Long Air out Poems
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I lay in my bed.
Thoughts come in waves.
When will it end?
The Dragon slain.
No amount of time.
No person, no thing.
Can change the fate,
That the needle brings.
Sights of Orange,
Delight my eyes.
I pick up a crystal,
And to no surprise.
I crush it down.
In that damn orange cup.
I’m so overwhelmed.
The sinking feeling abrupt.
I carefully decide,
The amount to pour.
Then mix it with water.
And dissolve once more.
I take off the cap,
To reveal the shine.
Of that needle so enticing.
That it blows my mind.
I feel so small.
As I stare at that point.
My body quivers.
I can’t disappoint.
Thoughts of guilt.
Invade my brain.
But my body keeps saying,
This will soon end the pain.
So I draw the solution,
Into the stem.
Then flick it twice.
Let the bubbles settle in.
I slowly push the air out.
That’s collected on top.
And wonder to myself,
If I will ever stop.
But I shrug it away.
And again think of pain.
Then tie on my tourniquet.
And say “ it” again.
The veins start to pop.
And spread on my skin.
They bulge and prod,
And trickle within.
Sometimes this takes hours.
Sometimes days of my life.
I get so frustrated.
But search on with strife.
I stab myself over and over again.
Until the blood flows red into my syringe.
Seeing the blood,
Makes my whole body weak.
But I surrender with ease.
No more words can I speak.
I push the plunger forward,
Till she entires my veins.
Down to the last drop.
Empty and insane.
I wait just a second.
Pull the needle out.
My body turns to fire.
This is what it’s all about.
From my toes to my head,
Her venom spreads.
Ecstasy at last.
No more feelings of dread.
Then the fire fades,
Just as quickly as it came.
And then there’s just calm.
A final break from the shame.
I’ve given my life to this process,
So many times.
The bigger the shot.
The bigger the crimes.
When I’m in this state,
The dragon has one.
My mind and my heart,
Become unspun.
I do terrible things,
To all of my friends.
My family, my children.
But she always wins.
I always think I can only do one.
But that’s never the case.
The cycles just begun.
“The devils tool” I’ve heard it said.
Takes every ounce of life.
And leaves you for dead.
But you rise up and start
The process once more.
A zombie. Tortured chaos.
I don’t know anymore.
He watched his kite,her, snap
her tail rises
in the sky
in the deep blue sky
i keep imagining of her
my eyes don't rest and lie,
my mind's eye,
of her with a bird in hand,
the one she waved off …
that i dont imagine
i keep watching her tail
so majestic
and buoyant
... as if she were dancing,
dancing
with herself,
in the deep blue sky,
her carriage
model perfect
of blemishes
with the sun shining
off her inner beauty,
she would flutter
... flutter
to the right and left,
bounce, bounce
up and down
as i continue watching,
watching ...heartbroken
for the last time,
Of life passing by,
Her,
my eyes moisten
as she distances herself
away from me
the burdens of my life
Heartaches, heartaches that
always kept suppressed in me
i say, i wish i could have stopped her flight
and see her come alive
with me,
... me with
one fleeting chance
a chance
of a snowball of goodness for once
but hoping realistically
for just that one snowflake of a chance
one little snowflake that never dropped
... i keep watching
the once beautiful kite
so lifelike, vibrant
especially her tail and direction
up in the blue sky,
a small dot now
... sucking the air out of me
as it became smaller
• i reminiscence
of the past of how our love nosedived
into an avalanche
before it started
... nosediving into sorrow and regrets
the residual of a piece of string not tying
not tying a loop...
i keep looking up into the sky
my mind oscillating, correlating
i see, clearly
her inner beauty capturing me
even from a distance
and now how ... i'm resigned to watching
so sadden
life unravel,
how can this be
or is that the line ... unraveling
again, how can this be
... the kite kept
distancing itself
fluttering itself ...
further away ...
just like myself
... the wind howling
its sharp teeth of injustice, life
grabbing me
i guess
i guess i was bad, unworthy
For her
for i hear ...
voices in my head
the once little birds in her hand crying,
crying
for not finding warmth
i hear a snap
is that for real?
i look,
in the deep blue sky
turning over, turning shades of red
she's gone
and the voice of cruelty just laughing
just laughing at me
for there is an absence, now
of that little tail fluttering
with goodness,
with unattainable borders
that i missed and missed
connie pachecho
3/3/17
All of my love is lost, I no longer have a heart now
Too many wounds from being on this battleground
I've never been hurt, I wish I could say that was true
You're who I'm drinking to forget,but my mind always comes back to you
I shouldn't have said that, I just gave you an advantage
I'm just trying to make it through while stranded
Tell people what they want to hear?, sorry but I'd rather speak Factually
Emotional at times, but at other times I suffer from Apathy
Who knew saving the Princess would be a Catastrophe?
