Best Paraplegic Poems
Little boy with a toy gun
Dreams of all that might be fun
To be fully clad in combat gear
And go into battle with no fear
A hero he would like to be
Even though he cannot see
That heroes today are hard to discern
From the victims created without concern
By politicians who think it fine
To support an economy based on crime
Who is it that wins in war
Politicians corporations so many more
Who never see the horror and gore
Just sit at home adding up the score
Measured by profits next quarter’s gain
Riding the military gravy train
Little boy think real hard
You mustn’t ever disregard
What life would be like to come home scarred
Or in a box with an honor guard
The government issues you combat boots
Then leaves you homeless and destitute
TBI PTSD paraplegic or amputee
The VA tries to serve them well
But the government that sent them to hell
Makes many promises then builds a wall
Cutting off resources creating a pall
So many veterans waiting in pain
Ignored by their country
Such a great shame
Little boy with a toy gun
War really isn’t very much fun
Put aside your dreams of glory
Listen to the veterans sad true story
H Tunick July 2015
I have been called a sex god
It has been said that
I radiate an aura of pure sexuality
I stopped telling my friends stories of my exploits years ago
Because they don't believe me
For instance
My last lover was a 54 year old paraplegic actress
I once gave a girl dozens of orgasms within a single minute
And can reproduce this feat at any time on any woman
Every inch of my body is fantastic
Like a machine fine-tuned for sexual pleasure
My sex drive is monstrous
Unending
Makes me crazy
I only stop to smoke cigarettes once every few hours
And I don't have a refractory period
All this is true
I'm probably a nymphomaniac
But it doesn't matter
Because I hate people
Because I hate dating
Because I have nothing to prove
Because the cosmos are indifferent
Because economizing sex disgusts me
I'm generally quiet
Try to keep a low profile
But inside
a Martian sex dragon
Breathing passion and lust
Inside
Roaring madly alone, tortured
Clawing at my skin
Chomping on my bones
Gnashing on my brain like a chew toy
I pretend not to care
I like to think it doesn't have an affect on me
But it is me
And I hate it
And I love it
Contrary let’s have a conversation
Let’s speak to euphemisms
And pregnant letters of anagrams
Sentencing fixation declaring persona non grata
Heads chopped for Eskimos
Sensing heresy and heresy’s
Running around context to a content
Telling a novel to a telenovela
Paragraphs to a paraplegic in paralysis
Please let’s not sell confirmation to be firm
Brought to be bought
Needles piercing through a pierced needle
Mending letters for letter heads
A grieve sensing tears departing death
Condolences speaking so well with pain
She’s passed on, on to the ethos-
And incarnations
Ancestors to an ancestor-
Leaving God with bill to captures guts;
A man with a liver
Words with a man and it was men
Independents, depending on what happens
Independents where are you?
Schizophrenia for frivolous
Respect for all who respond
Spirits speaking so well with spirituality
Serving a soul so soul for flesh purpose
Unity with bones for free
Miracles doomed and boomed in miraculous
Listening to a beginning: a sun so sweet for a sweet
Manifest in emblematic sworn in; the alchemy
Mending Words : THE TRENCHES
THE TRENCHES the pure truth so colorful, so to bring out the beast in a beast; philosophy, spirituality and dreams in priggish ways a fifth chapter.
Life on the flip side,
A state where souls can’t hid,
And the proverbial eagles glide,
All of love will be satisfied,
To structure, will not be tied,
No strife, just life,
Love without end,
No fend no foe,
Are you ready to go,
Those that receive it ,
And believe it,
Will never leave it!
A soul lost in mind’s wilderness,
Isn’t a plus!
For any of us,
What’s the fuss?
Will degenerate us,
Like Rome and Egypt,
The soul becomes paraplegic,
Like a prodigal son,
On a, from God run,
Eating with swine, the lust husk of corn,
And some say don’t be! Alarmed?
You’ve seen the results,
Of souls of lust,
The Nero burn,
Of unconcern,
He did not learn,
And the Pharaoh child,
Of the Nile,
And the Mosanic child,
Float on the Nile,
The Mosanic rod,
Was God,
In the hands of Moses,
Pharaoh thoughts, not able to oppose us,
This rod of Moses!
