Long Anorexia Poems
Long Anorexia Poems. Below are the most popular long Anorexia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anorexia poems by poem length and keyword.
today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave, de deum, and cymbal crash
to bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in aa flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide while n the edge of thirteen -
anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience whip lash
lacerating, flagellating, and repeatedly rousing thoughts
to circle back to why death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity, and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re:that came a boot from genetic chromosomal dna wash.
Form:
I mourn —
Beneath her insipid skin laid
Vein tunnel hollowed
And beneath anaemic expression,
Laid a smile withering till slumber
I mourned a soul departing —
A soul so garish with love and light
Under the sun's rays she shone
A prismatic bliss of polychromatism
At the end of her devoted performances
Her branches fractured in bruise and scars
Trauma beneath the pipeline tunnels and;
Indentations of infliction by violent hands
Faintly, her vibrance languished to fall
Perishing under the weight of life's abuse
And larghetto into heaven's fáilte
I mourn —
The one who's time was fleeting yet eternal
Beneath deathless lights her beauty shone
Till the next time myself and her would meet
Once more, I'll have the courage to approach
And recite what I couldn't have said then
Her body frail in its struggling grace
Had never felt gentle hands on its surfaces,
But with caress I had vowed to have great caution
When the embrace matured to her beauty fading
On top of mine — I had allowed weeping aloud
I mourned — Her body laid rest before my rainfall of sapphires
Weeping and lamenting in melancholia
For the emaciated angel in her belle slumber.
Ana is a nickname used by those with anorexia. For some, it's a "superior" way of life. For others, it's a way to belong. Ultimately, it's a life ruled by fear; whether it's ever faced or forever denied.
If you suffer from an eating disorder, please try to get help. No one wants to see you die from your illness. Take care and stay safe.
Ana
By Michelle Morris
02/05/2023
Ana, Ana, Ana
Your name conjures up images
Demons and heartbreak
Anger and shame
Ana has been a part of my life for decades
She was my mom's best friend
She was a family secret
She was the biggest liar and manipulator
Nothing I could do or say
Would lessen her grip on my mom
I was sucked into her orbit
There was nothing I could do to avoid it
My mom was tiny
She was around 5 feet tall
She looked like a little pixie
But she could be a demon troll
I always loved her
I still miss her beyond words
But our relationship was complicated
By all the baggage and demons we had to deal with
It's taken many, many years
I accept that I'm not perfect
I appreciate that I don't have to be
To receive love and affection
But I still have super high standards
I'm still way too hard on myself
But I am grateful that I don't have Ana
Living in my life or my daughter's
Ana is divisive
She is cruel, controlling and dark
She'll never bring love and light
Sadly, she'll always be part of our world
If you have Ana in your life
If you believe she helps you belong
Please step back and realise it's denial
No one can show you love when you're gone
There's nothing superior about starving
There's nothing sacred about this way of life
You belong with those who want you to live
Please accept and embrace life and hope
You don't need to fear being happy
You don't need to fear the scale
You don't need to feel like an island
For you are part of life and you are loved
© Michelle Morris, 2023
I’m not an ego maniac
you know the type that gives others a heart attack
I get my vital nutrition
From a dietitian
Who only asks for my Submission
And he gives me the ambition
To fight back
On track
Promises me that I will never lack.
There’s a battle every time I wake
There’s a battle in every move I make
I am Jehovah's daughter
That’s why I can walk on water
I don’t need a psychic to read my palm
I have the prophecies, of his words, on my arm
I don’t need soothsayers to give me a premonition
I have fire from heaven that is my ammunition
Everywhere I turn their speaking death
It rains down until I have nothing left
Everyone is believing a lie
How can I sit back and watch as time goes by
The devil has sung many too sleep
Wake up, men of God; you’re being slaughtered like sheep
Resist the temptation
And have a deeper appreciation
For the lives placed in your hand
Or they’ll sink like quicksand
Into the abyss of despair
God’s presence isn’t there
This is a warning in these last days
To surrender your rebellious ways
Judgment is coming whether you believe it or not
Children of Niniva repent on the spot
And the God of "Mercy" will change his mind,
He calls out, “ Is there anyone I can find
That will abandon their ways and come into the light
Put on righteousness and fight this good fight?”
Spiritual anorexia
Emaciated the rest of you
Spiritual abortion
Has led many to extortion
Who will bow? Who will plead?
Save this generation which bleeds
Fathers gone estrange
Birthing violence that’s deranged
Suicide… the anti-Christ
Don’t you know Jesus paid the price?
By: Sabina Nicole
While meditating earlier today,
a flashback leapt
clear for me to assay,
those ever receding
early boyhood daze,
now subsumed within fifty,
plus nine shades of gray
blissfully innocent naivety,
(though blessed) no way
would, aye desire to turn back
the hands of father time (hypothetically),
where unstructured play
regularly with older sister
(thirteen plus months
my senior) predominantly
slicing, sliding, and slipping
stockinged feet skittering
across slippery basement floor,
this then soul full
skinny thing bellowed hooray.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I'm Matty Mattel; I got hurt;
Can you go out?"
Those words uttered
by the very first
pull-string talking doll
Mattel did tout
circa nineteen sixty
revolutionizing the birth
of quasi simulated (lifelike) toys,
and made of common
materials found scout
ting around the house simply comprising
hard vinyl (i.e. pseudo
plaster of Paris) head he did flout
with remaining body
stuffed with padding,
a definite no
no (chew toy) when Fido about.
