Two of the most profitable enterprises of mankind:
War and disease {natural or otherwise).
These are what drives politics and policies.
That's why wars will forever be
why cures for disease are all but extinct.
Another enterprise has arrived -population control.
See numbers one and two above for further clarity.
"Bpd"
My legs are falling off
Ripping from my body
My eyes are melting
"ADHD"
My head
It will explode
Don't you see?
"Manic Depressive, Manic Episodes?"
This disease it is me
It laughs it shrieks
My blood vessels have branded
Into themselves
Into my soul
It's Memory
"Bipolar."
"Mood swings. Anxiety. Try this medication please"
Straight jacket laugh
Writhe against my restraints
I have buried
That girl
In the ashes of yesterday
Still
The cage is iron not steel
Strong enough
Weak enough
I will never heal
Paranoia, a sly stealthy disease
Fells men as tall and as massive as trees
Tiny fears in their minds
Unravel, leave behind
The rattle of what was once a fresh breeze
He looked at me, eyes dull and cold,
“What the hell are you doing here?”
And just like that-my heart caved in,
Shattered by the words I feared.
I had come with love in trembling hands,
A daughter needing something small-
Just a soft goodbye, a crack of light,
But he built another wall.
I stood there stunned, not sure to speak,
Not sure if he even saw
The child behind my grown-up face
Still reaching through the flaw.
I wanted to scream, I’m your daughter,
I’m here because I care,
But his voice was sharp, and full of fire,
And none of that was there.
I tried to make sense of his anger,
Was it pain that made him blind?
Was it cancer eating through his words,
Or the damage in his mind?
Cirrhosis, Hep C, too many wounds-
They stole the man I knew.
And maybe somewhere deep inside,
He missed me coming through.
But all I have are those last words,
They echo in my chest-
Not “I love you,” not “thank you,”
Not even “I wish you the best.”
And still I wonder, every night-
If he’d been without his disease-
Would he have instead changed
His final words to me?
As yellow leaves wither in the autumn breeze,
only apathetic thoughts remain
in this nonchalant existence of
my diseased body and over the hill mind!
It reminds me a time of agility,
A time of struggle and celebrations,
An age when dreams of a better future bloomed,
And leaping up those stairs to pluck the petals of success.
The illusion of youth, believing I would remain the same forever,
My beauty, once admired by the mirror,
My body, that lied about its boundless strength,
And the willpower that upheld my beliefs!
Now, my poor mind, dreadfully distressed,
on the fritz of my worn body parts.
Here I am, at the dusk of my life,
panting and staring at the steep stairs
called ‘rest of my time’!
I wonder, are there any tears left
to cry over the memories of my vigorous days?
Or, has time swallowed even the sorrow, leaving only silence?
How many women here
have been impregnated
by Elon Musk? looking for hands
He plans to repopulate the planet
single handedly - well, not handed
exactly - you know what I mean.
In Australia, great swaths of Texas,
and of course Mar-a-Lago, he’s a serial offender,
because his sperm is legal tender.
Factoid: you might catch a disease,
he’s sleeping with everyone north of Belize
and several of them, frankly, look sleazy.
Of course, you’d have to listen to him talk. shivers
Unless you say, “Hey, can we do this without conversation?”
That’s when you’d slip on your sleep mask, and, well, you know.
But what would you be thinking about?
.
.
FUN! by KiNG MALA [E]
BLOODONTHETIMBS by Bren Joy [E]
A strange disease is rolling coast to coast
and leaves its victims on their knees in fog.
The weaker mind feels the affliction most;
next, those with an affinity for grog.
Some say a brain worm fled the campaign trail;
some say that it arose from rotting meat.
The latter likely seems an old wives’ tale;
what’s true: synaptic clefts are incomplete.
Although causation’s not precisely known,
research identified a common thread.
The circuits in the retina are blown;
instead of orange, all are seeing red.
For those who trust their government and seek
a vax, one should be ready late next week.
