Best Retardation Poems
**Back smile/smile Back **
With your heads way up your :]ssa[:
You will never accomplish the win
I got shots that will protect me from your rabid ways
After you fell into a non-stop falling disease,
Your movements weakened
Straight from a dried up well,
Every day you frolic in a disorder that causes more brain damage
With progressive mental retardation
You continue to lick the top of your cleft lips
He is the saddest sadist human that ever lived!
So sad he has to live with himself every night
Kissing his young ones Goodnight
In ways I can't even breathe to tell
The way he follows rabbits down the bunny hole
Killing each laughing hare
Wiping smiles, leaning in,
The madness in Alice's Wonderland
Madder and Madder The Hatter
Revealing
Your boldness is nothing more than baldness
A man in a monkey suit
Molesting the minds of his idiotic circle,
Trying to kill the joy, not knowing
We don't care about his false Harvard WAY
I rather stay here dropping out, than pretending
Following his made-up perception, a cropped out waste
His taste, my best copypaste, he jacked on
A stench, they left behind when open mouths laugh
He educates by attacking women better than his own
Silently to the top of his knife, he stalks nakedly
Removing a few poems he plagiarized
His Poorness, brought many to donate to the salvation of his army
Sadness Delivered by the Joy Killing Poet and his little pigs
Cross My heart and hope to die!!!
~SKAT~
I listen to the waves sighing,
like words seized from the weary,
an island that trembles
to the tune of every tide forged
with artificial aquamarines,
like accolades articulated
with aesthetic lies,
misleading the mindless,
ridiculing the rhythm,
as if we are all blindfolded ~
bleeding ballads of the broken,
borrowed from buried poets,
still breathing amidst their demise…
But if only they knew:
imageless imitation never
impressed the Imagists,
the ones who care
not for rhyme’s retardation ~
that sounds like absolute absurdity.
So tonight, as I write
with granite and garnet,
I long for perfumed light
to school the manipulated rules,
claiming to know it all,
sitting in their emptiness,
unaware of neither
what’s right nor wrong.
I am the unblemished;
I breathe not illusions
embalmed with poison.
I am original ~
a word that no longer is present
in the dictionary of the deceitful…
I see you every morning
skipping on your way to work,
a mundane task for anyone
but not you, it being your release
from your world of simplicity
and retardation.
I’ve often wondered what
goes through your mind, as
you search for the faces that
fit the scurrying movements
of your work mates, as they
dart about like misty forms
before your fragile eyes, your
unenviable task of groping for
your blue dot, it being the
prominent feature on your
clock card. It is easy to feel pity
for you, but not I, it is envy of
your simple ways, in this, an ever
increasing pressurised world,
because you’re always the same,
no matter what equations these
precarious days throw at us all.
Mathew, your gift is unique,
If one only had the time to ponder.
© Harry J Horsman 2020
A bedroom should be pleasant
a place where futures are conceived
where wonderful dreams in their effervescence are woven and believed.
when dreams aren't loved, supported and nurtured,
they are cast aside along with the future.
weeds now grow instead of flowers,
rhapsodies of life to be,
has lost all of its wondrous powers.
it is at that time the bedroom is changed.
where windows once stood with freedom's form.
steel bars are now in the window frame and
the factory for dream weaving has been transformed.
the mill of fabrics has been shut down,
the thread has dry rot and can not bound.
there will be no more sewing of seams,
for love is dead, and so are the dreams.
imaginary, ha you think so?
steel bars of betrayal, oppression & humiliation ....
believe me because I know.
imaginary... ha.. you think so?
steel bars of heartache, tyranny, anguish and disbelief .....
believe me because I know.
imaginary ... facsimiles .... replicas.....
do you believe these steel bars not to be true ?
they are there ..... believe me, i'll give you a clue.
bedroom walls which could tell many tales,
now bleed and cry.
smashing freedom as do all jails,
with its boarders wondering why?
a million pieces of devastation...
dreams of love are now only mutilations.
a retardation of two hearts and souls.
hearts once joined are now at opposite poles.
so the bedroom turns from a happy place to sad.
with bars of steel that are eternally had.
bars of steel that destroy and breed hatred.
bars of steel that satan deems sacred.
victory can be gained over those bars of steel.
to conquer that demon, love must prevail.
dream dreams of love,
and sew with the strongest of thread.
weave your fabric of love,
the dream mill must be started again.
make room in your heart, soul and head......
for the dream weaver........................
the dream weaver returns triumphant again!
