Resounding echoes awaken the child
demons in the attic beckon unto him
stark fear grips his Vick's laden chest
shivers vibrate rusty springs of down
footsteps creak closer upon loose floorboards
while steamed filled pipes play taps
a somber teddybear snarls
causing the world to be still
foolish nuns, God doesn't want to "get me"
the sting of a ruler splinters a left hand
blood spurts upon faces of laughter
evil little boy too wicked for a mother
affliction runs in the family
Florence became flop because she always fell
polio never whipped her ass
just abused her now and then
she healed with a smile
Even humility has its price
Jimmy Dean wore sunglasses
maybe his eyes were bloodshot
or maybe he was a child of an alcoholic
and they became part of his attire
degenerate eye disease, masturbation
spattering or battering
does it really matter when you can't see
or understand the difference between ADD and ADHD
Psych 101: Crack can be Prozac
Iron gates surround a new residence
protecting the innocent who peer from outside
rehabilitation means refining bad habits
like those on the outside who have mastered them
twelve years of bars and games people play
provide an education unto itself
seclusion can be the deciding factor
between murder or suicide
self righteous judges choose life
recidivism is a revolving door
of vicious cycles with no engines
only propellers called co-dependants
or co-defendants, take your pick
life repeats itself over and over
only the circumstances change
yet the merry-go-round stops
when the flowers are arranged
Why are most tombstones gray
scared, afraid to die
are you saved?
from what, ourselves
you can't hurt me
Bob Shank-Nov. 30th, 2006
Copyright © Bob shank | Year Posted 2006
Induce an altered state
A psychedelic paradise
A burst of colors
Impaired reality of dreams
A fix of blissful forgetfulness
Married to ecstasy
What need have I of these?
When I have you
My drug of choice
I will not touch any of the others
But you, I long to touch…
To feel you under my fingertips
To caress before I ingest
And let you posses...
Every way I can have you is good…
Take you in orally
Taste you laced with everything
Under my tongue...
I start getting high….
Climbing and climbing
My roller coaster rocketing high
On your words
On the scent of your emotions
On the presence of you in my mind
Who could ever find
A more wholesome or better stimulant...
Yes, you stimulate every part of me
You excite me
Make me delirious
Bring fire to my veins
Drive me insane
Make me oblivious to the pain
Leave me wanting more than the time before
Wanting a larger dose of you
Unaware of my surroundings
I climax on this induced trip
You….my drug of choice
The drug from which
There is not even an iota
Of hope for rehabilitation….EVER...
Every cell to my very core is under your control
I want you coursing in my blood
Flooding my brain
FIX AFTER FIX AFTER FIX
More often…more intense…longer…stronger…
What drug can compare to you?
My ever present addiction…
Opiate of my obsession
Drug of my choice….
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Was struck by a bolt of inspiration on this one! :)
Belt it out with Amy Winehouse…..”They wanted to take me to rehab, but I said ‘NO, NO, NO’.” ;) When I teach my students a rule or so in grammar, I say, for example, "Can you use a comma to join two independent clauses? Is it enough punctuation?" Then, in answer, I belt out with Amy..."NO, NO, NO!" They laugh!
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013
( On backdrop of current JAPAN tragedy.
Dedicated to all who lost lives and property in worst devastation ever.
Our sincere prayers for their salvation, succour to surviving victims, early rehabilitation)
Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Fukushima
Nuclear destination, bombing and self-explosion
Human rant, God is just name for chant
Reign human invention, HE just mythological sovereign
God disliked apathy, shelved sympathy
thought to teach lesson, venue selected Japan
Quake, Tsunami, Fire, Radioactive leak, wreck plenty
65 seconds flat, venue littered with death float
Humans abuse Nature, expect HIM to spare, care
HIS justice, a show reality sans court, hearing or attorney
HE delivers salvation to devastation, superpower to roadside pauper
Avoid HIS wrath, stick to HIS rules, HE not Human actually rules
For Members Contest – The Rhyme Inside by Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Hitendra Mehta | Year Posted 2011
I down poison and sleep for days
trying to take the heart ache away
I swallow rasorblades to take the headaches away
but nothing matters its always the same
what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger
liar liar pants on fire!!!!
