through the window beams.
His heart flutters like a leaf in a breeze,
Excited by the man before his eyes.
For years he has struggled
With this affection he was taught to despise.
Even as his heart tells him what to do,
The boy continues to hide his truth.
It seems there is much to lose,
It seems a way to ruin his youth.
But the secret ails him—
A condition untreated.
Without exploration,
His heart remains defeated.
Destruction clasps onto him, an iron grip,
And his demons come alive.
He begins to hate himself,
Struggling to survive.
Hatred finds him during his adolescence—
Like a deadly blade wishing him dead.
To survive, he learns a simple truth—
His beliefs must be shed.
Now a cloak of happiness hangs from his shoulders—
His boyfriend is in his arms.
He has parted with society’s silly notions,
Of which only dealt him harm.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
Love me so deeply it hurts
I want raw love,
Love that festers like an open wound
if left untreated
Crave me like a smoker
who can't quit their bad habits
I'll be your nicotine
If you keep coming back for more
Touch me like I'm the masterpiece
of the art museum
They tell you not to touch
but you can't resist
Experience me like a joy ride
a rare kind of high
Let our love kindle like a flame
don't let it blow out
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 3:57 PM UTC
Quite admirable , awe-inspiring , a divine piece of manufacture
It’s capriciousness is an equivalent of swooning of rapture
This carpet conveys itself as flawless , the fragrance is pleasant
The glossy finish generates a yearning to have it present
The blissful texture is mesmerizing , subject to perfect knitting
Not to mention it’s size is perfectly fitting
~
Though the alternative side seems worn and tattered
And the fabric surrounding is scattered
There are pockets and splits
There are strewed fiber bits
Along the edges are multicolored spots
And the yarn had formed knots
~
At that point the onlooker would become flustered helplessly
Were they to take it into their tenancy ?
Sure it was depleted
And maybe it was slightly untreated
Though it was equally handsome
Despite it’s opposing filthy expansion
~
Then the beholder would ponder a tad
And realize the flaws weren't so bad
They were to be contemplated abnormally
Though as well stood out morbidly
The allotment seemed now suitable
And each side was mutable
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
American
Whiteness
the greatest mental illness of all time
even before they were diagnosed
the world has become safer
because the world finally
has funded a wall around America
a padded room institution
where the dissociative disorder
can destroy itself
and not everyone else in the process
the casual crisis
is an emergency
whiteness the coup d’état
is wreaking havoc
on the human soul
domesticated whiteness
riskiest to do business with
spilling blood all around the world
quarantine the biohazard
whiteness on its journey of impunity
when my family was most vulnerable
to the morbid lust
of the mental illness of whiteness
we gently genocidally refer to as social construction
which is really the deconstruction
of the black human
and the origins of humanity
American
American built by the pieces of my family
glued and mortared by the blood and sweat
spilled from them
the most dangerous deconstruction site
in the world
biological warfare
spewing
leaking
uncontrollably
contaminating humanity
polluting its evolution
at war with symbiosis
for the purity of fascism sake
a coup d’état called American whiteness
which is also been a long
untreated dissociative disorder
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
The Dragon's Egg
To understand my addiction
You have to know the
Back-story.
I was born in the dead of
Winter. Wednesday's child...
Full of woe. I was a preemie.
Mom fell on her stomach while
On a chair trying to change a
Lightbulb. As unpreposessing
A child as ever was born...
I won't go into my childhood
Difficulties too much, as they
Might prompt your judgment
Upon my parents. They were
Not really at fault. They did
The best they could based
Upon their childhoods and
Limitations....
Mom was sick.
A great deal. The victim of
Horrific migraine headaches
And an undiagnosed (therefore
Untreated) bi-polar condition.
She had aspirations of being an
Actor. She really should never
Have had three children. She
Simply couldn't handle it. I was
Born only 16 months after her
Firstborn, my sister Chris. This
Definitely didn't help matters.
Then, because my little brother
Mark was born just as her
Acting career took off, she had
Much less time for my sister
And I. She had a newborn, a
Career, a husband and
Postpartum depression. Chris
And I (and eventually Mark)
Were neglected. Not really
Mom's fault. It was what
It was...
Dad was a complex man.
A hot-tempered stoic. A hard
Worker who hated manual
Labor. A war hero who also
Became a runner (he would
Become a severe
Alcoholic - an addiction he
eventually overcame).
A generous miser.
A cultured plebian.
A spiritually minded atheist.
I don't blame him. But the
Last dichotomy was our
Downfall. We were
disallowed from church. Went
To an atheist Sunday School.
