Amputated Poems

Life

#Life
Tour of trials and hostility, in this cave, life capture's my soul, hell prey's for my flesh, indoctrination waits in ambush for my mental GPS. With this God DIY tools, equiped to unearth parth's long consumed by creation and evolution...

from four cardinals of earth, horns of wisdom positions distressed and discareded abilities of mother nature. Waterfall's bearing rebirth, cleansing drained long extinct men conscience...

from under earth plates, smokes with insence, awakening purities long  ingraved in packages of human descendency to life. Hijacked dreams and hopes of child's maps of earth, peals from bondages of captivity and brainwash...

The world, for the first time, wows and collides with rage, for denied and amputated abilities, that earth stole from genesis. Rise of greatness, beyond wisdom and intelligency, degenaration in every hole and pores of earth and men, here and there pillars of change, marking the begining of magnitude.
#Poetic_Ink

This Plague was No Joke

Dr. Moody was discouraged, his job had taken a turn.
This was the third plague that hit Minnesota in twelve years.
People were dying in ditches, seeking relief from their open sores.
Frozen corpses with gaping mouths greeted him from town to town.

Optimism had died about three years back
he had no idea why he survived.
Three plagues, and he was one of the few who was still mobile.
Some were in wheelchairs; others had their limbs amputated.
A few had gone blind; these plagues were unpredictable and fierce.

He stopped in front of the farmhouse; checked the address one more time.
Got out his equipment and began the slow heartfelt climb onto their porch.
Since the plagues had started, he wondered if this was a plea for death call.
“In here,” a woman called. Her voice sounded hoarse.

He walked in and observed three huddled figures on the couch.
“Not them,” she told him.
Confiding that she knew she did not have much time.
She wanted him to raise her children. Dr. Moody was speechless.
He had already opened his home to fourteen homeless children.

This plague was no joke.

Womb on Trial

The world wants a scapegoat with stretch marks.
Wants to pin every broken bone
on a bedtime whisper.
Traces every dagger to cradles
It wants the mother to answer
if the blade was breastfed?
Demands the father to confess
to planting knives in the crib.
Now every crime is a family tree.
Every bruise a genealogy.

The world has amputated memory.
It forgets that even a prophet
couldn’t teach his sons
how to lose without bleeding.
It forgets that even love
can rot in the nest
if the world salts it early.
That envy learns to walk by limping,
that unchecked want becomes wildfire.

So, the world names the scar a prophecy,
and still blames the womb for the war.

Rest In Peace, Mom - Part VIII

It was twelve years ago today when I found you dead.
I knew you had died because you were lying lifeless on that hospital bed.
I bought you a card and a toy easter bunny that were buried with you.
If somebody ever says that you meant nothing to me, it won't be true.
When I prayed for your survival, I decided to beg.
You died after the surgeon amputated your leg.
Even though removing your leg improved your chances of survival, you still died.
When the surgeon operated on you, he couldn't save you even though he tried.
Your life ended and you entered the Pearly Gates 12 years ago today.
Rest in Peace, Mom, I wish I could've stopped you from passing away.


[Dedicated to Agnes Greene-Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away on March 6, 2013]

Grandfather Peace

—Grandfather Peace

his arms struggle to hold on due to amputated hands

The girl I love is gone

#The_girl_I_love_is_gone
she took her whole along, all sense and familiarity that gave clarity to my whole, this absence so devastating, my existence inbalanced, crums of her atmosphere painted my peace and happiness with colourless marks, a traumatic reminder of broken shells which once served as pillar that kept th sane in me

tormenting when now my eyes are only thing that connects our memories, for both hands and abstract link of heart and soul frequencies, she has amputated in me, wishes and hopes my mind murded for they ceased value with her departure
 
feeling which just had to switch lanes and learn to ride solo, that her directioned-creative-smile, which  only her activated, watchd tossed aside by permanent frown and now my soul walks in the far distances and wildest reach just by its self, though it hurts, her part in my tale was meant to last until there,so as her presence and familiarity
#Poetic_Ink

your head will have to be amputated

the infamous tornado mosquito bit Serena and her neck was infected.
The head will have to be amputated, doc said when he inspected.
But how will I see and hear? How will I let my family know I care?
Unsure at this point, but you will die unless we dare…..

We have to amputate the head, or the inspection will spread.
But protested Serena, can people live without their head?
The arms and legs will take over, the doctor quickly said.
Serena’s loud protesting stopped upon amputation of her head.

VORACIOUS APPETITE

VORACIOUS APPETITE

My washing machine ate a sock today.
This time it was a blue one.
Last week, it had a taste for red
And worse, it was a new one.

I’ve read the user’s manual
To make sure I’m doing things right,
But I can’t find any reference
To the wretched thing’s appetite.

I now have a drawer full of odd socks,
I’m completely inundated.
I suppose they might come in handy,
Should I have a leg amputated.

