Best Therapists Poems
"Everyone says they're tired,"
Said my couples therapist,
"That can't be the thing."
I was wonderstruck.
My approach was all wrong.
As it turned out
I had all the time in the world.
I was just spending it wrong, like
Singing the wrong song, or
Straining to see through a well-lit room.
My eyes are now open.
My melody true.
No longer will a minute be wasted,
No longer will any cracker or crumb go untasted.
I'll be there trimmed and frosted,
Never ill-tempered, and never exhausted.
I'm a dream for a therapist
Except I'm unable to express my pain in person, But on paper I have no issue with sharing it
I've battled depression for too long to hear "life is too short, you should cherish it"
There's so much going on in my mind, I'm a dream for a therapist
I don't talk in person, I Clam up
My heart is aching and my mind is bleeding
What's worse?, no reason to rhyme, or no rhyme or reason?
Say what you want about me, But when I make a mistake i hold my Hands up
I don't want to talk to a stranger about such and such
To hear, "as a child Alex, you weren't hugged enough
You didn't get love, because your parents needed to fill up their cups"
Because I'll lash out and say who are you to Judge my stuff?
What qualifies you to tell me how I should feel about what you haven't been through?
because you've got a certificate I'm supposed to just show all of me to you?
Sorry but that won't happen, i'm too guarded and that will never change
How can you claim to understand when you didn't feel my pain?
I refuse to open up to a stranger, I barely do it with people I know
I've got so much hidden, What I write on my pad is all I will show
There's stuff buried in my heart that will die with me that I don't want to share
I thought I was a therapists dream, but I'd actually be a therapists nightmare
Because my own behavioral issues,
and my own public political and economic issues,
follow my own vocal trauma communication concerns
and bad-health memories,
It seems my most effective management therapies
usually begin more cooperatively
more quietly spoken in vocal kindness,
and then move on to behavioral mindfulness
to focus on expressing active compassion,
as needed
and invited,
verbally and non-verbally.
If I can leftbrain need to articulate cooperative intent
and rightbrain feel compassionately active hope,
then healthier integral behaviors tend to follow
by seeking co-acclimation
in-between these self/other needs with co-arising feelings
affluently/effluently communing.
I do not conclude
from these experiences and memories
that behavioral therapies are misguided
or misdirected.
But, I do both want and feel
behaviors are non-verbally and verbally communicated,
with or without aggressive competitive intent,
and usually somewhere ambiguously in-between
interdependence and fragmentation,
regenerative and degenerating investments
spent and dynamically returning.
THERAPY’S THERAPEUTIC THERAPIST
Our poetry writing,
Is very therapeutic—
Healing all shared souls:-
Yes, poetry is God’s self-healing therapy;
Penning away depression with inspiration,
Fueled by our poetic words shared daily:-
Glory to God for all the shared sessions;
We healing with what’s said and read:-
Write on we poets,
We are God’s sent therapist—
Healing with the Word:-
What prayers may leave out,
Poetry will surely add it all in;
Quietly screaming its loud shout,
Streaming from Love’s inking pin:-
Yes, we’re therapists;
Treating with God’s healing words—
Poured from His cistern:-
I used to have epiphanies.
And the knowledge got used up and slapped me.
When I sat around in the waiting room?
I would wail while the old paintings turned out better than me.
I had another epiphany in that room.
And they screeched.
I don’t have a therapist anymore.
Wasted thorns.
Watered me down.
Even the old paintings in that waiting room…
Have more faith in therapists than me.