Best Autonomy Poems
Caged up in the brain’s shackles of lust and lies
Rags of despair disillusion and utter reformed thoughts hang
Puddles of thick perverse actions gather and stain crimson
For he is a mirage of false hope cascading over your senses
Then final reiteration of the branded instant’s ultimate sound.
There is nothing here anymore, he said
As the dirty glass jars fill up with rain
Drop full by drop full
Against diluted ambivalence
turned gray
Wetting both of our tongues
Soaking dark clothing into heavy burdens
So much like myself, I fear
I’m going to break everything open, I reply
Take these shards
String them up into the trees
Offerings of little elements
As they chime softly
Deep
Deep in the evergreens
There is nothing here anymore, I say
Nothing more, but my tangle of dreams
And the light
Which breaks open reflections
One hundred times larger
Than what I can ever be
Either Done in Autonomy
A lobotomy
Or a craniotomy
Which is best for me?
I am beginning to believe
for each and every politician
so it seems now a days.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
no cell phone service
in most of the universe
may make you nervous
original sin
where building of guilt begins
doubts start to creep in
autonomy should
not require lobotomy
only common sense
factoring our roles
finding poverty of soul
digs very deep holes
claim open season
for attacks upon reason
let's untruth sneak in
based on pure meanness
or simple inconvenience
words come between us
a haiku a day
may chase the doldrums away
no bills will they pay
Meandering paths through the forest of voices
We all hunt the Fox, the fox of truth and of choices.
Let loose the hounds that lose the scent.
The foul fishy flash that keeps their nose bent.
Sell your head scratching questions to buy the cheap thrill
From the glossy silver lips of the letters on the hill.
The grand distraction of planned attraction
Gets a bland reaction 'till they force down the pill.
Count on the fact the books make us bored.
“Is it time for the signal from Greenwich?”
This just in...your minds been twined with a flaxen cord.
Keep your eyes on the chest, leave the treasure ignored.
The gluttonous fat man with round swirly eyes
Circles through the channels as he shoves in the fries.
Ignorance is only the fault of the one.
He never opened a page or his mind ‘fore he dies.
The man on the horse knows his time is soon spent.
The dogs and the fish have open resent.
Cunning and silence keeps the fox so majestic.
The pray of the fish is to keep doG domestic.
They come into my room every night.
And make sure I’m asleep.
But also alive.
I'm no longer convinced that they have my best interests in mind.
I had finally woken up.
I try calling my family.
The phones are dead once again.
And everyone starts panicking for a moment.
I try calling to my family.
As if they can hear.
They start taking me away again.
Into another room.
That is like all the others.
They steal my ambition.
Which they take as frustration.
Take me back, mom.
Before I lose my memory of you.
And you lose your faith in me.
How will the robots remember us?
I’d like to think they’ll write poems in some
Style they develop for themselves, contrive
To move their electron-shifting hearts,
Inheriting our passions good and bad,
The joys and bitter miseries that they
In their birth and evolution never
Thought or ever dreamed we had.
I am, for the most part, most scared to speak.
Not because I don't necessarily have anything to say,
My mouth, alongside the virility of my brain, just seem to like putting me in reticence
But even in the fortunate instance that my mind doesn't wander into insanity at the thought,
I would still seal my mouth with golden chains
I would let the raining consequences rust it more shut
Spoken so, one would think such strong speech flew just out of a god
But for very antonymous reasons, I decide to favor most and keep the unfathomable out of doom's way
Those reasons come back to one simple yet deadly proclamation
TRUTH
We'd think a civilization that's fought so hard to be globally accepted, respected
One that holds itself on such a high pedestal, you'd be condemned to an endless fall if one jumped
One that claims autonomy over every single living and non-living creatures alike
Would be open to TRUTH
To date, the ones who've foolishly let their intelligence get the best of them
The ones who, amidst idiotic and ignorant surroundings they had to endure,
Decided to venture into the world of TRUTH
Were shoot off the pedestal so quick one would've mistaken it for a god
And then they fell and fell and fell and fell so deeply some lived through their last breath, falling
And at last, all the unlucky ones got through to TRUTH.
It was another world, maybe infinitely larger, ethereally brutal, and hauntingly peaceful
Instead of oceans, this world materialized into one main thing: REALIZATION
Realizations like the fact that my brain is just protective
Realizations that my identity has reeked through mud so many times
Realization that it wasn't just mistaking it for god but that this god is the mistake
Because the truth is that this god never sacrifices
He wrecks havoc till everything offers oblation
Truths like these that would put some on chokehold
But I won't waste good air, getting to a point where the only thing I incite is murderous rage.