Overdosed and dieing
survived it and now paying with liver damage and internal bleeding
The car crash of the drunk driver
nail biting aftermath
and another reason to go out and party
for the celebration
of the alcoholic
who just took the life of his best friend
I'm the victom
I'm the victom
I'm the victom he says
but low and behold the survivors in the other vehicle
stronger than ever
all crippled and in wheel chairs
they should really thank the drunk driver and condemn
all the hippocrits who know nothing of survival
so here i am
wishing to be more strong
why bother to exercise
they surely have it all wrong
why pay attention to science any way
all those cliches can tell you about apples and sunshine
but we know what doesn't kill you makes you stronger
so i think I'll cut off my leg
go play in traffic
or fight the wars by doing too much drugs
the place inside the fire can tell you
what doesn't kill you will only make you strong
A second lease on life
a new found reason to get up and go
and find god and praise life
and all the things i should have done
and all the newfound glorious reasons to cry
why oh why oh why oh why
thank you lord thank you Jesus
thank you wars thank you liars thank you lies
thank you doctors thank you poets
thank you psychologists
thank you preachers for truly understanding an age old cliche
I'll peel off this apple to keep the doctor away throw out the core
if it doesn't kill me
I'm probably just weak
and after all the rehabilitation and speach therapy i still don't feel like me
Copyright © Troy Nelson | Year Posted 2007
Windows of my life,through
which I see the world.Silhouettes
imaged moments transfigured
forever imprinted upon memory.
Windows of my life,paused moments
in which I live in the land of the living.
Precious gaps of reality,distractions
from the monotony of the repetitive
routine of the cycles of my rehabilitation
a rejuvant restoration on the road to good health.
You may hear me recite this and most of my PS catalogue on Youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2015
The era of catatonic self-destruction has risen yet again from boulder-blocked caves,
Whose cavernous stalactite incisors drip with the blood of thorny crowns,
Worn in punitive irony for the subversion of fertile inferiority,
Which, like rabbits, duplicates and hops about in trouncing contentment.
Yet despite the grin stretched beneath empty eyes,
Which are eclipsed by dilation of cimmerian shades poured from tipped inkwells,
Darkness ripened by age has inflated its penumbral grasp upon the solar plexus.
Hearts beat now to the false circadian rhythm of telemetry.
Screens fueled by waves polluting the air scramble for attention;
Screaming as if the spotlight has slithered away from their thespian heads.
But even so we watch as if waiting for a nothingness we know.
Petulant performances pretending to perfect the perception of reality persevere,
Despite their lack of empirical validity.
Our bodies and the space around they occupy have become irrelevant.
Experience and physical stimulation have been replaced by mirror neurons,
Firing incessantly at the sight of electromagnetic facsimiles,
Which are vomited in projected disproportion into our unwitting faces,
From nauseating mouths of those whose disease has spread to lower echelons.
And so we sit and stare upon the square on walls and in our hands,
As the prefrontal cortex and its dehydrated lobes succumb to the reptilians.
Another era of lack of mind borne from the fruitlessness of parasitic seeds,
Planted by the pretenders who swim in the wealth of our applause.
Clap away, we will, until we collapse in the arthritic solidification of redundant repetition.
Welcome to the show; a televised apocalypse of thought.
Where worlds were once created in cognition,
They're now created in the lenses of cameras.
When worlds were once refracted light coruscating from the eye,
They're now flickered in slides reflected from the television.
This poem was written for the poetry contest, "Show Me (Completely Revamped Version)" sponsored by Catie Lindsey.
In this poem, I chose the Free Verse form to demonstrate how I write in this form without using my speaking voice. The way I write free verse is actually inspired by a psychological method of rehabilitation called Dialectical Behavior Theory (DBT). In this psychological model, individuals undergoing therapy are told to think of their selves as a product of three different types of self (the rational, the emotional, and the wise self.) The wise self is supposed to be considered a perfect balance between rationality and human emotion. I mention DBT because human speaking voices are often bogged down by either emotion or rationality. When I write free verse, I attempt to mold together the mathematical techniques of poetry, such as simile and metaphor, and decorate them with irregular language and diction for the purpose of glittering the mathematics of syllogism with aesthetic language. I call this the DBT of poetry.
That being said, I used techniques such as simile, metaphor, assonance, occasional inner rhyme, and consonance to employ layered meaning in order to create a non-speaking voice piece of free verse.