Do you know what it means to be mental?
Of course not! We all just stare and criticize those who can't think for themselves.
Nor do we lend a helping hand.
We just stare and criticize.
We all know they don't have the same mental capacity! But cut 'em some slack!
It's not their fault that they were born like or developed like that.
Everyone can criticize on a blind man or a mentally ill person but when it's time to talk
to that man that can see and speak clearly we never criticize or talk back!
This is a very touchy subject don't you think?
Please, I beg of next time you see someone that can't speak clearly or looks like they
belong on the rode with clowns just ask yourselves, " What if that were me? Would I want
people staring and calling me names? "
No one should get hurt because of their disabilities, nor should anyone think that they're
better than the next because the Lord created us EQUALLY.
poem on Mental Retardation
My lateness once more has caused me immediate damnation,
and my unstable state, a product of my lost attention.
Overcoming the limitation by doing three person's work at once
resulted to a failed manipulation
of compressing minutes' activities into seconds
just to beat time and achieve punctuality.
Reaching for the door with already aggravated emotions.
In self caution, I knew something was still missing
then I realized it's a stuff I cannot go without.
Oh My God! This means, beginning all over again.
A complication I most feared in a situation like this.
My dwelling place now seem a mansion
as even my bedroom has undergone exaggeration
which at this moment isn't as accommodating
as the habitation I once knew.
Starring at the plain surface of the mirror Table gave no answers
and already praying for the fruitful termination of this trying time,
as I searched among the cosmetic items it harbours.
My next location is obviously the wardrobe
and even with the intense frustration
I was still calm enough to suppress the friction with myself
as I searched each and every pocket of my clothing
which are all hanging in straight vertical position.
And yet, my state gradually reaching exacerbation,
cos' there is no answer.
In milliseconds, my Pillows are in two corners of the room
I prayed for any sort of temptation but not this
as the bed calmly accepts my aggressive search
of my item which suffers an ungodly abduction.
The Investigation continues with a quick scan through my shoes,
and finally leaving the room with no appreciation
which now looks like a ghetto market of a third world country,
a demotion I usually never allow, not until now.
The larger sitting room just increased my retardation
having hope of finding my "Precious" would be mere hallucination
so therefore, I barely did much other than a mere Inspection.
Yet, cannot find its location,
which simply increased the heap of burning coal on my head.
Already tired of exclaiming several holy Indignation
careful flash back and calculations of my previous movements
yielded no results.
"check the Double Seater" was my last thought.
And as I acted in submission to that command,
the invaluable material surprisingly fell off my shirt
My Car Keys!
Stupidity is the new trend, The new merchandise everyone is buying
It's something not just teens but adults have adopted
It's this idea that if you're the stupidest person in the room
You're the coolest person in the room
It bugs me that this disease, this infection, this sickness
Has spread its viruses into everyone's head but mine
Everywhere you go there are trash like humans , Humans that are just parasites, they take all they can and never retrieve the favor,
I thought Newt Gingrich's idea of colonizing the moon was stupid
It was something thought up by a child with mental retardation
But now I would love to colonize the moon and please let me be the first one there, so that I can get away from the horrible, menacing, idiotic, pathetic wastes of life forms that we have branded with the name humans
I have given up all hope in humanity, for a long time I've known
That humanity sucks and I lost faith in it long ago
But there was still this little, minuscule, petite gleam of hope
That maybe just maybe humanity would realize its mistakes
And at least attempt to fix them but no I was proven wrong
Now that bit of hope has left my body, it has been extinguished
So **** you humanity and suck my cock
Have fun killing this world and each other with your immense stupidity
Deflected, crushed by the social retardation,
Not loved, ‘cos he’s altogether unaccepting,
Active learning the robot’s mouth action,
So he can't contextualise, there’s no blessing.
