As I have wondered through the halls of old,
the minds of famous scribes in academia
had made me fearless, oft carelessly bold
when Mind betrayed lexical anaemia.
Soon baying at the Moon as it weeps,
a different view, depending on aspect.
The wisdom I crave inexorably seeps,
but seldom culminates into respect.
The misprision's become my badge of honour
as hyperbole swills in lexicon o’ Man.
Long years of uninformed populous dour
with magniloquent thinking that poetry can.
Yet I contemplate books in warehouse—
dyslexia transformed it into ‘wh…house’—
endless mirth that others could never douse.
For my entire life
I've always been on the brink
of annihilation.
A cold war child
a nuclear age child
petrified of being exposed
to the fallout, child
Under a wooden desk
covering porcelain neck
the unforgiving sirens.
Teachers yapping at us to keep our heads covered.
Seven years of age
stressed out by the alphabet
A thoroughly undiagnosed dyslexic
Why
would
people
criticise
a child’s best efforts
because he does not measure up
to their own abilities and twisted reasoning?
Learning disorders are not to be looked down on; instead, motivation is the key.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Maybe just maybe I am and always
have been an
Undiagnosed
Apoplectically archetypal orthodox
Dislexic
Who unfortunately tried to spell
it out to anyone willing to listen
But obviously my words came out
all mixed up and wrong
So I never made any sense whether
that was or be
Whether scribbled down profusely and
indiscriminately on paper
Or spoken word of mouth thinking
other's could follow my train of thought
Which I perceived to be a well thought
out intelligent engaging conversation
Only to find out later people were only
merely placating and appeasing me
Because the one thing and defining characteristic I did have going for
me and on my side
Was that I what and while I lacked
in certain regards and area's
I somehow made up for in charisma
and sense of humor which manifested
in the guise of likeability
And the reason I used to get away
with things I never should have been
able to
But hey if they wanted to assume and
presume that of me
And they themselves opened up that
avenue of excuse for me to abuse
Then why on on wouldn't I take full
advantage and prey upon it
I sold my soul to Santa,
but it's much too soon to tell.
If an everlasting Christmas
is preferable to hell.
Dyslexia
David J Walker
I recall
The wall
Of words
In jet black
waves
of ink
Invade
the innocence of
paper white
not quite
a page
Fear
Panic
terror
Rage
Other words
smother
like a thick
denim quilt
I hide within myself
lost
without a guide
a dance
into a trance
of knowing only
nothingness
Can't tie shoes. Can't read aloud. Can't memorize Latin.
IQ test, panic, shyness. Confidence goes missing.
A corner turned. Ask, and you will receive.
College, city planner, romance, graduation.
Paradise lost. War drums. "You are hereby ordered to report."
Fear and dread. Grab your guns. Invasion.
Many rockets fired, crashing all around.
Deliverance! Cheers on homeward flight abound.
"Baby killer! How justify?" Keep it secret. Don't fit in.
Ask, and you will receive. It all comes together.
Grad school, true love, and a career.
Wedding bells, children, grandchildren. Blessings astound.
Retirement: Spanish, softball, world travel. All a pure delight.
But time speeds up. No, we slow down. Sunset and aging.
Microsoft 7, 10 and 11.
Accounts, passwords, applications.
Patient portals, lab tests, hospitalizations.
Masks, shots and Covid-19.
Can't keep up. There's no time. Trouble remembering.
Anger, self-doubt, then frustration.
Ask, and you will receive. Rescued again.
True love comforts. Eternal Love sustains.
God bless ya, #Dyslexia,
my pseudo super power,
academically sucky,
but creatively lucky,
thou maketh some peeps tower.
This baby is being born with hardly a belly button the angel declared.
Yes, this is a special one sent to a family who is kind and understanding
It is not every parent who can raise a child like this one thus the button lack.
He is on the spectrum? Yes, a rainbow child, someone overly unique.
I have never seen another one.
How long have you been doing this?
Sixteen years.
You might not see another one for another sixteen.
Truly!
These rainbow children are special beyond special.
Sent to teach life lessons and patience to parents and teachers.
Sent to show peers that people do not all have to think the same things.
Showing them that being passionate about one subject is all right.
Sometimes even desirable. This one loves trains; it all about trains for him.
Will his nursery be in trains?
No. His parents have not met him yet.
They are doing his room up in dinosaurs.
Will he like that too? No He will scream and wail about it.
Will they know to change it?
Someday as they learn.
This is why we send the rainbow children.
To teach the world.
The angel smiled at the baby, in awe.
Dyslexia affects me very severely,
but only when I sleep, when I dream only.
While in a dream state if I'm presented something to read,
like a newspaper, book or magazine,
none of the printed words make total sense to me,
they are all mixed up, out of order and confusing as can be.
but then when I awake and I'm conscious fully,
whatever I read reads as it always reads,
clear, concise and very easy.
I'm not making this up for the sake of poetry,
this is actually my true story,
and I'm posting this in case anyone has any theories,
particularly they who are into dream analogy,
and tell me what the heck is going on in the mind of TheKidster Billy.
My eyes does not itch,
But my brain does itch.
Eagle's eyes,curious teeth but timid brain,
Intuity did a lot of spelling rain. -
But i can't understand.
Comprehension had had me strand.
Willing eyes,indifferent cerebral,
Hopeful skull but brain's sick crawl.
Persaude my brain to agree with my eyes,
Wants to be free from this hell; Dyslexia.
17:18:08:16:32
Even thought my poems is better then the average poet I would said people would not understand
How hard it was in school an especially in college where average person would write once or twice
I would write three time and write a average of 200 papers but the requirement is 100 for associate of art and counting my credit it did not transfer it would be equivalent to a bachelor but lately I been looking at
Certification equal to bachelor degree I guess the glass cell is not broken.
Im Dyslexic
so please excuse my lack of Knowledge
Im a girl with learning Disabilities
so please excuse my child like behaviour
I am who I am and for that I won't apologise
for all I need is understanding and Patience.
Daddy, your bed time stories were the best.
The extra prescision you took while reading a book,
To overcome your struggles and ensure you pronounced each word correctly,
Were the most beautiful sounds.
The way you would sit and practice slowly,
Sometimes repeating words out loud or to yourself,
In efforts meant to bring our sleepy ears an image written down.
They were always the most beautiful words Daddy.
They were the best stories, that I lay in bed,
An adult now, and listen to my memories, where you retell them again.
You stuttered - it mattered not.
No other stories compare.
The ocean of life, enriched,
Then drained. I wish I could have..
My life, full of unfinished ventures.
I never explored the wonderland,
Through the fog of my confusion and
Ended up smiling in the mirror.
The only true friend shimmering back,
He twinkles from my heart,
Into the lucid environment of the languid.
Where’s my ambition? I ask.
In the hands of the sacrificial lamb,
Reflecting out of windows. Unhappy
With myself. Falling apart; my bone
And flesh. Mentally mercurial. There
Is no point, I find as
Shakespeare wags a knowing finger.
The mighty hawk, reduced,
Now, to austerity plus the
fear of the posterity as it
Struggles, wheezes because the stairs
Are too exhausting. The opaque
Elevator fails to work under
These Conditions. Bing: “next floor demise”.
I can run, free as far as I can figure,
With the streaming winds, breathing
New life into the bingo wings of my soul,
Crashing into darkness, drinking
A coke and a knowing grimace
Welded onto the contours of my face.
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