She didn't appreciate it and broke me in return
So now I'm using my pen to cause casualties
why would I water it down when you can see my burns?
Depression leaves from time to time, and my mood starts to lift
But then it comes back just as I think I've won, and think it's been missed
But how can I fault it when it's the only thing that came back to me after leaving?
I'm writing a story, but I just spent a whole chapter bleeding
These are just the habits of my heart
When I have one
I need to put my sadness in my art
Where's my pad gone?
Crying over a girl who's probably doing god knows what with the next guy
I was there when you needed me, mended you and offered you everything, how can I not be the best guy?
You made me look stupid when you knew this was something I was scared about
Now I'm out having meaningless sex with females I don't care about
Females I won't care about
Is this too much for me to air out?
I don't believe in secrets, I'd rather let it all be known
Even if it's just so I'm no longer alone
Lately I've cut the world off, But I still answer the girls who are sending nudes to my phone
I've got an obsession with chatting girls up and I find sex therapeutic
Let me be real, that's me hiding because every time I used my heart they abused it
One day you'll wake up and realised you called it wrong
And that I was the perfect guy for you all along
But then it'll be too late, and you'll feel the type of hurt I'm feeling now
Even though I'm hurt, I've began healing now
You weren't a real queen, you were an imposter who went around stealing crowns
With a pretty smile and fake love as a costume
So now I'm listening to Drake's take care album at full volume
You stabbed me in the back, so now you've been cut off
This is why all of my love's lost
The hurt builds inside, with no way to get free from within.
It’s havoc safely locked away, unable to wreak the divine chaos it so desires To spread like poison amongst cravings of unbridled fury.
To inflict on the soul that ignited this bitterness still left unspoken,
Screaming on the inside, paint on my smile, and look happy for the camera.
Why is it my heart cannot abide the counsel of my mind?
I would not have this anger and thirst for destruction dwelling on my mind.
The shattered glass has fallen in shards by my feet,
The leftover pieces of an emotion that doesn't fascinate me like it did before.
Always dancing out of my grasp, tempting me to seize what I cannot.
The illusions of my mind, the ones where I was loved, and I was happy,
Begin to disintegrate around me, flour and water mix, then become a paste.
One small, with its fiction and fantasies, it weaves a giant web of deceit.
I tried so hard to make them see that love has a cruel cycle it follows,
Demanding devotion, with it's array of charms and sober unrealities.
Impacts are worse on the naïve; truth becomes a chaos loosed in their souls.
The fright, shock leaves me standing alone not knowing where or who I am.
Bewildered, I wonder why I took this chance at potential annihilation,
The fabrication of my life filled with the wreckage of my self-destruction,
My downfall closing in quickly, I can taste defeat, like bile in my mouth
The flavor burns as it fills my mouth, I spit, foul though it may be,
I have unwillingly endured exposure to harsh realities, I can take no more.
Seclusion begins to soften my still raw emotions so I examine them up close.
Barriers stand on end, like a firewall, made of unyielding rocks and stones.
This time it will take more than charm and whit to break them down.
No big bad wolf to blow down my walls, strong in their assembly,
My refuge is sturdy, well built and formidable, and that is the way I need it.
Once again, I have restored my sanity, if only for the moment, and for now,
I will watch the daily lives of those around me, unable to participate, again.
One day I will rejoin the world, but for now I will stay behind my walls,
I will watch from afar and dream of the time I was on the outside,
Even if only for a moment in time, I was there and I tasted the air out there.
Control of breathing is quite complex
And if you really check the specs
You find all kinds of balances and checks
Within the medulla, cells playing their role
The DRG, inspirational control
Using cyclic neurons for their goal.
Actions potentials from the DRG
These cells are cyclic and fire intermittently.
Then muscle contract to the best of their ability.
To the external intercostals and diaphragm they talk
And these muscles, at the neurons’ stalk
Follow orders and they do not balk.
And when they stop, the muscles relax.
Air is forced out as muscle slacks.
Volume decreases and Boyle’s Law acts.
So breathing in costs ATP
That means the use of energy
But calm expiration? It’s just free.
But when you need to force air out
Or at something, really shout
The VRG is what it’s all about.
It talks to abdominal muscles as well
As internal intercostals to make pressure swell
And air in the lungs can no longer dwell.
The Apneustic center in the pons is a source
Of a center dealing with force
Of an inspiration’s course.
The pneumotaxic center deals with duration
And both centers talk to each medullary station
And help regulate breathing condition.
The limbic system has some sway
In breathing fast or slow at bay
More than most realize, an important say.
