Best Recovery From...Words Poems
He fills his syringe with poisoned words
pulling the letters one by one from his rusted spoon
They rise up through the needle in perfect order
"Disgusting" "failure" "worthless" "loser"
There in the cylinder they mix together
until they are a perfect black ink
Although he no longer sees the words
their meanings are not lost on him
As he injects them into his arm
he feels the blackness
Ink travels slowly up his arm towards his heart
At first he enjoys the burning sensation
as capital letters make way for the smaller ones
In the moment he's convinced they are lies
When they reach his heart
he becomes a true believer
By choosing to be less than he is
he occupies his excuses
The I can'ts and never coulds
The poor me's
All the reasons
he's not good enough
The words stack one on top of the other
until his heart is filled with empty
Empty promises
Empty dreams
Somehow this comforts him
He holds tightly to
It's not my fault
It's just the way it is
His is a waking dreamless slumber
only lies seem believable
So he injects another word
"Anger"
Then a question
"Why do others have all the luck?"
Someone who cares
Takes a silver spoon
Fills it up with better words
Feeds him nourishing words
Smart, tenacious, kind and happy
He starts with small sips
one letter at a time
in front of him a golden bowl
filled to the brim with phrases
"You are Lovable"
"Anything is possible"
"Your opinion is important"
At first he is convinced they are lies
Until they reach his gut
Until he becomes a true believer
Taking everything to heart
Satiating his empty
Now he can see beyond what he thought was impossible
His actions speak louder then words
His life is not a wasted gift
From this day forward
He's living his life to the fullest!
Inspired by Jai Bankson's poem "The Habit" check it out!
"To live and learn from a broken heart"
Bottled up behind a soul..
Running streams of tears that rolled..
Over and over words echo in halls..
Knowing the truth as small trees fall..
Empty words fall on closed ears..
Never hidden in a sea of fears..
Hands of love cup my face..
Enough sadness for me to taste..
Aftermath of a crisis makes me strong..
Rising above from what was wrong..
To live and learn from a broken heart..
"Write It Deep And Dramatic, Please"
By Michael J Falotico 9/5/2011
First I get out a piece of paper
and think of words I want to right.
Then I'll get my pencil
and the pencil takes a bite.
It scratches and it claws
the words here that you read.
Have you ever read
the words a heart can bleed?
Like Noah it keeps raining
and I'm caught up in the flood.
Can you read my rain
when it's written in red blood?
It's dripping from this pencil.
It's coming from my soul.
The pain of my addiction
is climbing out of it's hole.
It climbs up on my shoulder
from a pit that's deep and black.
It looks just like a monkey
and it hangs out on my back.
It whispers in my ear.
It screams if I don't listen.
He says,"screw the rent
you don't need a pot to piss in."
He's getting really heavy.
I don't know what to do.
Why can't I tell him, no.
I don't know how, do you?
My monkey needs more drugs
like a rat wants more cheese.
I heard that feeding the monkey
is always a fatal disease.
Someone shoot the monkey
before my soul is lost as well.
I never seem to have enough money.
I do things I'll never tell.
Lord, You know me
and You made me see
the darkness consuming everything
I wanted to be.
I'm sorry I ever let
it come this far.
Blaming a monkey shows me
how bad my choices are.
I'm growing old
but not growing up.
Makes me sick
Feel like throwing-up.
Selfishness hides from me
but dwells deep inside.
I wish that I could see me
but I guess I'm blind.
With Your help God
I'll make it through.
Straight is the path
that leads to You.
One more thing before
my foggy mind forgets.
I think that I should
work the steps.
I'm stepping up to the plate
God throws the pitch.
Bean ball to the head of the monkey
now he can't *****.
I'm excited to get started
without the monkey around.
Please don't let me trip on these steps
and come crashing to the ground.
I heard you shouldn't go fast.
You should be thorough and slow.
Fast or slow I still go up.
The bottom has only one place to go.
Allan
Robert
Granstrom
No words to say
No songs to sing
The voice has gone numb
The mind refuses to run.
Letting my eyes dance away
Upon mountains and valleys
My ears listen to the concert
Of the hidden spring and the birds.
No thoughts to convey
No sounds out of my mouth
Quietly I listen, absorbing the beauty
Upon which my eyes feast, and my heart beats.
I hear your voice
Speaking softly to me
Of words that feed and color
My life with love and splendor.
