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Today's goal,
all those

another use,
all those

them in
a pen,
consuming energy,



When in large groups
They're audible
But unintelligible
It's soothing
I don't have to be a tentative listener
White noise is somehow calming
CK Baker Jan 2017
I can’t wait
to be a hundred
turning over the thoughts
and plots
of Caledon
on Zimmer inserts
and dusted Florsheims
three steps forward
in a dream woven
summer afternoon

Through the
barn doors
and bee keeper flats
assimilating voices
from Sachems
and Forbes
and Hope Healers
coming and going
as the countryman
and goes

You can feel it
in a place like this
the 3 in the tree memories
from Allis Chalmers
to combine parts
of Sundrim poppers
to shallow carp fields
the patterned lawsons
and fading caulk
(on ripped and rolled
frontier seats)

it’s a wishing well
for the peddler
and bold hydrangea...
both peeking their way
the rusted
grinders wheel
Carter Ginter Sep 2017
Flying high in the clouds
And my body begs for you to touch me
But the second you begin to explore my pale skin
A voice in my head calls out
"You know she's not ok, right?"
"She doesn't want to do this"
"She only feels obligated cause it's what you want"
I disconnect as you ask how I am
I'm not sure how to answer that one
I know my incessant worrying bothers you
But these thoughts are not my own
They're being thrown like knives
Piercing the thin layer of my consciousness
Bleeding until it's bothersome enough to ask you
And you say you're ok
But they say you're lying.
sankavi Apr 2018
sometimes you want to give up
the thoughts fill up your beautiful sunflower soul
you begin to think is it really worth it
you let the voices in
"you're worthless"
"stop trying"
"you're fat"
"you're ****"
the voices begin to chant
you slowly give up
you stop swimming in your pool of thoughts
you drown

but then the water slowly begins to disappear
the voices begin to fade
the demons leave your head
and your sunflower soul becomes whole again
you can do this
Paul Hansford Jul 2016
The gardener
This is my garden; my apple tree
has over-reached itself.  The branches,
weighed down with fruit, threaten to break.
If I had read the signs, thinned out when it was time,
the crop would be less heavy, the fruit less small.
And what there is, is damaged.  If it’s not birds
it’s caterpillar, wasp, or earwig.
It will all be rotten soon.  I don’t know why I bother.

The blackbird
This is my garden; this tree I sat in
and proclaimed my own when it was full of blossom
with war-cry love-call song.
Then mating, nesting, bringing up the brood.
The days were scarcely long enough, but that
was long ago.  My children gone,
there’s time now for myself, time for a treat.
My yellow chisel bill breaks in the flesh
of these fine apples. Delicious. This is the life.

The wasps
This is our garden – insects do not have time
for individuality.  We built the colony, us lads,
chewed wood to make our paper nest, and now
we work to feed the grubs.
“Lads”, that is, using the word loosely – for us
gender is not important; that’s for the queen,
and, as it may be, the ones who service her,
none of our business.
But we need food too,
and if sustenance gives pleasure,
so much the better.  When we find a fruit
where blackbird’s chisel bill has broken in,
we eat our way inside, till only skin and core
encase our private eating/drinking den.
So what if it’s fermenting?  If we get tiddly,
and roll about, and buzz a drunken hum,
then who’s to care?  And if they do, we’ll sting ’em
Inspired by finding a completely hollow apple skin (with the core in place) under a tree in my garden, thoroughly cleaned out by wasps.
Catteleya Fukui Dec 2018
All around me, every day, I see them, lurking
Characters teasing me, praising me, staring at me, smirking
They're there every day, waiting, preying upon me, I'm their target
These characters of mine, I loathe them, they speak to me using an argot

Characters, they won't leave me alone, droning on and on in my head
I can't get rid of them, they'll never leave, each one I hope to shed
These characters most people call "voices," but that doesn't explain much
They hold onto me, suffocating me, they're a huge mental crutch

They're just holding me back, but I can't push them away, I hate it
Characters, I avoid and ignore them, but I share their pain, I'm a hypocrite
I despise them all, each and every one, I need them gone
These characters, these "voices," they're a "phenomenon."