Copyright © Brendan J. Simons | Year Posted 2017
Heavily Damaged: 10,000 feared dead,
cadavers of ripped children litter on the streets,
Totally Devastated: People are desperate,
the streets are infested with terrible hunger,
looting is everywhere,
The whole city: State with anarchy,
Most of the communities on the coastal areas around the Visayas region: Literally wiped out,
defaced from the map in a blink of an eye,
washed away into the ocean by tsunamis of 15 feet higher,
After the apocalyptic deluge of super typhoon Yolanda,
sufferings plagued with painful sadness reign,
dead mothers hugged by crying children still wet with gushing blood,
a confused father carrying the cadaver of his young daughter,
whole families uprooted,
died in a split second,
an old woman eternally searching for her dead sons and daughters,
the old man shedding tears before the church's sacred altar,
his mind could not imagine the magnitude of the devastation,
an unthinkable natural calamity,
such a tragic phenomenon he just experienced in his lifetime.
My heart bleeds while watching these heart breaking news flashed
in every corner of the victims' eyes are unimaginable sufferings beyond human comprehension,
not even a poetic thought could find a word to describe the sorrow they are going through,
even an artist's passionate hand finds it hard to portray on canvass the agonies of homelessness,
worst than nightmare is that their dreams are swept away by heavy flooding.
how depressing to see them trembling under the bitter coldness without clothes.
Even the wrath of nature is terrible,
the very nature that we abused for so long,
but never loose hope,
there will always be calm after the storm,
as beautiful rainbow appears after the rain,
you'll never walk alone through your endeavor towards rehabilitation and restoration,
in spite of the political scandal of corruption that afflicts our country,
the politicians that put us in global shame,
the disease that we are trying to cure day by day,
but always remember,
we are filipinos born with a spoon of resiliency,
deep in our hearts are true compassion for others,
the spirit of bayanihan still dwells within us,
hand in hand we help each other like a one big family,
together we stand united,
this tragedy will be overcame,
and realize that this enemy is just but a small problem to beat.
Copyright © gianni pansensoy | Year Posted 2013
Lean into me Luv,
abandon the logic of romance,
be naked in the nature of my need,
pant openly as weightlessness prickles your pink parts,
Tonight I do not want your love,
I don't deserve it anyway, a villian in exhuberance,
I just want the secrets of your sex, without plead,
to suck the salt of your secretion, feed on the spray of your darts,
Slaking my savagery with the skin of your submission,
unlocking the vault with nimble pick, to teach with a spanking stick,
having that naughty nook spilling a confession of capitulation, dizzy dilation,
an Angel of excess, I place your safety on a shelf of disarray, caution on delay,
I want to ravage the basement of your beauty, finding hot boxes of remission,
rummaging the attic of your aggressions with the precision of a magic trick,
I don't need you to be my nurse, a Nightengale of negligent rehabilitation,
I don't want the chill of charity, just the alarm of your domination in dismay,
Melt upon the mercy of my meat,
let me take the wet wisdom of your woman's weapon
smear it along the dagger of my undiagnosed demolition,
under a Blood Moon your body will flex without rest, hesitation does retreat,
I gently grip your throat, as I feel your moan in the soft palm of my hand's vindication -
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2014
Why does dawn dress robust morning,
while dusk undresses sight?
Each dawn incarnates another Earth Day
a lifetime of Easter mornings
redeeming nocturnal sight's revolution,
another therapeutic day of gift-it-forward light,
some shorter before naked covered night.
To uncover love's enlighting therapeutic invitation,
integrity's eco-arising comprehensive bright.
To discover love life sustained bilateral becoming
within Earth dependent ego-death's belonging.
To recover co-passion's perpetual peaceful pilot light,
decomposing fire's burning fuel and flame
and flow toward warm home health,
timeless regenerating sight.
Why universal rehabilitation,
repurposing of people,
Recreation unfolds redemptive revolutions,
dawning/darkening new each moment
expanding each day to contract each night
and present presence life
as co-operating species,
polypathic paradigms and memes,
language and information,
form as dynamically reintegrating function,
inclusive conscience as revolutioning regenerate ego/ecoconsciousness,
each loving act of mutual gravity's emergence,
ego-eco zero-solidarity practice
Therapeutic intent to rehabit and repurpose
grows internally nutritious inspirational DNA health roots,
natural trans-generational therapeutic branches,
ecological economics healing cooperative Paradise Lost
within our Tree of CooperativeLife meets CompetitiveDeath,
without our Tree of Languaged "Good" and "Evil,"
organic rooted landscapes
of Ego absorbing polypaths
echoing Earth's co-arising great with small transitional nurture-systems.
Language both fertilizes and farms,
produces and consumes
echoes and enthymemes
nouns and verbs
subjects and objectives
causes and effects
grows and harvests
induces and deduces,
inhales and exhales
yangs and yins
optimizes and purges
lives and decomposes rainbow octaves
universalizes and integrally unites polyculturing visions
building on sight
reflecting off light
rebounding of sound
Speech and thought can both rehabit and repurpose understanding,
co-passion feeds con-science
as ecojustice fills out anthrocentric peace with plants and planet.