I wrote a Monoku about bamboo and Zen ~ found it fun, and then
I was totally obsessed with writing more ~ so I wrote twenty-four
monokumania is a disease ~ with rhyming end words ~ yes, please
seventeen syllables per line ~ if you get addicted, it's a sign
that you have been infected, for sure ~ it's contagious and there's no cure
* Credit to David Kavanagh for the word-Monokumania.
Your faces i see when i close my eyes
Voices still heard in the summer breeze,
Gatherings curtailed by a floating disease,
Poisoned air that we all breathed.
All things stopped except time itself,
Onward it went causing dissent and strife,
Everything aged memories to fade away,
Will we have time to gather again some day.
Andrew Mcintyre 19/03/2024 .
A tumour abated alters and waits.
Pathway incised, a new one it makes.
Spreading and forming, roots growing down.
The moment’s now here, a mighty rebound.
Battle exhausted, the bones ache and crack.
The units expended; yield to the plaque.
Inquiry, anger, negotiations above.
But the body is weakened, aching and done.
“I’m sorry - I’ve tired - but failed in my plight.”
“Nonsense, my son, no fighting tonight.
No orders, no mission, nor failure to bare.
Just love from your father, of that I do swear.”
Dead now, but living. Eyes open, but grey.
Pallid and wasted, a ghost in but name.
A horror unyielding, a memory maligned.
Of which we endure, for moments of time.
Hurtful words followed by deriding deeds.
There is no escape, there is not an out.
How to handle the necessary needs?
I fear for our sanity, I have doubt.
Moods swinging from serene to confusion.
There is no escape, there is not an out.
Moments remembered, then self-delusion.
Cherish the memories, and times lucid.
Moods swinging from serene to confusion.
Conversing in language not pellucid,
a notion there is something important.
Cherish the memories, and times lucid.
Kindness offsets the often discordant.
Compassion and patience oft rewarded,
a notion there is something important.
Recognition a blessing awarded.
A cruel disease within humankind.
Compassion and patience oft rewarded.
Jeckyll and Hyde terrorizing a mind.
It's three in the morning - the grave silence breaks my soul,
the glass on the coffee table is empty,
obliviously I water my soul, it will bloom too.
Some birds are chirping in my chest - they sound like cuckoos.
Old stories bequeath the saying that when they cry,
they shed tears that heal all diseases.
You have my voice that sings
My eye’s that love to see
My heart beating when it believes
My hand writing poetry of what should be
My steps walking boldly thinking of thee
My minds consumption of
vast amounts of time
My work that tries providing
Any attention that I can find
A victim of love
Happily and sadly am I
I am like Samson
Believing every lie
Being like Romeo
I’d surely die
What a substance is love
As reachable as the sky
With fears and rejection
That might cause my demise
My childish suffering
This disease called shy
Yet monotheistic my soul
Itself cries
Day after day this feeling
Will not die
Only one half of what
God says am I
Could you go with us,
My God and I
Could you put your hand under my thigh
Let me promise before I die
The climb of the mountian
That reaches your sky
Can anyone die of sadness
Like a disease feasting on life from inside
I wish and wonder often
When will these blues come to the shore to drown me finally
Why am I a weightless cloud staying afloat still
Drastically heavy with rain of pain
Darkness is my sanctuary
where emptiness is my only friend
No matter, night or day
I am a prey
To numbness - which leaves me astrayed
I know no language to talk to my demons here
Because my words are exhausted
So I want to rest forever
and forget everyone's names
Will God care enough to embrace me, when no one else did?
~Ayesh
Relinquishing thought form crutch,
feel Holy Spirit by touch,
for mind’s but a tool to use,
that’s now become our sole muse.
Opt for silence as a dare,
to become of truth aware;
the truth of what our soul is ~
God’s living light, drenched in bliss.
We must allow stillness time,
before we hear God’s love chime
but it is well worth the wait,
to get thus to heaven’s gate.
When the outer world recedes,
ego withers and love leads
and we reclaim inner light,
heart suffused with bliss delight.
There is nothing to be done,
since we truly are the sun
and once thought clouds drift away,
we see the truth, clear as day.
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