But now I’ve found a solution.
It was obvious I suppose.
I’ve bought a pair of sandals.
You don’t wear socks with those.

Rest In Peace, Mom - Part VII

Wednesday was your least favorite day and you died on a Wednesday.
After living for sixty-four years, you became sick and you passed away.
The eleventh anniversary of your death is on your least favorite day of the week.
I thought things were fine at first but then I learned that your situation was bleak.
When you went to the hospital, you had to go under the knife.
The surgeon tried his very best but he could not save your life.
He operated on your stomach and your leg had to be amputated.
But you still died and when I found you dead, I was devastated.
When I learned you were terminal, it was hard to understand it.
Rest in Peace, Mom, you were the greatest mother on the planet.


[Dedicated to Agnes Johnson (1948-2013) who passed away 11 years ago today on March 6, 2013]

Vampires Wig Idea

Halloween wigmaker had a ghoulish garish way
inventing unique creations that made vampire’s day
how about a new wig made from an amputated head?
In a few hours it would smell bad the wigmaker said.

What if you used doll heads? The vampire suggested.
If you bring me the dolls, so the vampire invested.
People on the street yelled, kicked, gagged and screamed.
It made the Halloween better than anyone had ever dreamed.

Death of a Loved One

Death of a loved one

Fifty-five years! More or less! I did not know, then,
How, to your adieu, o mother, I said Amen;
Later, like the ache of an amputated limb,
Existence, like a gloom-glaring jail cell, grew grim...!

I know, from the frail earthen pitcher of physique,
Your soul, O my mother, that, for long, was homesick;
Had taken its flight far from this interim earth,
And amalgamated into the endless mirth...!

It's not due to doubts about your life eternal,
Nor the chance of being a creature infernal;
Your passing through the gateway of naked newness,
Is as clear as crystal to me, though seems clueless…!

Tingles of your touches tinged into tenderness,
Turned too into touch-me-not of tentativeness;
Your existence in me is a continuum,
It's not a cloudy chemical residuum...!

I know your death is not a dark dusk but a dawn,
Designs of resurrection are dazzlingly drawn;
Ignorance that ignites the minds with illusion,
Fails to form fundamentally free faith fusion...!!!


04 April 2023
Death of a loved one Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Rhymes Checked At: Rhyme Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables

- Darkness of Hell -

the devil's long claws
                                   flames light up the direction -
                                   sins written with blood

                                   amputated souls
                                   hyenas herd with putrid breath -
                                   gulps up sour green bile



                                               26.03.2023
                                       Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
                                  Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Let's Walk

Let’s talk about different ways people walk -
They walk with God
They walk in, they walk out
They walk up, they walk down
They walk too fast, they walk too slow
They walk around
They walk away
They walk on by  
They walk gracefully
They walk the runway
They walk by faith
They walk in deliverance…

Let’s talk about how it sounds when people complain about walking -
I don’t feel like walking
Why we gotta walk?
That’s too far to walk
You always wanna walk
I’m tired of walking
Don’t be walking in front of me
You better watch where you walking
You be walking too fast
Why we gotta walk everywhere?
It’s too hot to be walking
It’s too late to be walking
Don’t walk that way, that’s the long way…

Please stop complaining and be careful of the words you speak, because there are some people who wish they could walk. There are people born with no legs, people who have had their leg amputated, people who suffer with arthritis in their legs and people in wheelchairs who wish they could walk.
Walking supplements your income, so be grateful and don’t take God’s grace for granted. Just saying…

On a Wave of Fantasy

I drank an overdose of ale
The bubbly liquid left me intoxicated
It took me away on a wave of fantasy
I levitated and flew to the galaxies
All my possessions I left behind

It was an exciting nocturnal odyssey
Clouds of myriad patterns brushed past me
In the silence and seclusion of the sky
All I sought was the lovely face of my 'Eurydice'
All I desired was to hold her hand
Could we gyrate in an immortal rhythm
To be forever an Orpheus and Eurydice

I held firm to her hand
Through the dark alleys I raced
Never looking back, even when fear plagued me
I was eager to leave behind the world of the dead
Reaching a safe spot, I looked behind
Where is my 'Eurydice'? Had she disappeared into thin air?
Like a gecko that drops its tail
Her amputated arm shivered in my hand
Or did my hand shiver in hers???


Feb. 15. 2023

~Placed Nineth~

Wave of Fantasy Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose

Silly Things

Silly things often play around
in my head like the amputated leg
of a roast chicken laying
on a plate with gravy, potatoes
and peas suddenly penetrating
my mind with a pang of conscience 
reminding me
that I am about to eat what was,
a few days ago, part of the housing
of a living mystery
that is now unfortunately dead
and no longer has anything silly,
if it ever did,
playing around inside 
its decapitated head.

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