DNA's temporal analysis decomposes eating cultural memory,
image evolving imagination,
hope co-arising faith,
despairing dreams predicting syntax edicting climatic decay,
raping eco-screams restricting life's sensual gift potential,
universal dark negentropy swallowing and regurgitating
inhaling and exhaling
Earth's teleosynthetic life of time-squared zero-light,
both dissonance and confluence,
chaotic energy swelling complex matters
double-negatives justifying ecological positive balance,
contentiousness challenging co-operating contentedness,
fearing ego-death inviting beloved eco-climaxing ecstatic life,
longing regenerating belonging.
Noticing dipolar relationships,
Ego-yang swelling not-not Eco-yin's Earth flight,
enrich multiculturing fields of analogy,
Win-Win games reiterating time's perception of inclusive hope,
growing consciousness of interdependent iconic-ionic paradigms
feeding within and on each Other,
Double Dark dynamic love between weeds and seedy compost flowers,
brother and sister transparent organic kosmic farm
of deep absorbing ecologic.
Bi-identified RNA rests simply silent vital void
growing confidence in SunGod's compelling righteous revolution
spilling out discontented longing roots
investing regenerate co-passion's peacefilled therapeutic NOW.
SunGod is to Yang/Yin flowing power potential
as ReGenerate Tribal Identity is to Earth's voiceless harmony,
listening discernment to and of and in and by DNA's health-assurance systems
as non-violent intent is to recreative peace and ecojustice practice,
as embracing empathic conscience grows co-passion's Beloved Community.
Decompositional function of polynomial binary/bilateral language
grows information's reverse hierarchy of ego/ecoconscious bicameral systems,
where Right-brain not-not polycultural relationship
rediscovers binomial space as fractal time's proportional construction,
revolving double-boundaried resolution of eternal time,
co-relational meeting of infinitely omnipresent past
with omnipotent future.
Regenerate function of language creates,
subjects health objectives to empirical scrutiny,
nouns verbs toward analogical futurity,
brights dawns both ecologically wise and economically (0)-sum co-operative,
fueling Earth's Win-Win co-passioning power toward global peaceful justice.
Eco-systemic comprehension both biofuels and farms permacultural love,
organic ecotherapy emerging all four economic seasons,
including advent's winterish purgation,
winnowing Identity's weedy monocultural/monomial root assumptions,
composting Earth Tree's rehabiting spring production branches
stretching out gravity's mutual nutritious gratitude
toward Omniscientific Earth's radiant emerging light.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
I had just reached the summit of the mountain;
The final reward for my four hour hike up the steep terrain.
There was still snow in abundance at the peak
Even though the summer sun bathed me in light from the cloudless sky.
The sweat, in which I was fully drenched,
Was turning cold against my aching body once I sat down for a rest and a view of the wondrous landscape below.
Each deep breath I inhaled further cleansed my soul; further restored my spent energy.
I sat and contemplated.
Even though I was alone, atop this glorious mountain;
Even though I passed no other hikers along the trail on which I labored for four hours;
Even though I was so high up, I could not make out any signs of human life in the miles and miles of God’s green earth that stretched out before me down below;
I somehow felt less lonely here than I do when I walk amongst the hordes of people in a mall;
Or, sit in a crowded theater;
Or, stand on the train because there are no seats left upon which to sit;
Or, walk the hallways of an office building full of employees just waiting for the time to go home.
At the same instance, while in awe of the beauty in the scenery I took in,
I felt so miserably insignificant and yet, so magnificently important.
My legs ached. My heart pounded. My feet throbbed. My back tightened. And, I had never felt better in all my life.
I sipped water from the bottle that accompanied me up the mountain.
I ate the power bar with the knowledge that going back down is no easy proposition.
I watched the sun slowly get closer to the distant horizon.
And, I smiled. And, I cried.
Then, it came time to head back down.
I felt like I was leaving my best friend on my way back to prison to finish out my sentence:
Found guilty of having accumulated debts that must be paid;
Found guilty of having responsibilities demanding my attention;
Found guilty of embarking on a career path that rewards me monetarily while sucking away the spirit of my soul.
But, I will be back. Not to this same mountain, but certainly to this same state of mind on another peak.