Actually that pooch,
would be Georgie to you,
(a hybrid Boxer Dalmatian)
with docked tail
my young parents acquired,
when as a newborn,
aye did inconsolably wail
though recollection of such memory
fifty nine years ago tis of no avail
yet, a resumption of meditation,
sans lightness of being
(analogous trancelike state),
that doth prevail
replaying silent film preceding,
when psyche seem so frail
plummeting into emotional abyss
the nadir i.e. anorexia nervosa
pleading return to nostalgic boyhood
decrying change hide didst bewail!
written just a couple weeks before the lease at prior abode would expire, and no affordable habitat....just by happenstance and a thankful invisible hand of destiny.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why
death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft Waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb,
his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal DNA wash.
Across figurative and literal board...
mine hardscrabble existential debacle spelled losing game of trouble
Oft times, I experience wretchedness being alive
spurring wonderment whereby thoughts
of my demise doth drive
analogous to buzzfeeding bumbling bees
combing into their hive.
Giddiness prevailed
when coronavirus (COVID-19)
warranted quarantine to diminish
transmitting pandemic virus thru the air
lifestyle change no major imposition,
cuz yours truly already familiarized
with self isolation
courtesy his social anxiety despair
schizoid personality disorder the diagnosis
nsync with loathsome
body morphology toward self
viz mental health impasse a legitimate malady
impossible mission possibly
since in utero didst impair
minimally abetted courtesy
Buffalo wing and a prayer
wishful thinking only death can relieve
some recently approaching year.
Indifference toward self sums up story
viz mindset to whit
resignation to cash in chips
at a tender age, I did submit
evidenced courtesy abysmal grades
during stint as student
kindergarten and first grade the exception
earning appellation dummkopf or nitwit
showcased apathy to access ability and excel
overshadowed courtesy powerfully pointed outlook
within his bedroom at 324 Level Road
sequestered long haired pencil neck geeky hermit
four familiar walls constituted ambit.
Refuge sought vis a vis withdrawal
from world wide web
refusing sustenance (think anorexia nervosa),
thus these lovely bones withered away
thankfully mother (a licensed practical nurse)
of course intervened without delay
belated acknowledgement
regarding maternal love hip hip hooray
enrolling expertise of Doctor Ted Goldberg
at Collegeville Community counseling
to ameliorate psychological internal melee
running rampant and roughshod within me psyche
pushing self destruction down into stairway
entering portals of hell
analogous to Earthen bowels
deep within Zimbabwe.
Whether the above sentence incidental
to feeble attempt at reasonable rhyme
so please geography buffs pardon moi
add dull less cent delinquent puns
he did cashier plus
any unintended faux paus as aspiring poet
artfully crafts elaborated gimcrackery,
albeit impious kooky mishmashed
outlandish quirky s*it.
Sometimes healing is messy
It is a rollercoaster
Ups and downs
Sometimes I can handle it
Other times I lose control
I say I am in recovery for my bulimia
But I still struggle
I still consider pushing myself that extra hour in the gym
I think skipping lunch that day won't hurt
I sometimes spend too much time looking at teeth enamel strengthening toothpaste and whitening strips
I only look at healthy snack like plain rice cakes and original sun chips
Carboard is not the most appealing flavor
But it is the safest one
I don't have to feel guilty when I eat them
I won't need to punish my body later
Some days though
I will eat the birthday cake and not worry about it later
I will still go to the gym but only spend 30 minute there not 2 hours
I brush my teeth not worrying about if i will cause any damage to them from a purge
Healing is messy
Somedays are easier than others
But I know that I am trying my hardest.
Past psychological development
describes zigzagging mama's yoyo
casually, aye publicize, (asper
mein kampf) personal woe
unpleasant memories indelibly
etched, jagged, scar outlined like ticktacktoe
solitary games invariable resultant
draw between every “x” and each "o"
metaphorical of course for this poetic,
formerly non opportunistic
generic Joe Schmoe,
hoof hound cathartic airing emotionally
rocky terrain, whereby floe
tips of icebergs with poetry I tool
examining, excavating, extracting, et cetera hoe
ping to discover ring visa vis,
why this ordinary fella did not want to grow
up, when on the throes of puberty lugging
"FAKE" nostalgic memories in tow
markedly heavy impossible to shrug
Atlas off (as if yoked with an albatross) also
weighted with Taj Mahal size fountainhead
gushing with emotional phlegm like no
buddies business shockingly deadly toxic
sputum nearly killed me, the only bro
their too hoo (owl right) untwisted sisters
one older, the other younger dough
ting on this then suicidal, impassive, and
ambivalent depressively sullen self burrow
wing boy within my own wormhole unresponsive
to overtures of sincere love - self castrated
particularly social maturation grew
ming this present day subdued chap
still smarting from ravages of anorexia
nervosa, particularly wrought hardy brew
of schizoid personality disorder self
deprivation excruciating frame of mind
as I mercilessly flayed and never grew
to experience ordinary relationships,
hence though married with grown daughters,
nonetheless...pay penance forever rue
man hating price hermetically
sealed wharf from humans,... thus you
cannot reach me, - now adieu!
(fear not stalwart reader, the sword of Damocles just grazed thy chest when fate found us a place to call home).
to avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today i.e. about two years ago (end of rope rhyme rote
approximately deux orbitz round the sun),
i wanted ta die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek ot a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why death be not proud
when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the (then) lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
the gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled
from the womb, his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward
of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal dna wash.