Best Affliction Poems
The sun had grown dark on that fearful day
When Rabshakah, the Assyrian entered the fray;
Their armor and weapons glittered like gold
As they surged ’cross the plains to storm Israel’s fold.
But Hezekiah the king sought the Lord in prayer
To beseech God Almighty, His mercy to share;
The Lord would respond, then gave His command
To smite the Assyrian and deliver the land.
The Assyrian hordes were filled with flawed pride
Their faith in false gods, their treacherous guide;
They mounted their horses to charge for the gain
In their lust for the power that would end in pain
For the angel of death smote Sennacherib’s camp
And the fires of war were put out like a lamp;
The fields of green grass were transformed to a flood
That flowed on the ground as rivers of blood.
The legions lay dead with their eyes opened wide
And the host of their horses lay dead at their side;
The wind stole their cry from the pride of their breath
And gave its revenge in the silence of death.
The sons and the wives in their sorrow now weep
For the sickle of death had a harvest to reap;
The battle was won by the grace of the Lord
Who humbles the proud with the truth of His Word.
Isaiah 36 and 37
AFFLICTION?
It is said of young physicians when they first set out to learn
All the symptoms and conditions that known illnesses convey
They perceive these indications each one causing more concern
‘Til they make the diagnosis to their shock and their dismay
They arrive at the conviction
They themselves have the affliction
Now when learned academics write a thesis that proclaims
All white people are infected with a racism endemic
Filled with symptom and with signs supporting dogma that defames
Fragile folk are then persuaded by this plausible polemic
And arrive at the conviction
We’re all guilty of affliction
What could be more direful to survival of this blessed sphere
Than wild nature, once benign, by human feckless acts betrayed!
“See the wild fires, melting icebergs and the hurricanes!”- we hear
Computer forecasts yet sole factors we can truly call ‘man made’
Should we therefore have conviction
Of a terminal affliction?
Data now in a profusion never seen before these times
Flood our eyes and ears and minds in ‘monu-mental’ mind-bate range
Those with focussed strong agenda choose a menu that defines
And steers us, if undiscerning and from reason then estranged
To unquestioning conviction
THAT in truth would be affliction
The feeling of a mind in a constant rotation
Regardless, the effect is a sensation
Erratic thoughts and a foggy haze
Trapped within an infernal maze
At a balance to fully exist
I’m an emotional masochist
My addictions will cause me to drown
Tip-toe between being heaven or hell bound
It’s easier to cease the pain with a pill
A quick way out- Maybe I will
It’s the ease of mind that I crave
To my addictions I am a slave
For they know I enjoy the pleasure
I keep them because only them I treasure
I fear no troubles for they are with me
They open my eyes for me to see
The fact of knowing I am sick
The realization I’m ok with it
Corona has...
conquered
hearts of
people.
And
those,
with
pessi-
mistic
thoughts are
gonna conceal...
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
their While, people
Parts with opti- mistic
With thoughts are gonna
Gloves move around
and with self-assurance,
Masks faith and
to per- hope to
form regain
their their lock-
tasks. down loss.
2-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Disclaimer: Read continuously as C-19
(start with C,move on to 1 and then 9).
Drippy
by
samnesia.com
“He’s kept himself together”
“That boy’s kept himself in line”, they said.
But I can’t keep hurting myself
and say that I am happy.
There’s a leakage in here, somewhere
The echoes are too loud
and they make me drippy.
The inside is too damp
The leakage won’t stop dripping.
So, please do not mind me,
I’m only dying in here.
And spending New Years eve drunk off my ass
has gotten old quickly.
“He seems rather kind”
But I’m still unhappy.
The leakage will burst, someday
and I’ll be floating on a lake where I’ll die alone.
The inside will collapse
and I might not come out, alive.
I kneel my knees to please the Above
Dying to eat every word from the hope
Went to the prominent land with great gurus
Sitting on the hot seat, listening to them
Time came for judgement holding the swords of my fear
First battle got victory but it wasn't remain long
Tears suddenly rolled down not because of failures
But for the companions stood better to receive the crown
In the dark sited with a small light of candle
Regrets with gigantic question, "what did I do wrong?"
The unending question covered the beating heart
Marked the loneliness to face the bright shine
Under the humiliation around the eyes
Expected that it would I overcome!
Turning my head towards the abstruse gem
Gives brilliant views and bogus fate!
My life,
tried in the fire,
heated up seven times,
returns again to God refined
as gold.
There's an assumption that torment
was invented by Dante for his Inferno,
it's actually a kind of obsession that
we ourselves battle with like Othello!
Some of us show it in laughter, others
in anger: which one do you act upon?
I like the ones who jump up and down,
thinking they are performing clowns!
Torment is also the need to get one's attention,
how frustrating it is when all fails expectation!
It's another form of calamity worsening things...
and spinning in a whirlwind, we break in tears!
Another form of torment was my relentless envy
towards others wealthier than me, but not happy;
and not being rich, I couldn't brag about anything...
even luck deserted me, my world was collapsing!
I've stopped tormenting myself about my material needs
by obliterating insanity, apologizing and making amends;
I saw a diverse image of myself in a mirror of stark reality,
realizing that fate didn't depend on stars, it was absurdity!
I've been stabbing myself for years,
and causing these forlorn tears.
Wounds that will never heal
because of the weapon I wield.