This is my rehabilitation. This is my church. This is my salvation.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2014
R and R
Fan those palm fronds a little faster, boys
As I recline here in dignified poise
I’m Cleopatra, your Egyptian queen
I require the most sumptuous cuisine
Not queen for a day, but for a whole week
Surrounded by tall men with great physiques
Quit your bellyaching, why can’t you grasp
I’m not fated to succumb to an asp
Just provide me with every luxury
Or I’ll send your wives to a nunnery
For seven days I’ll be waited upon
It’s my vacation so I can dream on
Classes I miss and work piles on my desk
As I relax, remaining statuesque
Rest and rehabilitation is grand
On day eight, I’ll respond to your demands
For Carol Brown's "A week to do as I please" contest
Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2010
The brazen breath of your holy anticipation… writhing…conniving…
I am spent… so, so spent….
Terrified of your superior countenance, I crush these words in the mortar of your eyes closed tight
Good eye, black eye…. averting side to side
Where is this mess taking me next?
Your fingers clasp about my throat, astonishing the gods on high
I have never seen the angels so irresolutely fly!
Bite me and let it be over!!!
This pain I have inflicted upon you is far beyond my conception
The ink being squeezed from me in tasty inception
Your teeth sinking in me and pulling….stretching like liquid elastic
The less of me makes certain of my love for you—so drastic
Your breathing mightier, more intentional, strove in the soles that tread for eons!
You have me dancing on your razor-sharp ledge…
The sledgehammer waiting for the moment you make your pledge
Testify!!! Or die…
Cringing, singing, dormant in disparity
My words strive so illusively, vainly for clarity
Smoothing the edge of your lips— two swords that clash
I hasten within the slit to the tongue that dares such confirmation…
You are my only,
Without you, I am so very lonely..
Look at these tears feverishly fall
When truth denies the wretchedness of your livid calls
In futile reserve, it seems I have made my mark
Misery is central in this looming, squirming dark
You devour my mind’s passions until all that remains is yours
And for a moment, I allow the rehabilitation of your force
Hold onto me, again
I have dulled those swords, the entrance to your mouth
So that when they pierce me again,
I will fall to the earth with no doubt…
And you will penetrate me with all of your strength,
You will utter your love to me again,
Then I will close my eyes in peace,
And the gods can again breathe…
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
There is a stress that is brought upon a person from a source not of his own making. Also, there is a different self-born/inflicted type, though unplanned, yet avoidable. Since becoming an adult and finishing college, I have been jobless at least four times. Each period of unemployment caused stress, discomfort, and some anxiety.
In the Spring of 1974, after resigning a position with a drug rehabilitation program, I had no idea what I would be doing next. I had been married less than two years, with a baby less than one year old. As I recall, the Lord being merciful to me, I was able to find employment in a relatively short period of time.
In the Fall of 1974, I quit my job as a baker and moved some 600 miles to another state. The move became a source of anxiety. Nevertheless, I began to grow as a person and a christian. I have heard it said, "Nothing ventured; Nothing gained." In my early years, it seems that I was programed to take giant leaps of faith; but currently, not so much. Rain usually comes with a storm; and roses are surrounded by thorns.
In Fall of 1978, yet again, I resigned a social program and moved to another state 2000 miles away. I have learned that adversity is good for me; and also that it is not good to drive while looking through the rear view mirror.
In 2003, the company for which I worked for 25 years went out of business. It was not easy starting over at 54 years of age in an economy recovering from the pain of "911". In my view, anxiety does not have to be a death warrant, nor does stress signal a terminal illness. On the contrary, they may well be a warning for us to 'kick it' into another gear.
02242017 PS Contest, Anxiety, Lewis Raynes
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2017
Of my life it’s been four long years of never-ending trips to the facility, you name it, in and out and up and down and over.ARGUMENTS? Don’t get me started. Every doctor and nurse on the planet. Wages war with my attempts at keeping you alive.BONY your hand was, and FOUL your British mouth. Demanding you acted and entitled calling everyone a yellow *****.
“Do this not that and see that it’s done properly!”NO HELP. That’s what I got for my thankless job of rescuing your sorry ass out of the
gutter they called Rehabilitation on Riverside Drive.SALVATION. I saved your sorry self. I fought off your greedy nieces. I dove into Hell
and pulled you out. And now finally…FOUR YEARS LATER, at the nursing home, ninety minutes after they found
your body lying cold on the floor they called me. “We were unable to resuscitate her.”