We learned about all the world
Religions save Christianity.
Or maybe I missed THAT lesson.
But as a result I had no real
Moral compass to live by. My
Parents tried to teach us
Ethical behavior, but because
Jesus and the Holy Spirit weren't
A part of the equation it was
Doomed to failure. One can't
Simply be "moral" or "ethical".
Without Jesus, we are all
Rank sinners. Sorry if this
Offends some of you. But it's
TRUE. Jesus paid the price.
Only faith in Him can make
A person right with the Father.
All else is vanity. My father
Spent his lifetime trying to be
A "good" man. He tried to
Be a "good" husband. A "good"
Father. But his efforts
Always stymied by lack
Of the essential puzzle piece....
JESUS.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
Just pray harder, Nita....
I have been on edge and triggered all day long…actually all week now…there are a variety of reasons…and the mere fact that it is almost the weekend tends to steer me toward the ’bad place’ – and I am falling quickly into the darkness tonight.
There’s no comfort tonight, other than in a bottle of wine and a pill box full of ativan...the therapist would tell me, “Nita, there is no reason to be scared. Find your safe place. Listen to your grandmother’s soothing voice.” Nothing to fear? Are you serious? And the safe place comment always cracks me up! Do you really think there was any place ‘safe’ to go then? Where the hell would I find safety in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom, filthy trailer? There was NOsafe place. There was no place to hide! Except inside my head.
I should pray about it. That’s what my very religious grandmother would tell me. ”Just ‘pray harder’ Nita.” God answers prayers. Just pray harder, Nita…pray harder. My grandmother was very religious and very private. Don’t ever air your ***** laundry to anyone, well, with the exception of God. Pray harder Nita…pray harder…
Why didn’t God every answer MY prayers?
Why is that?
Because I wasn't "good enough"?
Because I didn't pray LOUD enough?
Because I didn’t pray HARD enough?
Because no one cared!!!!!!
That's why!
No one really cares now either…throw it all in a container, spray some holy water on it, drop to your knees and PRAY.
DON'T you dare tell me that my fear isn't 'real'. Don't you dare tell me that you ‘care’! No one does! And it doesn't matter anyway - no one can accept the 'unacceptable' - apparently not even GOD!
My grandmother was loving...yes, she rocked me, she sang to me when I was sick - she spent every night with me when I was in the hospital repeatedly for recurring kidney infections... because kids that get f@#ked tend to develop recurring UTIs which left untreated lead to bladder infections which then lead kidney infections. She was THERE! But she NEVER asked me! EVER! No one did!
But I guarantee you she fell to her knees every single night and PRAYED for her f@#ked up alcoholic son and her ******* up grandkids.
Just pray harder, Nita. Just pray harder!
Yeah - I should get down on my knees RIGHT NOW! And PRAY For f@#king RELIEF!
If I'm still breathing tomorrow you'll know HE heard me!
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
I need balance
I’m too extreme like my beliefs
Far too sorry to apologize
Forgiveness would be a lie I couldn’t live with
Balancing under pressure became a crushing defeat
Misfires and misdirection can land the highest man beneath
Untreated wounds breed infection
The lessons learned are easy to remember
Dismembered and off-kilter
Unbalanced drunkards lay wasted like death
Effigies of what used to be
**** it¨ attitudes
Added to the frustration
Of falling and failing, my fault
I brought shook hands
Like an addict
Moderation is balance
My mode is moody
****** off and impatient
I meditated to medicate anger
¨Endangered species fighting for survival!¨
Was the greatest lie I ever told
I fought a war for peace
More violent than buddha’s
And I won
I won a deadly victory
Balance was not built for chaos
I’m a riot, raunchy
What I want no longer haunts me
I’m not a victim of crime
Im the victor
Missteps led me away from destruction
My mistakes were made
To save me
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
An irrational animal gets high
From the ravenous pump of its own tongue,
Nursing wounds of a disease untreated.
His fat meat skulks through marbled corridors
Around eyes that assign value to worth,
Fixated on transactions to be paid.
The ring and flash of victory courses
Through his silken veins and opens his mouth
To swallow the pride of the defeated
Reflection in a puddle of his own
Drool, clinging shakily from toothless dogs,
Addicted to the peak and crash of trade.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
what is needed.......?
AND WHO SHALL EVER KNOW?
hidden feelings
in the alley-images the
returning soldiers face the true
nature of the abomination called amerikka
homeless and untreated!
hidden peoples
we
are the mothers and fathers
sisters and brothers
of every human in the world
AS IF WE DONT KNOW!
let us a tell the truest story
revealing
the naked horror
of the beast
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 10:07 AM UTC
It leaves on a midnight search and seizure
to rehab in Arapahoe, Wyoming.