By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 10.03.10
Awakened to the stillness in the darkened room
Listen to the night sound as dawn is coming soon
Sleep eludes my weary body as I listen to my mind
Can’t chase away the thought of those words so unkind
Common sense says to let the hurtful words slip away
Must the anger and hurt dwell inside my heart this way
Lift the pain from me is the hearts anguished cry
Kneeling at the bedside I ask the father why
Will the end ever come to the price I've had to pay?
Will forgiveness for my mistakes ever come my way
As I return to lay my head upon my feather pillow
Just because some one says it doesn’t make it so
Doing my best is the way it was supposed to be
If I measure up to him above is what I long to see
That love she thought had vanished I can reexpose
Heart frozen like a mannequin but I can change her pose
Rebuilding her foundation using words for tools
Rewriting her souls brochure and changing all the rules
Carving around this diamond and leaving her essence intact
So brilliant the new colors she now becomes abstract
I speak to a broken heart from hundreds of miles apart
Incinerate her old baggage breath life into her new start
My loves gonna have her spoiled rotten
Softenin her emotions she's damn near cotton
I am he whom she seeks beyond the wet sheets
The one who can mentally put her to sleep
Whisper in your ear and collapse all your fear
Evaporate tears whenever Im near
I dont think she'll ever be ready
Make her heart flutter and aint talkin deadly
How long can you guard a door meant to be opened
Trying to mend a heart previously broken
Finding locks but keys have been stolen
Hand full of aces but nobody's foldin
Somebodies gotta be the one to open
That icebox of the soul when all else is frozen
Reading her eyes cause no words are spoken
Her mind was on fire I still see it smokin
I called someone that I had worked with
But, he was not there.
I spoke instead to his wife at the time
I guess I just didn't care.
I was in a place called DEPRESSION,
A sorrowful, dark, and deep kind of pit.
Of course I never knew it at the time
I just wanted to climb out of it.
My friend's wife let me talk for a while,
When all of a sudden she spoke.
"Don't do it, Dan", was all she said
On my own words I began to choke.
"Do what?" I asked quizzically
As I knew not of what she meant.
"I know what you're thinking to do"
Came her words like a jackhammer's vent.
"I tried suicide once", she said
"But someone found me after I took those pills.
Only through their intervention,
Was I saved from the Devil's will."
She then proceeded to express to me
That things need to be dark before they get light.
I thought a great deal about it then,
As I stayed up for most of the night.
I realized that I would have killed myself
Had I not made that one phone call.
If she had not answered the phone,
I would not be here relating this to you at all.
She made me realize that when things get bleak
And you feel so fearful and alone.
There is someone who is there for you
And that light to me was once again shown.
I don't know if she knows how much that call meant
In keeping me alive to this day.
I have written a little about it,
In "Even Angels make Lemonade".
Yes, she was an angel sent by God
To answer my call that night.
I have spent my life trying to rebuild from there
Trying hard to make things right.
I haven't been as successful as I wished
In doing some of the things I wanted to do.
But that conversation has helped me be unafraid
To write this and tell it to you.
I have done something I wanted to do
And each time I do, it does my senses excite
You see, I now put words down for others
And hope they read what I write.
It matters not if they like my words
Or the emotions that have made them flow.
I only want to help someone else as she did
Over a silly phone call...that night so long ago.
verse
Will this rain ever quit?
Rainbow in the sky
Sun makes her move
followed by thunder on I-4
Will this pain ever quit?
Car totalled; I'm broken.
Sun makes her move
then the special diagnosis.
Will the strain ever quit?
Surgery did not go well
Sun makes her move
a nagging dread remains
Will the drain ever quit?
Zapped by much therapy
Sun makes her move
Rainbow in the sky…
I will walk again.
written March 27, 2017
As I figuratively lay on my hospital bed; aiming to bend the laws of reality
and try to recover a life that was once dead,
I hungered to be fed understanding
as I struggled with broken heart syndrome: evoking words that were said
that ultimately lead to my blow to the head.
You visited me to check up on the damage that you caused,
despite the times I looked past all the flaws that were yours.
Holding onto my last breath, in the facade we called a relationship;
I spoke empty words of forgiveness,
as I hoped the next victim of your secrets,
did not witness the tragic sequence
that existed in between our first and our last kiss.
Despite the broken heart,
my pain shall one day depart.
I will recover from the diagnosis on my medical chart,
to find a woman who will love me intently from the very start.
Though this anguish will take awhile to heal,
I feel, in time, these emotions will no longer feel surreal.
In light of concealed intentions, I promise to reveal,
my true feelings to the next female that catches my appeal.
