~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gus was a nut-hoarding squirrel obsessed with percussion,
whose tail thumped trees in manic succession.
He woke the whole wood with a clamorous rap~
till oak limbs collapsed mid-acorn-attack!
Gus grinned wild providing rhythmic-induced concussions.
How Do You Feel?
I don’t feel great on any given day,
I know that’s not a too great thing to say,
but were you in my shoes, you’d understand, I’m sure
because I’m cursed with something for which there is no cure.
Therefore, don’t ask someone, “How do you feel?”
The answer you get back might be too real -
leading to in-depth and boring discussions
like talking about the person’s concussions.
To ask how someone feels is just for a good friend
or siblings you know who’ll be there till the end.
But with anyone else you should simply say,
“Hello there. I hope that you feel well today.”
Jan. 23, 2023
for How Do You Feel Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose Rose
Dear football although the thrill of you brings me joy
I find it a struggle to be a normal boy
The repeated hits to the head have left me struggling to think
Even looking at the slightest sliver of light causes me to double blink
Sitting in class lost in my mind
wondering if football was even worth my time
Losing focus at nearly every word
Saying "huh" because your voice was not heard
Although I'm very proud to be a football player
I certainly wish the game was a bit safer
Vodka seems to be part of the Russians.
It's like order and structure for Prussians.
Vodka opens the mind,
but it makes one inclined
to fall over and suffer concussions.
How the Irish delight in their drink
is straightforward and touching I think.
Sean and Mary McGinnis
raise their glasses of Guinness,
and then gulp to oblivion's brink.
I’ve been told that the Finns take to boozing.
They love Kossu — a drink of their choosing.
This tradition is old
for in Finland it's cold,
so their habit can merit excusing.
slipping
when the wallpaper walks
and the floor
pulls the wind out of you
*saccades: a rapid movement of the eye between fixation points
(impaired, as with concussions, causes vertigo, anxiety, fatigue)
Bed.
Bedlam.
Bethlehem.
Chronic traumatic encephalopathy:
Something with football and clandestine
Conferences, like political campaigns.
Suicides just outside the bride's bridal shower,
Because of a concussion?
Numerous concussions? In London?
Perhaps it was rugby.
Poor groom, with blood across his tuxedo.
Poor bride, reeling at the sight.
This is Bethlehem, home of the hurt, the dead, and the insane.
Beds that are bedridden in a bedlam of Bethlehem.
There are no people. Only emptied guns across rotten sheets and old clothes.
It is not abandoned. It is simply uncared for.
Bottom of Totem Pole
Oh my gosh and do bless my soul
Someone is at bottom of totem pole
Then try to control way they vote
Making them become a scapegoat.
Are always rocks and a hard place
To find each difficulty we must face
All the obstacles and obstructions
Can possibly result in concussions.
So after much further inspection
We should go in a new direction
Follow two points with persistence
Straight line is the shortest distance.
Jim Horn
A walk in the rain
I took a walk in the rain today.
Looked down at wet pavement under my feet.
Not wanting to slip and fall.
Two concussions in a year was too much for me.
A brain bleed too, they called TBI
Then they call it Post-Concussion Syndrome
When the ears keep ringing, head keeps pounding and spinning.
I sigh.
I didn’t like their idea of resting the brain.
No writing, no reading, no phone or TV.
Not able to think?
Almost a place of nothing
Except what to see.
I kept on walking in the rain today.
I kicked some acorns out of my way
Like regrets I have inside, to be gone.
My dog kicked off her rain coat.
I guess today, she felt the same.
Now her fur is wet like my hair.
I guess today we both didn’t care.
Heidi Sands
Feel the winds of change, dear friend,
They are a blowing.
Brethren beneath a common cause,
Kindred spirits, gather united.
To stand tall against opposing
Factions,
Yet we remain strong survivors,
Of justice and right.
Adversity challenges indifference,
It is so written good shall over,
Come evil.
The truth within us all shines,
Humanity achieves enlightenment.
Ignorance shadow fades in
Reality's view,
Life relishes difference,
Freedom flies soaring mankind,
Towards a higher plain.
What a magnificent future,
Lies ahead of us.