And the hypothalamus, always of import
With its influence never falls short
In aiding ventilation, it lends its support.
For other than limbic, it deals with fever
When it tips the temperature lever
And makes ventilation a greater achiever.
Lastly there’s the cortex of the brain,
Whose job most think, is always to reign.
But when it comes to breathing, it is quite plain.
You can’t stop breathing by your will.
The lower centers always still
Make breathing a reflex, cortex input almost nil.
And just what drives this reflex to ventilate?
From where does the need originate?
From the chemoreceptors, it does emanate.
Receptors monitoring proton concentration.
Then messages sent without cessation
To the brainstem for increasing ventilation.
And hydrogen ions, where are they from?
Carbon dioxide and water, voila, they come.
The magic formula, carbonic acid does succumb.
There is no doubt in my mind
in going to faith healers to heal
what ails me and be better faster.
Is it my faith or the faith healers?
Or both, that is the question?
However, there is no question in my mind
in giving them credence for I have a strong
belief in them, trust and confidence in their
healing, in their certitude and conviction to heal.
You go to the doctor and will be asked
“What’s wrong?”… Isn’t it for him/her to find out?
You’ll be put through testing to know what is wrong
or medications that have side effects
or therapies that take too long to ease the pain.
Yes, I go to the doctor; but I also go to faith healers.
With faith healers, they see through you
and feel, sense, perceive what is wrong with you.
You see images of their faith, candles, oil
and you feel this underlying feeling or aura.
I had a knee surgery with an orthopedic surgeon
and could not walk without a limp after the surgery.
Discouraged, I went to a faith healer and with her
massages using ginger and sesame oil,
I was able to walk without a limp.
I had my second bout of depression
and could not shake it off for months
and months of therapy and prayers.
Was a mess – desperate and hopeless.
I went to another faith healer, who told me
when she lifted my head that it was too heavy.
She moved her hands on my head with her faith,
her belief to heal and restore me – her healing
touch facilitated mental and emotional healing.
Then she told me my head weighed like
a gigantic rock with so much air inside
and she was able to let all the air out
or all the darkness that invaded my mind.
Believe in faith healers healing or not.
Many do not for they don’t believe
and some do for they believe.
The faith healers have gifts in healing.
They are believers to minister various kinds
of healing with their faith and spirituality.
They have the commitment, the confidence,
the conviction to restore physical, mental,
emotional and spiritual health through
their sensing and healing touch and faith.
12/1/20 Faith Healer Poetry Kai Michael Neumann
The sun rises yet again,
And with it another battle to begin.
The dark star lit skies has not treated me well,
Torturing my mind with memories of times I fell.
The morning rays chase away the stories of discouragement,
Leaving only new demons without empathy or sentiment.
These burdens tax my body and weigh heavy on my mind.
Iron clamps of despair keep me in it's bind.
The war rages between loud cries of giving up and the rebel whisper of never.
The trenches leave me beaten and scared, hoping and praying it gets better.
Spilling my heart and soul through this pen,
Hoping my fractured world to finally mend.
The blows knock the air out of lungs, stopping the clocks mid-chime.
Emotions streaming down my face as I collapse for the last time.
Is this where I give up roll over and die?
Has the fuel for my fight finally run dry?
I muster up my last shred of strength an let out a loud cry,
The desperation fills my corpse as my soul reaches for the sky.
I scream at the struggles I can't physically attack,
The growls finally leave my vocal cords torn and taxed.
I retreat to my inner sanctuary to a place where the demons cannot reach.
I listen to courage, faith, hope and all they preach.
They pick me up, dusting me off begging me to try once more.
Return to my reality of bone and blood I am different then before.
These demons clever lies finally become evident fallacies,
Made up evils of horrid fantasies.
As my hands tremble, knees buckle and my arms feel short of strength, I stand,
I pile up my burdens on my back and set my footing on solid land.
To think this path would be easy was insane,
I now know what it is to know pain.
But through my struggle knowledge I gain.
How to manage the pain and work through the strain.
So I will work those arms, stretch out these legs and open those naive eyes and finally live,
Stand tall without apologies, and without any complaint to give.
Victorious I will be when the final page is read,
For my feet will not stumble again on this path that I tread.
Form:
"Renovation After A Narcissist"
(Sometimes a vagrant sneaks past the security of one's heart.
When they are discovered, they must be made to depart.
First, beef up security with more guards put in place,
Then thoroughly disinfect until there is no trace!)
Now that I have recognised the toxin in my life,
Living in my heart causing me stress and strife,
Disinfection has begun, a thorough cleansing duty,
Every nook and cranny to wipe out the rabid booty,
To eradicate the infection that has held me in peril.