PENNILESS.MONEY SPENT. So went their service.DEAD NOW. At last, I breathe and call the Executor.PARACHUTING! That’s what he called it, what he was doing out of town. Couldn’t assume responsibility. Couldn’t do what he promised the de-thronged former Gramercy Park Club President.
LEFT out in the cold. That’s what I was. My name as back up executor.RELEASE the body. That’s what I told the nursing home, that’s what I told the
funeral director.GREEDY BASTARDS. It’s what I thought when they said I didn’t plan for poll bearers
or music at the service. CALLED THEM OUT ON IT. Called the whole God damn world out on it. And I rose
and took over.STELLAR is what you looked like lying in that coffin. They did a bang up job making
it look as if you were well, and on the way to the Opera or a party at the Grammy’s and jewels looked real enough. It was as if you had stepped into the coffin and passed out cold from too much champagne, remember when you did that?
ARDUOUS AND CUMBERSOME were the services where the six good looking actor
poll bearers carried your coffin and stood while Mother and I, the only one’s
there, sat through the service in the Cathedral. NEVER ENDING is what the ride seemed like as I drove out to nearly the Hamptons,
Nearly in Calverton.QUICK was the service there. They don’t pay as much homage to the wives of sailors.
RELIEVED is what I felt when I left and finally came home.
UNLOVED BY LIFE. You delighted in torturing people.
Copyright © Richard Smiraldi | Year Posted 2014
We may have won the battle, but they never fought the war.
we are living in a rose tinted nation,
Trying to live up to our own declarations.
Avoiding participation in our own rehabilitation.
Yet we still choose depression as our safety station.
We surround ourselve with distorted imagery.
Illusions and delusions of how we ought to be.
Fighting for democracy and unrealistic dreams of equality.
yet racism still a well known philosophy.
We place our goals just within our reach.
We use empty books to educate and teach.
We memorise our perfect speech, tick the box 'donate to aid relief'.
Yet obesity is our number one retreat.
We follow the rules on how to behave .
Make notes of what and to whom we gave.
Pray to god and you will be saved, for all our sins he did forgave.
yet a mortgage pays for the tombstone on our grave.
Our eyes have closed in this rose tinted nation.
As the economy rose we sacrificed our identification.
Lost our salvation in the walls of our self built concentration.
And we pity them with their lack of complication.
Copyright © Gillian Hewitt - Stubbs | Year Posted 2011
Pains and sorrow,
Voices roars in the air,
Booming of a gun,
Thou shall not kill,
Not in their dictionary.
The tussle for power,
Shattered and scattered roads,
Fears in the mind,
Humans on the race,
Tears drop means nothing,
Generations' gone and more still going.
Hunger at its peak,
Animals go into hiding,
Great leaders taken to the
Faded land by death.
Fathers(soldiers) shoot other children's father,
Darkness at its peak,
Voices without sound yearning for peace,
Peace to weak to stand.
The struggles without end fears peace,
War on seeing peace sighs.
From behind it came like a bomb, bum,
Their flag bears peace,
To promote internal co-operation,
Bring nations together,
At last we can shake one another hands.
Nations assisting nations,
Peace and security at its peak,
Promoting human rights,
And fostering all-round development,
A better world for you and me,
And education aids peace,
The UNESCO came on board through it,
And paved way for education,
Reducing the illiterate in the world.
Brought Africa to lime light,
Gave rise to educated ones,
Breaking the barriers in Nigeria education,
What seems increasingly difficult was made easy,
Nigeria now boasts of educated ones,
It made Alvan what it is today,
I am a beneficiary,
Hmm! How do we appreciate the UN?
Copyright © Victory Udochukwu Ferdinard | Year Posted 2016
For every month of March in every year
For every month of March in every year
Of course marks days to my renaissance
Refurbishment, metamorphosis, rejuvenation
Every day of my life is never a dearth
Virtues are ample in each of them
Even I befriend and I reciprocally befriends
Revelation, rehabilitation are fine things
Yes that usually surround most of my day
Moment by moment I sense reasons and purposes
Of why precious is my being to this land of living
No matter coma, the what though
Till now that not all envisage comes to pass
Happy I am for those ones that come to pass
Of every month that revolves the year, aside
Full moon counts, is my month of April
Mind loves sharing the joy of half of that month
At least with hearts and eyes that give succor-
Roommates, family members, friends near and far
Comportment in consternation, plus compensation
Have to be my compilation till that day departures
It's in my day, meant to set aside by me
Nay, all day stand and bring the best to me
Even at work that I'll always be occupied by
Visitor's wants and needs, and by colleagues' things…
Elders' summon demanding full attention to their plights
Resting intermittently with siesta and dusk
Yes, all of these are pertinent and need to be orchestrated
You see when I tell you I do have time, not to check time...