Characters, such a repetitive topic, repetition is so boring
I hope I can keep this up a little longer, my abilities restoring
These characters limit the things I can do, I have a lock
I don't know how to express it, I might go into shock

I hope one day they'll leave me for good, they're such a pain
Characters I see, in the darkest puddles, and in each and every drop of rain
I can't ever get rid of them, they're here with me for life
These characters of mine will be with me, even in my afterlife
September Roses May 2018
Once we were on fire
Young    rebeliouse   free
We stormed the castles and took to the skies we flew we dreamed
We were ablaze our light setting raging screaming fire to the world around us
When our thoughts could not sit in silence any longer
When the kids were engulfed by a wave of fury of the injustice done by this world before we were even here
We screamed and demanded
But now it rains
Now the cold heavy water blankets the restless
The fire has been drenched in worry and stress
The brutal downpour has distracted all with false life or death
The blaze once 100 feet high now nothing but a charred soul

And all the ones put out by the rain
to tired to fight again,
pray on the generation next
That their fire is enough to best the storm
She sits rather still, stitching her loom
shackled and bound to the whispering room
While the walls shutter speeches
she slouches then reaches,
her stitching resumed.

Threads of silk pool in spools
cast to the floor
Hushing the voices
as they pour

the voices repeat their crippling phrase
dancing the space
bound to their maze
Not sure. I've been editing it for awhile and I give up.
gabrielle Jan 3
step out of them voices -
voices that judge,
voices that drags down,
voices that mocks,
voices that rings and muddles in your head.

step out of your voice -
your voice that stings negativity,
your voice that shouts the fact that you don't love me.
Connor Feb 2018
The voices say that I'm a no one,
don't listen to them, your fate's being woven

The voices say that I should give up,
Why don't you tell them there's been a mixup?

They keep telling me my death will come soon,
don't say that, you sound like a loon

They say I can't deal with all of this strife
Perhaps, but that's no reason to end your life!

Their voices are louder, I fear I can't win
You were given Life, to end it would be a sin

Cut by a razor, my blood on the floor,
stop right there, don't open that Door!

Water so pure, now turning red,
it is your soul the voices were being fed.

Visible to me is Heaven's Gate!
Come back now, before its too late!

Angelic voices fill my ears,
I'm sorry you couldn't face your fears.
The pattern is A,B,A,B. The first line of each stanza is one perspective, the person hearing voices, and the second line is the person trying to help them.  I started this poem a while ago and never finished it til now, so please enjoy!
Zenlcaudell May 23
Mind ****
Tell me I’m your number one baby
Tell me why you want me to be your baby
Mental **** astral projection
You said you would make it real
Love will make you do shameful things
Love surely is for the weak
I’m weak and powerless for you now
Dexter plans his attack on the next sinner
I long for what I can never have
If only you knew I was truly bad
Saw me in half for that magic trick
I want your sinful touch
I want to feel your evil lust
Bodies against bodies
Paranoia paranormal anomalies
Drown me in your insanity
Finger my hypocrisy
I want to make your disturbing fantasies a reality
Burning desire sinful rage
Ravaged soul
I’ve seen better days
Lust is lust
I guess I must
Let go of what I cannot trust
I just really wanted to feel love
I guess that is why I long for touch
You made me feel alive not real
Realness isn’t defined by this linear life anyways
I miss you is what I’m trying to say....
Jaxey Oct 2018
The only difference between sound and silence
Is that one is real and one is in your head
I always have a hard time figuring out which one is which
Are you a ******?
John K Trainer May 2014
I Walk through the lonely ancient woods
And hear the voices from the Cedars of Lebanon
Whispering a truth known to all
But remembered by few

A felled branch reveals the wound
That smells of comfort and wisdom
Your knots are like the eyes of God
Scrutinizing my every intentions

I feel at ease as I rest in your strong arms
And think --
If I had a choice for a final resting place
It would be under your majestic feet
You are so loud
Even when I'm alone it feels like there's a crowd
You make a silent room fill with sound
You are so loud

But I listen to you
I feed into your words I believe are true
You hold me back so much, I know you do
But I still listen to you

You call me names
And anything I do ill stick out like a sore thumb
You keep me silent and numb
I have so much to say but you just take it all and run
Take a ****
talking to the dog.
Wandering around in circles
muttering to myself.
Looking for this book
that recipe.

