Illness Poems - Poems about Illness

I. THE WANDERING I was born with a life that bled— a seafloor womb dragging tides of fern and marigold char The priests brought saffron and fear crowning me with diagnosis They said: She is too empty They said: Fill her with figs with seed with stillness They said: Her belly speaks too loud Mute her O Plato old patriarch of phantoms my body was no beast— just prophecy you never learned...

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The world drones on, beyond this lacquered, amber membrane I recline within the waxen chambers— a sovereign of nectar enthroned in illusion Muffled voices leak through resin walls distorted—like speech submerged in molasses: “Gone… her mind distills itself… hallucinations… delusional constructs…” I attempt to see— but the hum begins, low as a beast dreaming in its burrow. My votaries rise, spilling gold into my gaze Sweet venom varnishes my...

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The wheels of the chaotic times churn for them the sands of crushed dreams in the desert of desiccated life, settling frenzied on the unstratified fragile structure of the disorganized dunes of desolate existence. The sequestered moments of distressed awareness, drift the dust of disarray to the foyer of failed being. The truth of trustful conviction...

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They say you never leave the house. It’s a ghostly feeling by the tv. When you live somewhere and hate it for no reason? Remembering again and deflating. And you’re getting cereal again. And you’re getting things from places all the time. Whirling. They say you never leave the house. That’s all it is. They say...

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The scientists of today think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane. ~ Nikola Tesla nights are dark and long and those who come only to wheedle me into eating, or drinking, or brushing my hair coddle and coo yet bear knife and needle to prepare my mind...

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Lying still, in a dark room. It’s easy to sink into it. Let myself deflate. The room gets darker endlessly. If I step off this bed, The sounds will turn back on. So my eyes stay closed. As my toes move slightly. Don’t lie in a contorted way. Or the sounds will figure it out....

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I have no sense of time, the pride from my accomplishments is as null as the concept of permanence, besides the fog — seeping into my mind as deep as the proverbial soul within me. in the mist of what is left of myself, the only depth i can catch...

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My old jeans menacing. Gold jewelry too. I have to feel the weird belt around my waist. And the bracelet that appeared somehow. Socks drying off. Changing color too. Nothing is as blue as a T-shirt. That has a tragic stain. I have to eat taco soup. Just ground beef and broth. A horrible thing....

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Great T-rumposaurus meanus! Adolph and Don share a genus With teensy wiener Was Hitler meaner Or Trump with his weeny p-e-n-i-s?...

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False Spiritualities Our age is full of spiritual criminals “I teach you!” I will show you the way!” Yes, they will help. Of course. For money People want to find the way. The way out Why? People are fearing. Hmm. Future Yes. But maybe too late, the gate is closed Then came the help! The spiritual teachers! “I teach you practices, knowing, meditations!” They...

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so harrowing, life journey from radiant light to pitch-darkness - quote by poet. a (groaning) dread nobody deserves to muddle through, day after day; the loss of a spouse ...

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I’ve knocked on every door of medicine men— doors painted with hope. Swallowed pills of every size and colour. Been told, “This one never fails.” Another promise— fulfilled only in disappointment. The body that once felt mine now feels like a stranger’s— still wearing my name tag. I sleep early, trying to rinse myself from pain, but wake up still dressed in it. The coat I wear? Pain-stitched— by a tailor...

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Death is to be my great enemy For in living I am to be The friend of life, and put to death That force that longs to steal my breath— Away! — away that hallowed hollow grave My ally, the stone that bears my name The one, oh would that I could fill That hole, that bowl of earth To swallow me down...

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I have weird eyes. Like wires that connect. Blinking at the same time as being painful. Eating too much. With weird, starving eyes. Eyelashes gripping. Pupils which are tingling. Eyes everywhere. Just eyes and no body. Just eyes. Grappling eyes. That's what mental illness is. The eyes. That’s what anxiety acts like. Caving in, horrible, weird,...

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Hopelessness When your body and mind are disconnected When your falling in a sea of darkness and accept it When the silence is loud you can hear your heartbeat It's the feeling of a deep pit In your stomach All the contents of your stomach being Consumed by it Replaced by the feeling of sickness Leaving a...

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