Neither me nor him meet and we sweep by,
There’s no connection from his ANDs and ORs,
Only citadels to weather the reactive cry,
When my nouns are pocketed by many cursors.
Where’s the memory bank and why the chat?
The bus is long gone and I'm open, vulnerable,
There’s no room for social construction’s mat,
To yield identity’s dynamic, recursive turntable.
Yes, microchips and logic gates shouldn't enable,
Machine learning at the cost of root foundations;
Your group, community, your niche and fable,
Ignite the necessary conversation of care situations.
Ok, so can we build a robot? A care robot?
Indeed care assistance is definitely reducible,
To only a small number of abstractions, clot,
‘Cos love does not evade the comprehensible.
Doors class as access, also pavements, steps,
Only three types of garments, two of people,
Friend or foe, but a cloud for certain parapets,
And who’s boss is said before, it's programmable.
Every day, my life has been filled with regret. I should've found true love somewhere in
America when I had that first chance. I regret being diagnosed with autism, mild MR
(mental retardation), and OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) at the age of three. I also
regret not having a real-life girlfriend from another state, especially the State of
California. It seemed that I had an unfair advantage or whatever. Of course, I had a
somewhat good childhood, but it was almost as messed up as someone else's. The only reason
why my life is filled with plenty of regret is because I was supposed to have a perfect
life. I was also supposed to get everything right, that would've included my childhood.
Now, instead of being rich beyond my dreams and being a college graduate, I'm stuck with a
boring life. And even though I have no girlfriend or no job as of right now, the ones from
my past, it's them that I really feel sorry for. And those girls from my middle school
years and my high school years, it's them that I feel so sorry for, too. It makes me sick,
just thinking about a lot of regrets. But what I really regret most of all is that I
should've done something a long time ago, but there's nothing I can do about my past; it's
already done. Right now, I wish that my life wasn't filled with regret and that I knew
what my life would be like if I was born perfect and that I were to walk in someone
else's shoes.
With the right of messianism,
And the depth of free will,
They journeyed to Bethlehem,
To hear the parents spill.
Zoroastrians true and ready,
Ripe for the monologue bold,
They offered gold and incense,
And on Mary’s story they were sold.
Called wise men, magicians,
They could interpret the land,
Jailing’s, fishing booms and births,
And so told people about their hand.
They knew the power of the stars,
The connection, their meaning,
So followed one to that lively abode,
Where Jesus lay with apparent feeling.
God did not appear to them,
By a star in vocality,
But they just gave cerebral relevance,
To that asteroid motioning entity.
The gifts they offered and gave,
Did not signify the incarnation,
But were considered gestures,
Of the magi’s visitation.
Their religion let them speak about,
The predicted life of the babe;
Prediction was their position and seat,
As at semiology they were abe.
Christianity did not come from Judaism,
Zoroastrianism was its predecessor,
As its followers searched for a messiah,
Every day, with such earnest vigour.
Christianity centres around a messiah,
A cultural saviour from social retardation,
Which Jesus was back them,
In a world of poor folks’ isolation.
Jesus was a Jew, a temple boy,
But proclaimed his own religion,
To follow him and not just the Torah,
Which was in no way old and gone.
The impact of these Zoroastrians,
On Israeli life and society,
Can only be understood,
As Christianity’s modernity.
Having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to every boy, girl, man, and woman, especially that of a three-year-old. It has made a positive impact on people who'd been born with or had been diagnosed with autism since day one. Being autistic means accepting for who he and/or she really is, especially when he or she's around a bunch of open-minded people. What everyone, including me, also learned about having autism is when we're living in our own worlds and the real world at the same time. Children, teens, and adults with autism can function in the real world, even in public places, especially when they're going to school or work. What I also learned is that people can go after their dreams like being a politician, a lawyer, or whatever, even if he and/or she has autism. God has made us the way we are, and I think that having autism has been the greatest thing that has ever happened to all of us, even when I was three years old. It doesn't matter if he and or she has either autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome, we're all still human. The whole world should know that being an autistic human being is great and no one should judge us just because we, as humans, have autism, autism spectrum disorder, or Asperger's Syndrome. The fact that day in and day out, for the past few years, people with autism, including me, have proven the board of education and those nay-Sayers wrong, even in the classrooms in all of the schools nationwide. Nothing could bring us down. Even though we have autism, we're still His children. The parents should be proud of the fact that they've raised us well, even if we have autism or any other disability. There's also a good chance of people getting into serious relationships and getting married, regardless of one person having autism. And if all of the friends and families have accepted them for who they really are, other people should be more accepting, too. I have autism, mild MR (mental retardation), and OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and I'm also proud of the fact that I'm still human.