It leaves with grimy charcoal high top Converse
and a distasteful orange hunter-green flannel.
Bloodshot eyed and strung out on residual
******* hidden in the inner brims of his precious nose,
It leaves fingers torn from the doorframe and without
saying a word to her for years.
It arrives a forgotten promise
clean-sobered with a rough pair of brimstone arms
and scarlett-feathered lips.
It arrives gently holding a wooden ring
dark carved in detox and an “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Apologizing thumbs nip tightly down the hem of her hips,
It arrives delicious and inviting like the scent of
fresh pasta on a hot alabaster plate.
It leaves, again,
high and full-bellied satisfied with the final use
of an old habit.
It leaves without a word of those whispered childhood
embraces on young October nights.
Leather jacket in hand and Oxford shoes out the door,
It leaves — between the scent of
laundried cotton and lavender sage candles —
It leaves
carrying in its dark pockets all her untreated, distasteful addictions too.
September 22, 2014 // 7:04 AM
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
We are human
Walking traumas
Left untreated
Open wounds
Being leeched
To treat
The wrong fever
It is incongruous
Being inoculated
Against the wrong disease
Vaccinated with apathy
So we don’t feel
The sores that bleed
But you have to laugh
We are mortal
Not merely men
Nor women
More like
All the things
Around and in-between
Searching
Sub-consciously
For peace
Trying to sustain ourselves
While losing
Everyone else
Crying
But you have to laugh
We are little boxes of flesh
Lego people made to fit together
Chipped
Scratched
Lost and found
Each stress tearing at our flesh
Rending our skin
Like a thresher
Building internal and external pressure
Till we need release
****** and or emotional
But you have to laugh
Ready to cry
Sometimes
We are ready to die
Till the brain twitches
Till the broken switches
Leave you in stiches
And you see something strange
Irony or absurdity
Life twisted in its purity
On the verge of exploding
Not really knowing
But something hits
Something fits
Presses the right button
Slapstick
Stupidity
Intellectual curiosity
Sanity flipped on its heels
But you have to laugh
A chortle a choking gasp
The tension breaks
The air whooshes past
You have no control
You have to laugh
The world doesn’t change
Much
The feelings are still there
But with each laugh
It gets easier to bare
It’s a chemical reaction
With endorphins and stuff
But I don’t think you care
It’s just what you needed
To fight off the despair
So I say it again you have to laugh
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
Out walking in the sub-zero cold
Nose hairs sticking together
**** frost visible on fences
Cheeks, feeling like untreated leather
Snow, crunching, underfoot
Eyes, watering as the wind whips
Ripping my tears from my eyes
And stealing feeling from my fingertips
Twenty minutes and I am numb
My thighs are tight and burning
Wind is howling like a banshee
Hitting full force, so I am learning
My ears are on fire beneath my toque
No snow though, too cold to form
Can't wait to get back home
And let the burning finish before I warm
Through it all, without a care
My dog is leading me around
I'm fully covered, and still I hurt
He's leaving gifts upon the ground
His pads must be frozen
His muzzle is a frozen mask
Finding the perfect spot for one last ***
Seems to be his only task
....all I can say is "I'm freezing, and this ****** owes me!!!"
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:26 PM UTC
Scraggly,
In face and heart
Staggering
By the harbor,
A celebratory place
For families to flock
And sight-see the city
By the ships and the docks.
While the sea gulls fight
Over scrimpy scraps,
A lone man traverses,
Seized by mind traps.
Disoriented by the shadows
Of his past,
Taunting and tampering
With his freedom, at last,
He's broken his vow of silence
He promised he could pass.
Reality so far removed
From his ruminations.
Passerby's passively wonder
What attracted him to the concrete.
Overactive imagination
Is an answer I'd repeat.
Occasionally another may marvel,
Where is his family?
Waiting in vain,
In the background,
In the rain,
Devoid of way to entertain
The possibility to take the reigns
Away from his deceptive beast
That guides his woeful way,
Fighting for fistfuls of his feast -
A price he has to pay
For having an untreated illness.
Now I have no say
In pillows or cement.
He chose the latter.
Now all I can do is feel lament.
If you see my father,
You may see kindness in his eyes,
A mind that's rapidly firing,
Comforting words to himself he's ironing.
If you see my father -
You may see him time and again,
You may see him in the sea gull,
Harmlessly scavenging,
Heartily conversing,
Heartbreakingly existing -
If you see my father,
Let him exist
However he chooses.