Not a blade, but with my eyes,
from reading the bitter cries
of the angry words he wrote,
ones he used to cruelly smote.
I curse myself for this self-inflicted pain!
What is there for me to gain
by remembering the past?
How long will this self-torture last?
Until I throw away the letters
that keep me shackled in fetters
or until I tear out my own eyes,
the orbs I've come to despise.
If only I could be so bold
and break the evil demon's hold
I'd be free to live my life
without reason for sorrow or strife.
But I suffer from an affliction
from which I seek no benediction.
From my self-inflicted form of grief,
I seek no cure and no relief.
Why do I punish myself this way?
Is it guilt because I didn't stay?
No! That would be a lie
I know he's the one who didn't try
to break free of his obsession
and rid us both of the deep depression.
My wounds will continue bleeding
for I know I will keep on reading.
+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+
January 22nd, 2016
Self-Inflicted Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
I set out to write a poem
For Leighann’s Affliction contest
My ADD was in full force but
I was full of promise and zest
So I wrote a couple of lines
Then noticed the grimy floor
Polished the dusty mantle
Gawked at the hot guy next door
I sat back down to write
To focus and stay on task
O Wait…that new soap opera
And my cucumber face mask
Then I read the contest rules
AFTER I wrote these lines
It was supposed to be free verse
And my oversight shines!
Since I failed to follow directions
I say with true conviction
If I do not place in this contest….
I’ll blame it on my affliction
*Though I made light of it in this poem, Attention Deficient Disorder (commonly known as ADD or ADHD) is a serious disorder, but treatment is available. Treatment (for you or your children) is not something to be feared-it changed my life!!!
-AFFLICTION-
My poverty drove a Ferrari
My monkey rode a horse
Bad luck was hitch-hiking
Overtaken by a Porschè
Slamdunk my face with dishes in the sink
Screamed so loud at nothing pulling faces in the dark
Walking with a white cane
Talking with The White Man
Unseen, unheard, so I did not have to think
Obscene, blackbird ,singing like a lark
Broken semi quaver
Swimming in the river
Reasoning with know-alls
Confusion is an eight ball
What youre not going tell the man
Is the something you can not say
Plastic horses returning on a rotating carousel
My transgressions stay in rehab
My anger burns in hell
Bland stupidity clings to me
O hear that urgent summons!
Tolling in the valley
Such a sacrificial bell
Autumn sneaks early into September
With cloudy days and cooler temp,
A feeling of fall in the morning air
Arthritis is back, causing me to limp.
Thank goodness for dear ol’ Ben Gay
With his sweet smell of peppermint,
He helps me make it through the day
By applying his soothing, minty scent.
The pain is real, the ache depresses
With stiffness that won’t go away,
We all have those minor distresses
Unfortunately, Arthritis plans to stay!
Written September 10, 2022
Alone.... in a small boat... on a vast ocean
With her one hand, she holds the rope to a kite
The other, she holds the chain to an anchor
Desperately she has a tight grip on both
Trying to keep the kite from pulling her up
way up, too high up beyond reality
and the anchor from pulling her down, way down
way down deep, to the bottom of the ocean
A balancing act to keep herself afloat
Afloat... in a small boat...on a vast ocean
The darkness of light
impossible to see
the pain and the lies
always damaging
you reach and get burned
not understanding
this is my disease
nature of the beast
Suddenly my light
is taken away
my darkness was revealed
taking me as slave
when all I ever wanted
was for someone to say
please stop, for me
or enter an early grave
Now face to face
with all of my demons
how can I fight them
if I don't want to beat them
until the reason
arrives, then I shine
a little at first
but that small thing, is mine
The den of ten thieves
come up with a plan
a whole set of new lies
that every single man
cannot resist believing
it's seeming to be
that a horrific ending
is just what I need
Then all of the sudden
my small shine
swallows time
and with that virtue
my face comes to life
I would never hurt you
please, know this to be
yet no one believes me
this curse grows like a tree
I hate my helpless fate
why can't I make
a new life for me
that no one can take
why can't I escape
a prison not for me
for years I accept this
tired sense of defeat
The small shine
barely intact, inside
until Saint Anger
starts to burn me, alive
I find I'm set off
by my wrong, senseless self
until I am talking
to no one, in Hell
So I pick up my pen
power to create
a new world for me
where I design my escape
in my invisible state
the Devil don't notice
that one of his children
is no longer hopeless
I stop all my madness
by power of pen
for years my sword
drew nothing but sin
the yin and the yang
both helped me to find
that I'm no longer afflicted
when darkness lights
my bright shine.
Pulsating tendrils of terror
Weave themselves through my brain,
Around my heart. Squeezing.
Strangling logic.
Peace shattered by panic's explosion.
My hands, slick with sweat,
Tremble violently. My stomach
Twists itself into knots. My heart
Is a run away train.
God help me! I'm going to die!
Over and over and over like a
Recurring nightmare, I am thrown
Into the maelstrom of irrational fear.
A gun to your head kind of fear.
A nightmare I can't wake up from.
Sanity is waning --
Must. Get. Help!
Anxiety Panic Disorder, they call it.
A chemical imbalance of the brain, they call it.
I call it hell.
12/14/2011
Kim Merryman
(Thank God, I did receive medical attention and have been on medication for 22 years. I rarely have an attack now.)
Entered in PD's "May the Best Descriptive Poem Win..." contest