An old 60s song comes on
I bop about the room to the music.
Petting the dog I look at the book
and wonder why I've got it at all.
Sometimes all the voices in my head
can do is sigh.
Memphis Jun 2018
I hear in
Your voice
The hum of
A busy bustling bumble bee but
More like
Salty seaweed sandy ocean spray
Loves her
Fairy boy
As my options are clear
;to take flight or to fear
I question myself,
"Why am I still here?"
Shedding my final tear
the voices inside me lure
I couldn't shut what i hear
And so i let it swallow me whole
down that deep black hole,
I'll go
my first written poem
c Aug 2018
Distract me
from all things worldly

Drug me
Compliment me, say I'm worthy

Make me believe this is
just a video game to reset

Spare me, i don't wanna hear anymore
Ariel Nov 2018
I don’t let anyone know what I’m really thinking
The whispers in my head are only for me
They say things that I’d rather not admit
They hurt me in more than one way.

The whispers are cruel and soft
They chip away at my self-esteem
They voice all of my concerns, they tear me apart by the seams
But no one can know, not anyone at all
You’d probably put me in a straight jacket
For the things they say to me.

They understand me like only I could
They know everything behind what I do
They sound like me—
But the things they say? I wish I didn’t agree.
They’re so intrinsically me.
I despise them, but I know they’re right.

“I’m unloved.”
“No one thinks I’m attractive. I disappear among all of the others in the room.”
“They don’t really like me.”
”I’m so stupid, my friends don’t care for me as much as I do for them.”

If only I could transfer a tiny percent of my love for my friends to myself,
I think I would be fine.
I wish I didn’t hate myself
But it’s such a thin line
In a way, I’m a blade runner
In that I walk the edge of my sanity on a day to day basis.

I wish I didn’t listen to the whispers.
I wish everyone knew I’m not fine.
But I don’t want your sympathy, no, not that.
I just want you to understand.
The whispers at night when I’m all alone
The voices that tell me I should just be a rotting pile of bones
All I want is to silence them,
But to do that, I would have to cease existing.

I’m tired of wanting to die
I’m tired of these endless whispers telling me I’m not enough
I’m tired of the girl that sounds like me
I just want to feel happy for once in my life
I’m tired of pretending to be fine when I’m not
I just want to be.
Sean M O'Kane Nov 2018
When great aunt Maggie passed away years ago, the one thing I really missed was her angelic voice.
The swaggering, sing-song lilt of the mid-Derry accent was as sweet as the confections she used to pass out to us as kids:
The inflection, the intonation, and the slight lisp she brought to it was so gloriously unique but was never heard again.
I often wish I could go back with a tape recorder to capture it in all its glory and relive how wonderful she was.
Now all I have is a untranslatable memory that can't be brought back to even vaguely approximate what it meant to me.

And now here I am again with the same obstacle.
The same tones, the same inflections albeit through a different light have just been extinguished before me.
This time there was no digital device rushing in to capture our time before it ran out.
No instinct for preservation was forthcoming - we were too busy having fun & 'being here now'.
No, once again I am bereft:
All I I have is here (in my heart) and and here (in my head)
The loved sounds I miss will always resound there albeit without backup
Voices lost but not forgotten.
Leiser Poetry Mar 24
Cant bear to hear the voices;
dragging me down;
feeling the failure!
Voices mock me                                 make me frown
nothing ever goes right:
want to keep on                                   with the fight,
be strong                                             move on                            
with my life
there is something
that stops me when I
find happiness negativity                   cuts me like a fine knife  
anxiety makes me feel on edge;
paranoia makes me question
and sabotage everything
depression lowers me
to the point where I
feel lack of energy
or empathy any more
If anything I want                                   to sleep in bed                                       not feel this dread
I use to medicate
myself with beer
and pain relief
taking any medicines
I can get to feel no pain
To feel no shame                                   for the anxiety         
to go away
but it never went
only made me forget                             the symptoms
the mania I get                                       feel a hint of happy
chemical but later irritated
over ****** and frustrated,
the world is moving too slow
Im obsessed and sometimes
delusional: the demons are smiling  
they've won the battle but not the war when they took over my mind; for a short while but since sophie was born
and my life almost thrown away
at the age 28 I decided to give life another go and work hard to live an cleaner life the best I can                 smile more even when Im low be grateful I'm still alive and here
want to feel I have a bright future
now with a baby and boyfriend that  loves and understands me its hard sometimes when you can feel the bad memories resurface, negative vibes in my mind hit me like a bullet or cut me like a knife want to keep telling them not today that I will not fall to their darkness and decay that they can't beat me and that I'm no longer a failure but a fighter still here to tell her tale;
despite all the *******
and people grinding me down
over the years; bringing me to tears
I tell myself each day that
I'm a fighter and I'm still here.
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