I have no choice
But to do the same.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 11:18 PM UTC
You always ask me
what I'm thinking of
and I must admit
if you knew my
true thoughts
you will never see
me the same again.
Constantly I am
thinking about
how I could
possibly feel
beautiful at night
when I eat anything
during the day.
I can't tell you this
because you might
worry for me.
You would say
I am beautiful always.
While this helps
it feels as though
you are putting
a band-aid on
a cavernous wound.
One that was small
many years ago,
but recently was infected,
left untreated and
ignored because of
how ugly it is to me.
I am embarrassed
that I love you more
then I love myself.
So I won't reveal
what I'm truly thinking
to you ever.
Instead I smile,
blush even,
and say I cannot
stop thinking of you.
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 10:23 AM UTC
oh
the seasons have changed again
ten shades darker and climbing
they forgot who I was
who I am
gaining momentum
the whiteness that used to insist
that I am white
is confused
now they are leaning towards
not letting me be white anymore
till next season all over again
but this is the season of darkness
I can see it in their eyes
hear it in their voices
mostly being black in America
has been the epitome
of non violent resistance
in the season of darkness
non violent coping mechanisms
to a violent abuser
an abuser
called law
called psychology
called whiteness
called economy
untreated domestic abuse
whiteness calls honors history
dissociating from the repair work
that the American family must face
ever since I was a little
itsy-bitsy - innocent boy
the thought
the imagination
of being able to take out
a militia of whiteness
with my body alone
if and when they get as worse as they are
always prepared for the worst of whiteness
no matter what you say
cannot fool me
can I be more violent?
better at it
so I can sleep for a little while
dreams like some of the white kids
except lucid
In the season of darkness
I can prove it all wrong
the whiteness
its story
the companies it keeps
I can breathe a whole new world out
and breathe in clarity
in the season of darkness
my afros
my mohawks
mean something different
suddenly
my worth
is being threatened with an officer’s gun
peacefully letting handcuffs on
violently beaten afterward
hand over mouth
face in the cement
should out of socket
sciatic nerve damage forever
put in a cell
for the trauma
to reverberate
and echo
back into itself
in the season of darkness
whiteness was overwhelmed
without fear
domino affected
occupied whiteness
brought it down to its knees
that one percent of whiteness
is enough to get us all killed
America
in the season of darkness
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:42 PM UTC
I do not stand alone,
Thinking that in this world,
There is something unknown.
Unknown is the reason for greed,
For wealth and harboring, A ******
A sickness untreated to allow innocence to bleed.
Unknown is the reason for racism,
Spoken slanders and propaganda's,
Media's misguided music to masses for totalitarianism.
Unknown is the need to be accepted,
A collection of emotions to be displayed,
Not being ourselves - The worst, portrayed.
I need not know a lot for I know this,
That love overcomes all and ties us together,
In an intercontinental consciousness.
I know this because walls have been brought down,
Children play where none were once found,
People still rejoice in helping, healing and sound.
I need not know a lot because this, I have found.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
you cut me off...
like a ****** does their blood supply...just give me a hit
like a rock climber does to an unnecessary weight
like a cell phone signal going through a tunnel...this provider sucks...can you hear me now?
like a chef does to the unwanted edge of an onion...no one eats this **** lol
like an ADHD child hyped on sugar does to their surrounding others
like the zoo does to animals from their native habitat
like a **** would a family from their loved ones
like a barber would to a hippie asking for a fresh fade...hold on let me just take some acid, forget to shower and protest against human rights...right on man
like a serial killer from their emotions
like a surgeon would to an untreated tumor harnessing a body part
like a TV station does to a failed pilot no one laughs at....HAHAHA not funnnyy...hilariouuuss
you cut me off....but i don't know if i can let go.
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 3:30 PM UTC
The old man is in the wilderness,
His children never borne.
His parents torn.
He lives alone.
And he likes it so.
No one to tell him what to do.
No government to bore him too.
No lost or love...
Little effort, and much fun.
Yet still for this man,
There feels a hole,
Something inescapable,
Yet not quite describable,
Somewhere within him,
Something is missing.
Lacking a vocabulary,
He finds himself lacking.
So he carries on his day
Chopping wood for winter,
Eating fish for dinner,
Beating his dog for pleasure,
And sleeping for leisure,
He lives a simple life,
One away from danger.
A hatchet for protection,
And a musket for intervention.
But slowly the hole grew.
Until it weighted more than he did.
Bigger and stronger than he,
Eating him from inside.
Yet he was a stubborn man,
And he would rather die,
Then ask for help.