When you look at these two
Without having any clue
They go close side by side
Sometimes in one, the other hide
Its only time that sets the apart
And you realize why you have been hurt
For love has no such a quick stride
But in time it brings things to bind
And in the shadow of love hides the other
Never willing to take things further
For love is quiet when the other is roaming
Seeking for honor, pleasure and attention
It’s funny after all its retardation
That Love is there to remain.
Pancholi Nandlal Kanjibhai's Home Feedback & Suggestions
Poems By Pancholi Nandlal Kanjibhai
Category Date
Imagination 14-01-07
Email
[email protected]
Chromosomes of creeds having been replete with
Seeds of retardation in turn breed more and
More mongoloids of ethnic obsessions, hence
Engineers of genetics may ponder over removal
Of pathogenic germs and the defective sperms
From the colloid of contemporaneity.
And after that an era of equanimity would dawn
Where science would have been made to dominate
Politics, eugenics meant to succeed restricted
Homogeneous breed, color hatred and racial
Discrimination dismissed as obsolete relics of
Primitive past, polygamy officially replacing
Monogamy, world government superseding
Neurotic nation states and the whole world
Becoming a family in this would be world
Nuclear arsenals will become irrelevant
I've heard that endings are for lunchtime, college careers and birthdays, Once they come around, they're wont be other times quite like them. I could feel your heart beat vibrating faster each time my hands made a movement to press against your waist, and then slowly silence itself as soon as our arms dressed each other like heavy winter coats. I could've sworn that narrow arms stretched long like highways & interstates; long enough to make you loose sight of custom made licence plates with letters that spell out nicknames. I remember my tire-treaded arms could wrap around your two-laned-traffic yellow dash marks so that you could feel the friction of protection keeping you just enough away from a head on collision. Bumps in the road and all; we always kept going straight. The path seemed endless, but I guess a rubberband heartbeat can loose it's elacticity without another set of arms to bounce back into. So I snapped back with both hands on the steering wheel before crashing dead into the reality you no longer wished for. Lord, I needed your direction. I just wanted to get my life back in the right lane, & it looked like using my father's shoes to accel and the yellow pages for a booster seat wouldn't cut it anymore, so I had to grow up and accommodate my life for a few years of extra leg room. Hit the ground running, move forward and don't give up can sometimes be premature reminders that you just got your licence to live your life again only but a few months ago, so don't rush into something you're not ready to reach for yet. Let your legs grow. Allow your heart to beat in the steps of a one-two rhythm again. Realize that knowledge is power, and free your mind from the slavery of hands twisting at your spinal cord, and words that whip you into emotional retardation. Tell yourself your value is weighted more than the trouble inside the baggage you carry. Take yourself out on a lunchdate. Graduate from one stage of living to the next. Have your birthday cake, cut out a slice for a loved one and then smash your face in it like a toddler would. Follow in your Creator's footsteps, and He will direct your path.
Enjoy the path ahead of you.
The future is in sight.
Boy,
When all is said and done
Like a mighty uncanny wind to by pass
Let it not be ever a whistle thereof
When in youth you sprout forth
And be a determined shoot
To avenge the wrath of retardation
And in the light walk right
Avenge boyish dreams
And cast away the dilemma of hangovers
The salted myths of the dozed off giants
Or the imminent fear of extinct volcanoes
Let the future afore be cast sane
Or like a sea ashore
Sands of time ashore to beckon
And be a poor boy plays pebble plays
Then avenge your avid desires
And mould them into a dream to reckon
A force that unrolls the planet a tune
Zigzagged ways pulled right
Akin to this
Passion to grab a life of your own
For in this there is no mountain!