Individuality blossoms, fulfillment,
Becomes a human right.
Forgiveness, compassion, and mercy,
Shall be theirs at last.
Let no mans options to believe,
Dismay conscious choice,
Carry the banner of beliefs no matter,
What the cost or price.
Your inner self reflection captures,
Truths mirror image.
Acknowledge separate half's,
Making one complete being.
Behold his name is called,
Social exceptions.
Resolves concussions shows a,
Brilliant phoenix rising,
From hatred's ashes.
It spreads deliverance’s wings,
Embracing a majestic legacy.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Physician’s convictions to poison their patients,
Procedures with Ether, cold X-Ray stations
A thousand scans in milligrams,
Lobotomies and Amputations…
Surgeries to transform me,
Imperfections to augment
Blood Transfusions, concussions, contusions-
For just a small improvement!
Sing, sing my soul
floods of turmoil and whirlpool lyrics.
Spill, spill the concussions that make me ill
emotions entangled, woven badly strings sticking.
Terribly moving turning roughly, screaming loudly
for attention to attend to tears tearing a heart bleeding.
Crimson walls smiling dearly, there is sunshine.
Hope hoping to love completely: entirely.
Soft my gentle hand touching holding feeling.
Clasping shattered pieces beautiful frown of mine.
Whispering division of mind to dominate,
strength rains complete and warm
building in the thoughts so selfish reminding that
tears dry quickly in the sun.
Written by: Missty
A constant dream of a separate reality where you are in a high
The world is at your feet and you feel like you can fly
The pressures of a pleasure that you never want to lose
A mix of emotions that are never yours to choose
Feeling like it will take away your pain
That is the greatest feeling of a world with cocaine
But when the time comes there will be repercussions
That will leave you with untimely concussions
A failure with your heart that will leave you so low
Now all you will ever feel is a very hard blow
A stroke in your brain can make you go insane
You will be the only one to hear yourself complain
Cocaine is an addiction that you will never want to stop
And it will make you nothing but a raggedy old mop
So if you don’t end that annoying vain strife
All you will ever become is a brainless low life
Ignore those thoughts of surrendering to despair
Because if not, soon you will take your last breath of air
M o T e L
Blinking from my bedroom
Streets filled with unknown endings
The world outside screaming neon questions
Behind dirty sheets and peeling paint
Gasoline scents the air with turquoise perfume
Butterflies dance in my head from too many concussions
Sirens wail at midnight, selling news print by day
Friends pass by whispering, only ringing in my ears
In the distance…still blinking
M o T e L
Miles....cross rivers oceans and seas
mankind bleeds
our own....caught up
placed in bodybags
" somebody is overlooking us "
tears flooding our streets
screams echoing
" That's Enough "
" somebody is overlooking us "
Abomination, destruction, poverty
madness leaking into our water streams
Poison attached to our food supply
Addiction scatching at the surface
poverty camped out by our back door
" somebody is overlooking us "
children hypnotized by deception
as if they fell hard
causing concussions
rude, disrespectful
growing without direction
forgeting where they came from
" somebody is overlooking us "
diseases spreading like wildfire
bathing in the devils creation
making it hard to breathe
" wake up " society
before we drown in
rivers, oceans and seas
pulled under by life's destruction
" somebody is overlooking us "
Oh, watch the people of the pen work! The writer has picked it up, inspired and ready to
write the next great novel!
The little people rush to the gears to make sure the ink flows smoothly, while the
grunts work at the ballpoint. They roll the ball along while the masterpiece is being
crafted, but will be filthy in black ink when they go home to their wives.
An air bubble has formed! The owner left it in the car overnight and the ink froze,
letting air in. They rush to get the ink going, but an earthquake has erupted! The owner
violently shakes the pen and they are unable to get to their stations to fix the
catastrophe. The little people begin to collapse from concussions due to the shaking,
and it seems the ink will never flow again. Wait, there it goes! No, false alarm. That
was just a tiny glob of ink.
The shaking then stopped and the pen is thrown into the garbage like half-eaten food,
scooped up kitty litter, and first drafts. The plant has been shut down. What will the
little people tell their wives?
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