Or a neighborly "Hi,"
So his illness went untreated,
And his loneliness grew.
He beat his dog more,
and ate a little less.
Cried at night,
And knew naught why.
Like a black hole it consumed,
Everything it could see,
That hole slowly grew,
From out his heart it bleeds.
One Day,
Their was nothing left.
Just the hole,
In the guise of man.
It did not move,
And it did not breathe.
The dog had already went away...
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 9:29 PM UTC
A l o n e
Nothing other than utter bliss
As my eyelids begin to passionately kiss
My count of sheep depletes as my imagination grows
My mind starts to open as my eyes begin to close
Slowly welcoming the air to it’s royal chambers in my lungs
With a handful of dreams within grasp even without opposable thumbs
I become N U M B
Thoughts ricochet around in my head
Until they land upon old wounds left untreated & now infected
Visions of the past present a possible future
Unparallel to those predicted by life's various tutors
Contemplating
Waiting
Waiting
Then I find myself-
soaring high with complete balance
Steering this craft with faith beside acting as my ballast
Leaping from safety and falling towards uncertainty
Diving into a sea full of clarity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~v~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And so goes the plunge
I submerge
Pondering deep beyond previously set limits
Never once resurfacing
Drowning in yet to be deciphered waves
Thus ending the reign of the once realist schemer
Replaced by the newly appointed lucid dreamer
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
It's way too hot
Call 911
Write out a ticket
To the sun
I may have died
Can someone check?
I need a beverage
Past my neck
I'm breathing in
Somebody's sweat
I'd pat your back
But it looks wet
My last brain cell
Has over-heated
I might combust
If left untreated
I needed that vent
No pun intended
Let's hope this summer’s
Not extended
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC
The truth's often miss worded
Proof's too easily distorted
While trust gets quickly depleted
Then misery must be begrudgingly greeted
Good is historically related
To every bit of evil it created
As inner battles get heated
Dangerous thoughts are left untreated
Inner voices can't be silenced,
Only ever quieted
Insecurities refuse to be defeated
After hope has permanently retreated
Alone,
And on your own
Until the cycle is repeated
©2024
Sep 6, 2024
Sep 6, 2024 at 3:05 PM UTC
Denials fears receipts
Lies betrayals deceits
Expectations loss resentments
Perception destruction commitments
Adoration longing craving
Yielding accepting braving
Politics labor expense
Logic confusion dispense
Care concern keenness
New life new world seamless
Divinity concealment hate
Regret trust late
Forgiving losing retake
Patience understanding heartbreak
Dealing retracing abiding
Life God residing
Emotions thoughts dissent
Judgments wisdom repent
Memories traces slaughter
Heart soul fodder
Empathy retraction deafness
Body mind breathless
Oxygen air amiss
Blood veins remiss
Promises sensations overlook
Death sadness overtook
Redemption reprisal regret
Untreated unlearned unmet
Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
UNANSWERED
How strange it was to see her there
After so much suffering. Her dying marriage
A bleeding and untreated smear,
Disguising a love neither would salvage.
The music played, the guests danced
With savage partners whose love retreated and advanced.
His awkward lover lingers quietly in the room
By turn shade, shadow, and silhouette,
She sways slowly to each repeated tune
Too triumphantly passionate to experience regret.
Mistress and wife exchange no glance, assuming ignorance
Of each other’s uncomfortable presence.
The loss of another’s love can wound
More brutally than the lover’s death
The secession of an intimate bond
Becomes a winding, coagulating mess.
When lovers connect they forget
What broke when they met.
A slow guitar riff makes her weep.
She takes my hand. She calls me friend.
I smile, with thoughts of my own to keep,
My own unanswered love to tend.
I kindly wipe away her tears,
But not my own. Those I’ve kept for years.
Beautiful songs, erratically played,
He glances towards her, smiles and leaves,
She turns away, both destroyed and dismayed,
Stands silently in the septic light and grieves.
I take her hand, but she pulls quickly away
I offer her a drink. She declines and will not stay.
I buy another whisky at the bar, tossing it down.
In a cruelly dissipating cloud, her fresh perfume lingers
Mimicking her constant image. My phone rings and I frown.
My forgiving wife is calling. With guilt and regret, my fingers
Tighten around the glass. I say: “Honey, I’ll be home soon.”
And, like others, leave the signifying gloom.
Touched by the sharp morning light
Half-empty glasses, abandoned halls,
Breaking out from the hasty coition of the night
Love radiates, caresses, falls.
When ubiquitous lovers combine it highlights briefly
How lonely it leaves those who grasp at love weakly.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 3:42 PM UTC