New city, the image of greed,
Will not succeed,
The seed of old,
Of the mind of Adam’s fold,
As the grassy knoll,
The bold of mind’s unfold,
A great family of greed,
Again does not succeed,
Not God’s seed,
The greed!
Another time upon us,
Are you the opponent,
Will the lady succeed,
In economic greed,
Or will love conceive,
A new relieve,
By love believed,
A new child being conceived,
A pregnancy of relieve,
Within lady of light,
Lifting up life like a kite,
New world of light,
Out of a greedy night!
As many as will,
May take of this gospel pill,
A reality deal,
Love’s pearl,
The real girl,
Not of the world!
Encouragement has been a plenty,
Hasn’t been skinny,
For any,
Love is not a genie,
Not an empty minded panacea,
Receive and believe,
Is love's relieve!
Whatever is believed,
Is your conceive,
Of the mind,
Not of love’s kind,
The heart,
Is love’s start!
From the sacred heart,
Comes the bond of meekness,
Love with no flaw of weakness,
In bleakness,
As the mind’s fears in weakness,
Read and bleed,
Or concede,
God speed!!
7-12-09 [email protected]
The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life pummels us from side to side
randomly dictating its capricious ways
lacking logic the tossing grips us and seeks to take our lives
Death, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes and expresses a tale of coldness and desolation
under the guise of light the dues it extracts from the living
accumulate like wrinkles on our faces the years pile on
The uncertainty of pandemics sends people into despair
mental frenzy engulfs societies
people wring their hands with worry
what happens if I get sick and lose my income?
At night I hear the sound of eighteen wheeler trucks rumbling
On the blacktop toward companies that make copious profits
past the foothills where coyotes cry nature's lament
exacerbating my approach to a precarious and worrisome future
Sometimes, I feel like a watermelon cut in half
exposed to the desert heat slowly drying up
or a taco at Christmas time or a paraplegic in a footrace
exposed in those places where I don’t belong
Leisure time for the working stiff is so elusive
yet now all I’ve got is time and plenty of it,
but there’s no leisure in it only worry
and does not give me needed rest
The yaws of life
seldom deviate from its variant course
but like ships at sea rising and falling in a tempest
our minds proceed at an ambiguous yet dangerous speed
With our hearts frozen in a delirium of past disappointments
they vanish the happy times into the ether of regrets
still we cling to those cherished happy time memories
when Life was more accepting of our youthful indiscretions
Our Ship of Life moves predictably toward an unknown horizon
unsteadily shaking us from side to side, up and down
like loose apples bobbing in an ocean
with our paths uncertain unfolding as we hold on.
Copyright © norberto franco cisneros
being born started it
awakening amidst fire
heat, I prefer cold
homeless, what we had, is gone
broken family moves on
parental split cries
leaves divided broken souls
our goals, torn, unfold
illness kicks in, worrying
two boys, so young amidst such
sprightly playing I
tall grass lies hidden dangers
out stretched hands protect
such pain, excruciating
crimson flow fountains now thrive
monsters, leave us now
two boys, so young amidst such
Monday's we so loved
until we ran, uniforms yea!
I'm small, he runs much faster
boom boom, please slow down
corner turned, I'll catch up
I view him, slam, gone
road reached, I'm scared to turn
now seeing, bloodied trail, tears
Paraplegic, he
we move on, carry on, strong
sadly, Billy's gone
three become two, are we through
our tomorrows we await
Quietness abounds
two reft, illness takes, one left
State spared, no one cared
his last abused, now confused
life's thrall thrown, never grown, blown!