Realization that for most, it looks just like that—a void to be fallen into, a place to quickly pull away from a single
glance down
I’m not sure where I belong anymore, or if I’m even meant to belong. I spend my days trying to live in the moment and continue living for the ones around me despite my want to leave this place. I’m not sure how long I will last- my mind can’t help but think about how nice it would be to allow myself to close my eyes for the rest of eternity, put myself into an eternal sleep. I’m lost; my mind is scattered and is unable to see the fulfilment of my life no matter how hard I try. I want to be happy and I want to be free- free from the burden that is my upbringing, my mental disorders, my very existence; and start anew. If I were to remake myself then how would I go about it? This is a question I’ve been asking myself often as I walk around like a corpse in silence. I was manipulated to be so stuck in my ways since my birth, and have no clue how to go about being any other way. I want to be happy and I want to be free, I want to leave this cage and spread the wings that I have lost feeling of many years ago- being trapped in this consistent, sporadic way of living has caused me to lose sight of how amazing I truly am. I don’t know anyone that is me, does the things I do, feels the things I do, thinks the way I do; and still has the will to continue to live with so much passion that can overtake my exhaustion. I am tired of this life, but I don’t know if there is any other one I know I would want- the only answer I have for such a question is that I want to be happy for once, loved for centuries, appreciated by many. No one knows how hard it is to try and fit in a life that is supposed to yours, but isn’t. I want to stretch my wings and feel the warmth of the sun gently caress my feathers once more, I want to have a life that is my own; but, my life was never mine to begin with.
If
"I" remains in
A story..in an
Autonomous role
Autonomy would seem
To retain a hold in
Imagination
As the story unfolds
In this way...
Is to be pushed to the brink of psychosis
And to then be labelled mentally unstable
It is to ask for help and be met with the door
Then when we worsen they blame us for waiting too long
As if we didn't come when the wound was fresh
Not when it becomes a scar
Our pain silenced
But our mortality rates speak volumes
We enter a hospital to heal
But leave with more trauma
The hospital bed burdened with the weight of our tears fallen
For us being heard is a concept so foreign
The neglect a black woman faces is something too common
It's like a haunted house
Where every ghost
Is a black woman's scream for help
Where every jumpscare is our decline in health
Their hate outweighs their oath
To protect, to help, to heal
They'd rather us have a slow painful death
Then change their racist mindsets
Despite the contributions that black people have given to medical science
We are still treated like an issue
A pain in the back you can't get rid of
Which is quite ironic
When those who refuse us
Wouldn't be here without us
And everything we have sacrificed
And the lack of bodily autonomy
The violence to our bodies
And not one single 'thank you"
Just excuses of why they can't help you
How our pain is a non issue
I did not understand what this word meant.
Why was it important?
I read the definition “self-directing freedom, especially moral independence”
A word that had meaning but carried no weight.
No never meant no. It meant a laugh, a sneer or worse was completely ignored.
Rights were something given to those who “deserved” them.
White men who somehow just by nature of pigmentation and gender could take what they wanted and do whatever harm they pleased.
Autonomy was for the chosen ones I thought.
A word made up for others.
My life completely changed not long ago. A hard fought struggle for something I didn’t think existed. I looked and saw it there with me. “self-directing freedom, especially moral independence”
I didn’t recognize it at first.
Then it came to me. Autonomy. :)
Consent.
Break it and your punished
Usually,
That's how the story goes
That's the way it's supposed to go
The hippocratic oath.
Ethics. Principles. Confidentiality.
A promise. A vow. A pledge
Beyond race
Beyond gender
Beyond sexuality
An oath against inequality
That's how it is to be taken
That how its supposed to be took
But what if?
What if those blinded by power decide to change the rules?
To abuse their privilege with different tools
An excuse used - for the greater good?
Or naybe it's just a clinical way to own black people
Henrietta Lacks.
A woman. A human. A black person.
Hidden by a history of white erasure
The story of her life hidden in invisible ink
They didn't see her as anything other than a toy to play with
As a body to experiment with
It wasn't that she was silenced
It was more that she went unheard
Her voice was a ghost they ignored
At her most vulnerable they stole Something that was hers
Something she had the right to preserve
Her cells
Stolen from the place they called home
Observed
By doctors
Who only saw her as a catalyst for research