Etching some of the things I believe will guest and best me
Anywhere, everywhere ...all times, so long as the world continues to live
Relics too relevant to living -the leader, the lead- will the encomium me be
Copyright © Abdulhafeez Oyewole | Year Posted 2014
A couple of years later, at age 19, this farm girl married and, true to her Catholic
upbringing, began having children. She had four live births and four miscarriages over the course of less than seven years, long before the idea of “post-partum” depression was even a gleam of understanding in anyone’s mind. After the birth of her fourth child, a girl who would grow up to study environmental sciences and eventually draw the correlation between that first atomic explosion and her mother’s first episode of mental, emotional and physical distress, that infant had to be taken by her aunt and uncle to care for lest she perish from failure to thrive because by this time, mom was so deeply depressed, she was unable to care for her newborn.
In those days there was no such thing as mental health care, no understanding at all of how to nourish the brain or detox the body from the effects of poisons and radiation…for indeed these advances are only recently gaining traction and still only in the realm of “alternative health care”. With no understanding of her condition, or of what would even constitute appropriate care, her state of mind and body continued to deteriorate. After more than one suicidal episode and losing her children to foster care while she entered a treatment and rehabilitation facility, she was eventually diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic and manic-depressive, giving her husband sufficient justification to divorce her and blame her parents for not telling him that she was mentally deficient before he married her. Even the Catholic Church agreed and granted an annulment of the marriage that produced his four live children and four miscarriages while he served in the Air Force and left her to care for his children while he was away for years at a time overseas on unaccompanied assignments. But nevertheless, the marriage was officially annulled so that he could marry again sanctioned by the Church and his Catholic bride could continue to take unholy communion in mass.
Copyright © Linda Witt-King | Year Posted 2010
I remember the first time I met her
It was at the orphanage.
I was going through rehabilitation
after running away for what
turned out to be last of many times
I was a lifer.
Who wants to adopts fourteen
year old boys?
Apparently no one.
She was assigned as my counselor
I don't think I have
ever seen anyone as beautiful as her.
That lovely angelic face.
Oh! her smile,
it was like sunshine.
Unsure of how to address a Nun
I always called her Ma’am.
She did not seem to mind
Her heart was full of kindness
I was hooked.
I think that was when I realized
she was the only friend I had.
What I did not know was
I was falling in love with her.
That confusing rite of passage
from Boyhood to Manhood
left me dazed and confused.
Or perhaps I just needed
someone to love.
I have never seen
as much kindness
before or since.
It flowed from her
She stopped me
from running away again,
and taught me
how to read books
by important authors.
To learn poetry
and to talk about
At this point I knew
for sure I loved her.
She took me to
the mission where
the homeless lived
and we served
in the free kitchen.
I would have followed
her to the moon
She was relocated
after a couple of years.
To a mission in Africa.
I was desolate
Begging to go with her.
I even asked her to marry me.
She smiled and said
if she was free
she would marry me
in a heartbeat.
But she explained gently
to my young heart
that she was already
married to her faith.
Showing me her gold ring.
She whispered see
I am a bride of Christ.
She died a few years later
her letters stopped coming
It was a bout of malaria
that took her.
Now when I feel
alone or sad.
I open an old shoe box
that I kept from
And I re-read her
stacks of letters.
one by one.
Always in the order
that she sent them to me.
And as usual
I feel warm and safe again.