on behalf of the little guy
deep behind enemy territory
welcome to the nameless republic
all good capitalists want a monopoly
all good physicians need you sick
the National Antidote Party broke down the door
I told them everything I know
so they let me off the meat hook
loosened my bindings and necktie
hammered nails in my head instead
powerful radio transmitter nails
don't get too close I'll bend your spoon
gimme a shot of Moonbeam barkeep
and a round for my ill-bandaged crew
we'll drink to the muse Pandemonia
don't get too close she’ll bend yer crank
with another specious spectacle
not necessarily Beauty's anointed
but a piston riding party girl nonetheless
I let you touch happy place
and now my theory on the blinding of Oedipus
which first off requires a family unit
for the inherent predispositions of childbirth
they made me walk upon magic carpet tacks
so me and my echo are here a little late
and a little paraplegic and screaming headaches
this is after all a holy epic of pilgrimage
from the sands of Delirium to the banks of Delusia
a simultaneous ambiance one for each eye
an ancient art form somewhat updated
coordinating the cascades of impulses
yet still black as the inside of a cow I mean crow
this epic deals with a touchy subject
intercession of the gods
grab your hat mister
we're going for a little joy ride
where anything including countries
can be bought sold and stolen
by the mutilators of comparison
hardwired and proud of it the fools
built for Survival the TV show
but times change and
survival meant finding parking
where one can escalate from emaciation
to farting obesity overnight
unrecognized even when brightly illuminated
we know only one thing for certain
that the Universe is knowable
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Hot tamales door to door
Knocking on doors along the sun baked street
Ten inch sub rotting on the dusty ground
Souls breaking under my feet
In pile of money the politician rolls
Malnourished beg for more
Poaching saints from grassy knolls
Black ants devour the ranch covered sub they’ve found
Sewer gasses emerging from fractured concrete
From the skull of a timber rattler crawls a paraplegic spider
Corn tortillas rolled on the bathroom floor
Everyday when his dad came home he was waiting there
This was the special time that his dad always had to share
He taught him to throw and to catch how to swing his bat
Every game he played front row is where his dad was at
Started off with tee ball and even then he was a superstar
Not one of the older kids could hit the ball near as far
Then he moved up to softball and what was clear to see
The boy had a natural gift as natural as a gift could be
When he made it to hardball believe these words are true
Matt was one of the best pitchers the world ever knew
Through school and into Collage there never was any doubt
Their best player step up to the plate, Matt would fan them out
Sometimes in life just when we start thinking everything is great
Whether or not we deserve what happens we meet a divesting fate
Matt was out on a Friday night after pitching a picture perfect game
With the stands full of pro scouts promising him a career and life of fame
His fastball clocked at 98 and his control was pinpoint on the spot
After every game he would hug his dad and tell him “Dad thanks a lot”
A drunk driver ran a red light and ended Matt’s career that night
Being left a Paraplegic as it turns out would be Matt’s final plight
A lesser man would have been angry he would wallow in his hate
But that path was not for Matt he just stepped right up to the plate
Became one of the worlds greatest sit down skiers, the first to do a flip
Matt didn’t just come back swinging he was swinging from the hips
You see Matt’s dad didn’t just play with him he taught him the game
He taught him how to fully believe in himself, the W by his name
What Matt learned from Baseball he taught to you know who
Long as you believe in and assert yourself, nothing you can’t do
Written in honor of Matt Oberholtz
who I was fortunate enough to meet
because my friend Nick Jenkins was
his roommate. Want to talk about a
cool guy ice cycles shot out the back
of his water ski. Oddly enough I wrote
Matt's poem for Matt's contest.
Apropos Genesis
(For The Apostolic Poets I Know)
Now I see
said the blind
brother
sister
as the brail
shed light
on the Word:
Truth—
I hear
said the deaf
brother
sister
hearing
the thundering
signed Word—
I feel you
said the paraplegic
brother
sister
who felt and feels
the written Word:
blinking
thinking
scratching
tearing
echoing
in every way—
What’s your problem…
brother!?!
sister!?!
Tell me!!!
Yo! I shall
see you!
Yo! I shall hear you!
Yo! I shall feel you!
Yo! I shall walk with you!
Yo! I shall fight with and for you!
Word!
The word Abstinence is an abortion waiting to happen.
The word Prudence is a psychopath waiting to kill.
The word Temperance is an abusive husband waiting to strike.
The word Justice is a murderer waiting to be proven not guilty.
The word Courage is a rape victim waiting out of fear for saying anything.
The word Faith is an Atheist waiting to be born.