In times of difficulty, the is always a silver lining,
so I choose to undertake some refining and ignore the declining.
Focusing on a love that will one day, break out of the darkness shining.
Cardiomyopathy,
the death of a broken heart and rise of emotional prosperity.
The end.
For more poetry goodness visit www.checkmyflow.co.uk
One day I woke up and my heart was broken, nearly in two.
One day I had lost the words that always brought me to you.
My mind was in a fog that took away the color of my thoughts.
In fact, it took away all the beauty and the rhyming became naught.
It took away the great ideas so creative in their fun filled lines.
Everything I desperately sought for… was suddenly declined.
The mirror of my thoughts became so empty and very blank.
As further into the knowledge of where my mind was going, I sank.
The treacherous workings of my mind, started with a simple little cold.
But in it’s depths lay the trigger, which forced all I know…to unroll.
As my mind shut down, the medicines were useless, but still all there.
And as none brought me back where I wanted… it all seemed so unfair.
For two weeks the dreadful interference continued it’s awful reign.
I didn’t want to go back to the years where to be normal I had to strain.
So I slowly waited out my time… with a prayer readily on my mind.
Allow this illness to diminish… allow those words once more to be mine.
(A lament on my epilepsy that was triggered lately.)
Drivel
Driveling
Driveled
Raped dreams,
Tacit screams,
Youth stolen from behind,
Warped ideas in a mind,
Drinks drown,
Every frown,
That erases the positivity,
Defaces the liability,
One feels,
Film reels,
Could play this life out,
While it curves on the route,
Freedom reigns,
Depressing rains,
Fall amongst the soul,
Craving self-control,
From emotions defeating,
This mind’s repeating,
Mantras for a brighter day,
Blackened rains wash away,
In a lifetime of infinite decisions,
And common slim-lined incisions,
Which path to walk,
How to begin to talk,
About this urge,
To purge,
Myself of affliction,
Complete addiction,
To the words that feel,
The words that seal,
My fate;
I once had this friend who loved to read.
She had one book that she would read continually.
She's dead now but her book remains with me,
and like she, I too read it repeatedly.
I don't enjoy the book's story particularly.
It's not the reading material that I'm prone to read,
but when I read all these words
that were once read by she
it makes me feel like she's a little less dead to me.
because even though she's now gone,
I still enjoy her company
every time I give the words that she once read
my occasional read,
and so I'll continue on reading this so very boring story
not just to feel as if again that I'm sharing her company
but more so,
in honor of her beloved, sweet, cherished memory.
Prone to error or injury-prone
~ This poor word sure needs to atone
By tommyleerage
WITHIN THIS FIRE LAYERS FLAKE AND PEEL AWAY
FLAMES LICK AT ME GREEDILY, EVEN AS WORDS FLAY
"I" , DIMINISHED, LONGED TO BE FINISHED, EVEN TO DIE
"THEY" HAD MADE IT OKAY TO BE ME, NOW ALONE, I CRY
I NOW TRY TO BE A BETTER DAD, NOT A BETTER MAN
I THINK I UNDERSTAND BETTER, WHAT A WINNER NEVER CAN
I AM A MAN, ALIVE THROUGH THE GRACE OF GOD ABOVE
I REGRET OCCASIONAL WORDS AND ACTIONS, NEVER LOVE
LOVE IS WHAT MADE ME MORE THAN MERELY "ME"
I USED TO BE AN INTEGRAL PART OF A FAMILY
I'VE GOTTEN A LITTLE BETTER, YET SO MUCH LESS NOW
TO BE A BETTER DAD, AS A BETTER MAN I KNOW HOW
APART FROM THEM I'M MEANINGLESS, ADRIFT WITH NO EXCUSE
CAN'T KEEP MY SPIRITS UP, IT'S NO USE
THOUGH I AM FREE OF THE STAINS OF THE PAST
I THINK I'VE LOST, OH THE COST OF THOUGHTLESS STONES I'VE CAST
WE WERE NIETHER WITHOUT WRONG, BUT THAT'S MEANINGLESS
BY MY FAMILY I WAS ONCE INFINITLY BLESSED
I REMEMBER FONDLY, EVEN AGGRAVATING THINGS
AND ONLY I AM SUBJECT TO MY OPINIONS STINGS
WHAT I KNOW NOW, THE WHY, THE HOW, THE "WHAT"
I WILL USE TO BECOME MORE TRULY ME, FOR THEY...
ARE "WHAT FOR"