I won't stop until my heart is completely sterile.
Open wide the windows, air out the gruesome smell,
Good riddance to the garbage, extricate, expel.
All the filthy, rotten lies, the stench is so profound,
Fermenting in deceit, drowning every sound,
Of reason, of logic, of any common sense,
Designed just to cripple and stifle my defense.
All the daggers strewn around, with my blood, stained,
The walls of my heart shredded once my Love was gained.
The mutilation is evident everywhere I look,
As advantage of my Love without remorse, he took.
I offered complete forgiveness, to understand, a chance,
But he was too enthralled with the wielding of his lance,
Making lacerations, gaping wounds, cutting deep,
Inflicting pain immense, with joy he watched me weep.
All the masquerading of his many twisted clones,
Rounding up many as his spying, lying drones,
Has now come to a close with a sour, bitter end,
But with cleansing underway, my mangled heart can mend.
For the vagrant in my heart, the vampiristic leech,
I have now extricated with a ton of bleach.
No remnants shall remain, not even a spec of dust,
Not even a whisper silent, meticulous is a must.
The task shall be done, impeccably carried through,
Until my heart is healed and once again anew.
There will be no vacancy until this work's complete,
Never to be again seduced by a master of deceit.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2014-05-03 18:22:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
The ocean
I always had a fear of the ocean you know?
Those deep dark tides pulling you in
The darkness lurking beneath the horizon
But oh how beautiful it is
Pulling me closer and closer
Until my feet feel the shore going back home then coming back to me for a short moment before leaving again
I hated the ocean. For looking so beautiful and luring me in
Then drowning me. Taking all the air out my lungs. A thief in the night, stealing my one and only breathe
But for some I don’t blame the ocean
For some reason i even feel sorrow for the ocean. The pollution it’s given and forced to endure and the only help it ever gets is from people. The same people that polluted her.
She is scared too.
Scared on who to trust.
Not knowing who’s bringing love,
and who’s bringing poison masked as care. She waits in silence, swallowing secrets and oil spills, never sure if the next hand reaching out is there to heal her or hurt her. It’s no wonder she drowns people. She’s trying to survive her own demise—?trying to save herself?the only way she knows how. By using people,?just like she’s been used.
The one person who came and picked trash from her waters?gave the ocean hope—?a flicker of possibility that she could be saved.
But she was wrong.
That small act of kindness,?the only kind she’d ever known,?felt like everything.?It made her believe.?Hope bloomed— hope that one day she’d be clean again,?that people wouldn’t fear her touch
She began to think every human who came near was there to help.?And that hope consumed her,?made her reach out blindly—?sometimes hurting those she only meant to welcome. All she ever wanted was to be cleansed. To be seen, not as a soul-stealing tide,?but as the pure, aching soul?she’s always been beneath the surface.
A darkness waiting to be shown light
not to be feared,
but understood.
A depth that holds pain, yes,
but also beauty, waiting for someone brave enough
to dive in and stay
Once some travelers on the road
to a land of treasure, slowed,
halting in their journey’s pace
halfway to that distant place.
Scared that bandits might attack,
they decided to turn back,
too discouraged to proceed…
Hence the group began to plead
with the guide their fears to heed,
their concerns, and urgent need:
“The road is long; the going’s rough.
We think we’ve journeyed far enough.
That treasure’s too remote to seek.
We’re weary now and feeling weak.
“Illumination’s brilliant glow
is something we may never know.
We’ve lost the will to carry on.
Perhaps there is no brighter dawn.”
This guide was clever, sage, and wise.
He wanted them to reach the prize.
The leader thought he would devise
a scheme to make a town arise,
by mystic means, before their eyes.
From compassion, out of pity,
then he conjured up a city
from thin air, out of the blue,
though illusion, seeming true.
Next, the leader swiftly said:
“See that country up ahead…
there you may relax and rest
in this formidable quest.”
That walled city, stately, grand
seemed a strange and wondrous land
with parks, gardens, lakes galore,
mansions, gateways by the score,
mountains, valleys, plains, and trees.
Here the travelers felt at ease.
Each and every earthly pleasure
they enjoyed to fullest measure.
There were found the ways and means,
roundabouts and in-betweens,
all spelled out in doctrines, schools,
precepts, laws, and golden rules.
And in this city, heaven-sent,
they rested to their hearts’ content…
Their exhaustion passed; at length,
when they had regained their strength,
felt refreshed and of good cheer,
he made the city disappear.
Yes, when they’d had an ample stay,
the leader made it go away…
Then to the travelers he said:
“Now you must push on ahead,
apply yourselves with heart and soul.”
Thus, they continued to their goal.
[Continued in Part Two]
~ Harley White