The word Hope is a cancer victim waiting for their nonexistent transplant.
The word Charity is a hungry child waiting for the food that will never come.
The word Smile is child waiting at the end of a noose.
The word Clarity is a crazed lunatic waiting for a nonexistent cure.
The word Sanity is the mind waiting to shatter.
There are many words in this world that have meanings that have been altered.
But they don’t always have to be that way.
The word Love is a root and a thorn by which a rose comes to blossom.
The word Give is an abandoned child receiving a new family.
The word Life is a sick child being given the medicine needed to survive.
The word Happiness is a mother giving birth to their first child.
The word Kindness is a stranger giving a homeless man some bread.
The word Goodness is a person giving their body to be an organ donor.
The word Strength is a person with one leg becoming a martial arts champion.
The word Determination is a paraplegic getting a gold metal in the Olympics.
The word Perseverance is a person with one arm winning a gymnastics competition.
There are many words in the world and so many of them are black
But if we remain strong and live life we can find all of the ones that are white.
The unpredictable yaw of rolling seas,
as in life, pummels us from one side to the other
randomly dictating capricious ways
arbitrarily gripping our lives
Life, like the ghost of Christmas past,
comes at night, tells its tale and is gone
but the dues it extracts keep mounting
like wrinkles on our faces the years pile on
The uncertainty of pandemics sends people into despair
mental frenzy abounds,
they wring their hands and worry
what happens if I get sick and lose my job?
At night I hear the sound of eighteen wheeler trucks rumbling
toward companies that make copious profits
past the foothills where coyotes cry nature's lament
exacerbating my precarious and worrisome future
Sometimes, I feel like a piece of watermelon
exposed to the desert heat slowly drying up
or a taco at Christmas time or a paraplegic in a footrace
exposed in those places where I don’t belong
Leisure time when needed is so elusive
yet now all I’ve got is time and plenty of it,
but there’s no leisure in it only worry
and does not give me needed rest
The yaws of life
seldom deviate from its variant course
but like ships at sea rising and falling in a tempest
they proceed at full speed
Our Ship of Life moves predictably toward an unknown horizon
unsteadily shaking us from side to side, up and down
like loose apples bobbing in an ocean
with our paths of uncertainty unfolding as we hold on
With our hearts frozen in a delirium of past disappointments
they vanish the happy times into the ether of regrets
still we cling to those cherished memories
when Life was more accepting of our youthful indiscretions
maybe, but Life being what it is, we cling to the good feelings experienced
that we come to accept as the ebb and flow of life evolves
and pushes us toward a far horizon
one we shall never know.
Paraplegic
Wheelchair, catheter
Racing, dancing, maneuvering
Colourful rims and frame, colourful little person,
Singing, rhyming, mischievous
Surgery, bedridden,
Me
***
6th place in Diamante contest
Sponsor Janis Thompson
October 15, 2016
They say keep fighting
All these wrongs that I've been righting
What's left, left in these writings
In the dark looking for lighting
They say keep fighting
A war which there's no winning
The boundaries are only thinning
I was love in the beginning
They say keep fighting
I don't feel!
Like a paraplegic
I fed my love to bulimics
It hardened me, made me strategic
But I say keep loving
Not everyone will be deserving
Paradoxical when you're hurting
But even seeds grow after buried.
I say keep loving
I know it's a haystack but be a needle
Love of self and another's equal
Hurt people just hurt people
So we need to keep living
I put a halo on you like a blessing
Sentenced myself from the lesson
Forgot love and was regressing.
No! I need to keep loving!
My wall encloses my enemy
Avoiding pain is what kills me
My account of death resurrects me
To love is to start living
We idolize Netflix and chilling
We say "Eff love" and it's soul killing
Because we’re love but we stopped giving
To live is to start loving
Leaves fall,
and soon will
My death.
Without a
Calamity.
Rocks thrown
by the prostitute
In my own stoning.
But I'm not worried.
My heartbeat continues,
Until I'm done
Helping with the
Paraplegic that
Was abused.
In that public
school I pretended
I knew Christ.
And like any liberal
I believe in the mission
Without consequence
And with the flowers
of forgiveness.