Best Deprivation Poems
There are terms humanity uses, phrases words appear."
To communicate emotions, in aim of clarity, or to help
Verbally in communicating our anxiety, or sense of honour
Even anger, love or fear.' Some terms are formed generically.' Yet others are forged and planned.' To strike
At the spirit, heart and souls of 'right thinking women and
Man' the word ( elites ) is being used to describe indeed
The dregs..' its as dis-informative in the context and concept
Indeed its correction ' must get now on its legs' to
Highlight those of repulsive ways..Who glorify abuse who
Plan nightmares today.' Who facilitate urusry murder and
Greed, who co-opt and co-erce for the basest of needs who
To be validated are willing to do the vilest' the dirtiest things.)
Scum could do.' I find no word low enough.! No term that
Will match.' To the acts of these lunatics and the sick dreams they hatch.' (They call wicked for good) remember
My friend; (2020?) and just extrapolate' then and only things will
Get on the mend!
Deprived of a relationship,
When i just so needed one,
A social worker relationship,
Holding no bar, mind or gun.
Having nobody to talk to,
Is not very nice, not right,
When people matter to you,
And god is their height.
Not understanding reason,
Sat within two metal bars,
Everything feeling like treason,
You’re left with only scars.
Contemplating memory,
If yours does to other people,
When you state your story,
About the faithful’s steeple.
Deciding you’re an atheist,
With evolution at your back,
Hoping there will be no theist,
In the school staff’s stack.
Disappointed by Assembly,
Hurt by daily implementation,
Annoyed by the physio bubbly,
Who offered religious direction.
Affected by the school kids,
Who’d accepted the basic god,
Given it by teachers’ bids,
Who were in no way odd.
Not wanting life anymore,
Attempting to, not succeeding,
Then deciding to come ashore,
With the school doctor, bleeding.
Happy from that moment on,
When I shared my heart with him;
He was not in any way gone,
When others proved terribly dim.
He was my friend at university,
My carers’ supervisor and my physio,
And still to this day in animosity,
My mum doesn’t know about him, foe.
What’s the point of that silence,
The slip of her mind every time,
Her forgetfulness about his presence,
When i refer to him as mine?
She thinks she’s on top of me,
Above all my formal relationships,
But the right the live, you see,
Rests with you and not kinships.
Privacy is privacy, and it means space,
And the doctor’s room is confidential;
You can make or brake by your face,
Your relationships by your prudential.
the
foot lights
in blackout
The lighting, it was over-bright
Sleep, now a luxury deprived
For here there is no day or night
The lighting, it was over-bright.
Lethargy saps the will to fight
How long can he retain his mind?
The lighting it was over-bright
Sleep now a luxury deprived.
Blank thoughts...
dead like sardines
in a can I bought at Cosco's,
deprive me of freedom's
sweet words!
Life,
is not fair
or maybe it's
death
Deprivation
from ones we love
sorrow is it's
present
Sickness
in our minds
our bodies not in good
health
Bothersome
are the days
but the memories serve us
pleasant
Unsafe
thoughts cross the brain
by knowing you those thoughts are
Stealth
Conviction
painful with you gone
remembrance is the
penchant
Principled or vile, honorable or depraved,
we all view the same stars,
suffer the same dread.
The richest minds among us were
all once bedwetters.
The puerile erect walls like Trump’s fortification,
they imagine iron and concrete impervious to the
ghosts of culture and language,
never recognizing the absurd futility,
never once realizing their enslavement
to their own defenses.
Here we are conjoined,
the tormented with their tormentors,
the marginalized with the entitled
awash in the night long freezing rain
culminating in a new morning light
where we yearn to find new hope.
No one has reformed.
No one is converted
and yet, no one is the same.
The pages of days flip past.
We find great promise discarding
our malignancy of mind,
the dark ages we left behind.
We see a future as we climb free
from our climate of abhorrence, the
mind games of conspiracy,
though we still contend with our bigotry,
our racism, our dogmatism, paradoxically,
we also find our capacity to love unconditionally.
In the terrane of deplorable deprivation manifested
in the wasteland of wretched desertion,
the obscure tufts of the subdued slender grass
struggle to rise through the cleavage of stony destiny.
The frail faces shaping the artifacts of spiteful fate,
flicker with the fading smile of residual innocence,
borrowed from the remnant rays of the forsaken sun,
already sunk in the depth of desolate dark horizon.
The children when they should be blooming like flowers,
stray to nowhere, uncared and soiled
in the harsh squall of the juvenile servile servitude.
Under the fair freedom spread by the unbound sky
the infantile dewdrops devoid of pristine patina
no longer bejewel the puerile grass of our meadow.
Tarnished by the muck of our malevolent times,
the deranged dreams of the dew dry premature.
In the twilight hour on the penultimate journey,
I wish I could give the last rays of my setting sun
to the relics of the dewdrops so they can glow awhile.
I wish I could drip the last drop of empathy from my oasis,
so their innocent smile doesn’t desiccate in inimical desert.
Just one thing I’d like to change is to stop child labor,
show the children of the lesser God
the dreams of dew that would never die.