Copyright © Jude Kyrie | Year Posted 2015
A celestial play
Old folks home
In distant suburbs;
Moon cake festival
Chinese mid-autumn moods;
A lovers' tryst
Chinese medicine man
Consult for pain remedy;
Acupuncture and heat
Fresh air after rain;
Fiery tempers flare;
Sundry shopping list
So much to buy;
Procure a helper first
Stray mongrel barks
Empty park bench;
Beyond word sculptures;
Old couple smile and nod
Windy evening air
Morning wake-up call
Promptly at six;
Awake to awake others
Posh hotel facility;
Empty of faces
Crowded sea of faces;
Rush hour pandemonium
In this big crowd
So many faces;
Yet each feels alone
A happy toast
Music from odd era;
Memory lane buzz
Pretty girl glides
Male eyes stare
04 September 2014
Copyright © Leon Enriquez | Year Posted 2014
Across The Universe
Life’s tapestry had brought me from the rugged Welsh Coast
to ‘Egoli’ The City Of Gold’ a place of dreams in South Africa
I wished for so much and so little just heal from the weight
of black dogs on my shoulders and a soldiered out mind
Everything in tatters the mosaic torn fragments dishevelled
black batik on the canvas sexy lace far from realistic realm
With the Sun God watching me in rehabilitation from booze
and delusion I painted love in the soil with Jacaranda petals
A purple display of what could not have been foreseen as
some ‘inmate’ before me had dressed up wish’s desperation
Her heart on the lawn in those petals in an innocent message
across and upon the Universe made match and soul’s mate
Colour and passion drew us together a beeline without
knowing what was what who was who just knowing it was
Sharing and caring 'The Little Prince' Leonhard Cohen Bach’s 'Illusion'
'Alice’s Restaurant' drawing like magnets joined desire miracle love
New fires exploding a tsunami of feelings trust intuition and magic
one string with two puppets from heaven we went to the movies
‘Across the Universe’ anti-establishment and melodious Beatles
orchestrated sizzling fingers embraced hands and hearts together
Christmas Day almost a decade ago and still going we eloped
together best friends lovers and no idea of the journey before us
That less trodden path gifted us divine bliss and gave us that most
unconventional Christmas present we longed for so much and so long
23rd December 2016
Copyright © Kai Michael Neumann | Year Posted 2016
Brains excreting pictures
"Chia Pet Poets"
exploring emotional trade winds
for SIX minutes
for SIX hours
grins hidden deep
beneath booger eyelids
wipe clean morning's green sleep
disappearing dried dreams
wetting the head
freeing sick insecurities
since haunted childhood
frozen within vaults
SIX feet thick
wrecking ball rehabilitation
cannot promise demolition
diffusing demon whispers
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
What is mind thought determination?
It is the sophisticated thoughts of a individual wit self-taught mental sophistications.
It is the chemical mind thought process brain inspirational enhanced created word creations.
It is the one thought that keeps your hopes from being eliminated by your own weak minded self-doubt double eliminations.
It is the the thought that can turn your own pains into pleasure of our own sensified sensations.
It is the thought that can turn you into a leader of tis lost generation to inspire my reservation and maybe even in others parts of this nation to get your own redemptive vindication of those who took away your aspirations.
THIS WORLD IS YOURS FOR THE TAKNG.
Mind thought determination is for your embracing not to be forsaken,
you are your own movie in the making, let not your hope in the mind be shaken.
MIND THOUGHT POWER over all tis senseless hating, we got to stop all our senseless
chasing, you are forever a leader in this free world racing.
If you locked up it don't matter how much time that you facing.
INCARCERATION IS JUST A MIND THOUGHT METAPHOR FOR SELF-INFLICTED IMPOSED LIMITATIONS.
It is the thought to use what is against you and turn your hateration into inspiration.
IMPRISONMENT or EMPOWERMENT the choice is yours REINCARNATION over REHABILITATION.
My mind has but one destination of all mankinds fascinations .....and that is to finally use my MIND THOUGHT DETERMINATION.........
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
Where I eat, you ate there; where I rest, you rested
we share the same navigation through our similar steps
and that part of me so classified
became an open coverage to you.
In the shores of my privacy, I’ve given you an equal right
I’ve showered you with unparalleled privileges
allowing you to travel extreme corners not needing a pass
and staying actively in control because you have my license.
Oh my dangerous dear
my trust and openness are your weapons
I never knew freedom in the world of another gives so much power.
Your lips have connected the world to my confidentiality
and such criminal hands possessed by your vicious mind
has placed me in the middle of a multiple trap dungeon.
Despite our close physical proximity, we’ve been oceans apart
that is how it’ll remain as soon as I survive your conspiracies.
The heart suffers an illness, when an enemy is made from a loved one
but life’s varieties include both training and rehabilitation centers
with the conviction my pieces will undergo a cosmetic perfection
to stay strong with the defenses of caution.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
A sweet grain
Softly tasted upon my life
Turned over in my body
To enhance, increase, its longevity
Beginning to dissolve
Wishing it’d stay
A small taste lingers
The memory of deliciousness escapes
A craving formulates
A need, a want, an essential
This time it’s different
One grain is not enough
A more fulfilling amount is needed
To sate my hunger
An addiction forms
Repeated actions and results
Until the resource disappears
In the end rehabilitation
Relapse shifts life
The bliss outweighs consequences
Its flavor engulfs me
Unable to escape this love
Copyright © Jillian Veitenheimer | Year Posted 2012