I've been awake for hours,
and all through the night,
I could not imagine morning,
the day as it turned out to be,
so hard to grasp, in truth, lies,
imagination, the copied moments
seemed so real... like life, with men
walking down the subway platform,
shivering like ghosts,
in formulaic pale,
whizzing transparent
as a dream escaping into reality,
and what can you really do? In delirium,
but keep writing, living, as seaweed
suspended in water like hair flowing
out
of liquid bedroom walls... this can't be
right, but left of me there's nothing,
save a voice that echoes on either side
of my head, signaling stereo brain damage
to my muse, who in turn tells me to keep
writing, because it's an opportunity
to let some new experience expose
in the light of day, like an untouched
photograph of a man you met once at a bar,
and God..
he had the craziest stories-
like this one time, the fool didn't sleep for a hundred hours,
because he felt like he was wasting his time,
and so he invested it, and lost everything
in a gambling match with his health,
wound up ten days later with no recollection
of enlightenment, hopped up on Thorazine
and broker than a camel, sleeping on straw
coloured hair, recounting everything
in fragmented
sections,
from the broad side of a pillow,
with love, and a fragile psyche,
but he's psycho, and sees text
as background to fantasy, passing
out...
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I litterally passed out after writing this, this is the now edited version.
Such an out languish word, LOVE used freely and giving; misinterpretations of something that can be beautiful. We all look for things, deep down it’s what we want, when we know it’s nothing but the dreams that plays in our heads; when your left fighting for something knowing it’s not what was needed in the first place.
So focused on the negative things and blinded we turn away from the bright side, we are alive, be thankful. Say what you believe; what about what you feel pouring a little of your soul in a situation that doesn’t deserve to have something so precious. Painful made thoughts turned into bitter feelings, turn into a bitter person not sure of what’s wanted or needed. Negative thoughts can’t be replaced with good intentions; good things are far from positive when the motive proves to be selfish. It’s all about what we believe in. How much we care for ourselves. Find your own confidence and be that better person.
It’s easier to tell the lies to feel accomplished when jealously grow like black roses in their garden full of misery ashamed of not wanting to know who you are. Continue your shameful thoughts; action does speak louder than any lies told. Wrongful actions becomes our greatest regret. Be truthful with yourself; learn personal love and maybe you won’t feel so bad about whatever it is that you’re dealing with.
Everyone goes through things it’s all about the maturity of handling those situations.
Continue to hide behind your wall of lies and scams that seem to work in your favor. It doesn’t last long. What was started in the beginning end with a few verses of your life? Isn’t and wasn’t worth reading. Learn to love you and yourself to grow to be the person you should be. Stop surrounding yourself with others that doesn’t know how to love when we deprive ourselves of our own love that we deserve.
How can I sleep when my thoughts are racing?
Going round and round, my mind is pacing.
All these bad dreams they keep me awake,
They seem so real but I know they're fake.
Truthfully, when I'm there lonely at night
My feelings reach a complete new height.
Late at night when my rhymes begin,
All the longing and hurt finally set in.
They haunt me when I sit there alone,
It's not just my heart, my thoughts you own.
Everything starts and end with you,
I wish my bad dreams didn't too.
Some of the things from my nights of hell,
You'll probably never ever get me to tell.
One day, it'll be your eyes I'll see,
When you're home I know I'll be nightmare free.
Deprived of sleep most every night
Always looking like a fright
Bags under my tired eyes
No matter how much I try
The sandman won't hear my plea
Begging him to get some sleep
Sprinkling his magic dust
Over me so I can just
Snore all through the darkened night
Not waking till the morning light
Refreshed and full of energy
Not insane and going crazy
From my lack of nightly slumber
Mr. Sandman put me under
Before one day I just crack
Sleep deprivation that I lack
Will drive me nutty and fall
In a room with rubber walls
My thoughts bouncing everywhere
Mr. Sandman don't you care
That my marbles have been lost
Because of a stingy boss
Watching over bags of sand
That he sprinkles from his hand
If we knew in advance that all daughters and sons
keep us up every night: yours and mine — everyone’s
(teething, peeing and screaming,
yet so INNOCENT-seeming),
we’d be living in convents like well-rested nuns.
When I'd give an arm and a leg! --
What's more, every Christmas I beg:
I want a dog! Please please pleeeaase!
But mom complains of poop and fleas.
I'd claim responsibility to give a wash
But my dream of a dog goes-- squash
I plead, I persuade, and I pray --
Promise to walk my dog every day!
No matter how much I blatantly bribed
Mom's allergies leave me dog-prived. :(
The potluck is right around the corner of my room, so smells are wafting in already.
Luscious wonderful terrific delicious smells – pumpkin, cinnamon, chocolate, mayonnaise.
You cannot smell mayonnaise? My heart goes out to you. I am sorry for your loss,
Someone just took the lid off the baked beans again. I do not dare try for those, knowing
How low my rear is to the ground, spending my day walking past little low children who
Do not deserve to receive the memory of me enjoying a big sweet tub of baked beans.
I was hospitalized with a spastic colon, and urged to not eat any of my favorite foods any more.
My favorite foods are jalapeno peppers, chili, spaghetti, fried chicken, and more jalapeno peppers.
Matter of fact, I could eat jalapeno peppers on my pumpkin pie, and not miss the whipped cream.
A connoisseur of all the foods I should not eat, but I can now smell, I decide to take a little walk.
Those who see me think I am doing something important. I am. I am saving myself from me.