Long Attacks Poems
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COPING HEALING SURVIVING MENTAL ILLNESS IN AMERICA IT DIDN'T START OFF THIS WAY GOD KNOWS I DIDN'T ASK FOR I WAS SUFFERING IN SILENCE MASKING DEPRESSIVE DISORDER MASKING PTSD TRIGGERS ANXIETY DISORDER PANIC DISORDER PANIC ATTACKS I WAS SO ASHAMED OF MY DIAGNOSIS SO I SUFFERED BEHING MAROON DRAPES WRITING POETRY KEEPING A JOURNAL BROKEN I WAS BLESSED TO HAVE A NETWORK OF SUPPORT BUT NOTHING COULD QUIET THE HEARTBEATS I CAN STILL HEAR MY FETUS HEARTBEAT WHILE WEARING WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FROM JUNK SICK COPS WHO NEEDED ME DEAD ON YES CLAERLY I WAS DEAD THEN FROM 1984 THROUGH 1995 WIRES INSTALLED ON MY UNBORN CHILD I BELLY WOULD TREMBLE I CAN STILL FEEL HER HANDS INSTALLING THE WIRES THEY WERE COLD DISTANCE I LOOKED IN HER EYES AND I ASKED HER WERE THEY COULD TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MY HEART BEAT ANDBTHE FETUS IN THERAPY I SUFFERED FULL BLOWN PANIC ATTACK I COULDN'T BREATHE WHY DOES THIS MATTER WE SURVIVED AN YET I'M STUCK HERE FOREVER WHAT KIND OF LIFE IS THIS I CLOSE MY EYES HEARTBEATSNI SING IN CHURCH HEARTBEATS TAKE A HOT BATH HEARTBEATS FINALLY SEDATION RESTING I AWAKEN TO HEARTBEATS SO LOUD LIKE SIRENS BLARING GUILT BEING CATHOLIC I CARRY THIS GUILT I ALLOWED THE FBI TO VIOLATE MY FETUS DOES THAT MAKE SENSE I CAN NEVER EVER BE WHOLE AGAIN FILLED WITH SO MUCH MEDICATION DECADES OF MEDICATION FOR MY LIFE WOUKD SURELY END WITHOUT IT AN YET I FEEL LIKE ENDING MY LIFE STOPPING THE HEARTBEATS I ADORE MY PSCHIATRIST MY THERAPIST THEY TELL ME I'M BRAVE HOW I'M NOT BRAVE I'M BROKEN I THINK OF THE FETUS INSIDE MY WOMB EVERY TIME THE DEVICE WAS TURNED ON THE FETUS WOULD ROLL UP INTO A BALL I FELT CONTRATIONS LIKE THE FETUS WAS TRYING TO EXPELL ITSELF I HAD TO KEEP GOING FINISH THE JOB FOUR OF MY OTHER KIDS SEATED WITH THE FBI SUPERVISOR SINGING MY GIRL I TRULY BELIEVED I WAS MAKING A DIFFERENCE I NEVER DREAMED I'D BE INTIMIDATED I NEVER DREAMED JAMAICAN DEALERS WOUKD ARRIVE TO END MY LIFE PARKED IN FRONT OF MY TOWNHOME BY GOD'S GRACE GUNMEN EMERGED SAVING MY LIFE I SHOOK LIKE A LEAF MY HEART POUNDING PANIC DISORDER
I looked out at America
from my porch the other day,
Unusual, it's appearance,
seems so different I would say.
Problems in abundance,
so many that I see,
but this was once America
a special place to be.
Remembering recent times
my thoughts I could convey,
flowed freely, not a worry,
of what I had to say.
Judgment's made of people,
and who they just might be,
a great man's words remind us,
more than color makes up me.
As people so divided
the politics at play,
E Pluribus Unum
a motto we betray.
Attacks from the left,
reactions on the right,
these political old cronies
wage a never ending fight.
Opinions, such a chasm,
of who that we should be,
a country this divided,
can never remain free.
It's time now for the many,
to answer, lest we fall,
to get back to united,
an "America" for us all!
BENEATH THE CONCRETE
Born to a hard, brown, and rocky soil,
A world where Adam's fall makes us all toil.
I thought I couldn't bloom and blosom,
thought I wouldn't sprout, so they assume.
Here I find myself, where I live & birth;
A world of weighty woes and hardened earth,
Concrete buries the soil and nature I spoil,
Modernization is sent as a necessary decoy.
But cracks are the first glimpse of hope,
to unsovocate the strangled sandy slope
where life leads I, the rolling stone.
Each one of us fights hard to hold our own.
But I became like the rose that grew from the cracks,
sprout in chokehold despite barages of attacks.
'The Lord lift the rose that grew from the concrete'
and set him high as the cynosure of the country.
The scars garnered from the forceful growth
And the hope has the same virtue in both.
I embrace the changes and put defeat to bed.
I transition like the pepper when it turns to red,
Bcos it allows itself transform to a vibrant hue
no matter the impediments & what I go through.
I'll uncover the vast beauty that lies in me slowly.
My scars are the receipt & evidence of victory,
how I survived battles lined-up in my history,
A testament to resilience beyond compare.
Cracks are not to be fixed cos I didn't put them there.
Instead, I embrace those little cracks
So the sunshine may warm my weiry backs.
For in these cracks , I find my strength & might
And sprout again to take full flight.
The colourless world witnessed my light.
I bloomed against all obstacles...
Oh, it was but a rare miracle.
This pepper seed defied the gods in their fiasco.
Then it was written of me and so they say:
"In a world of concrete, hot, under the Sun Ray,
A tiny seed found its destined way."
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©24th October 2023.
This day will be remembered in infamy,
When insurrectionists brought horror and shame.
While they attacked our foundation of democracy,
Looking for the innocent & other ghosts to blame.
A common viewpoint of this event was disbelieving,
Such that, how could this even happen at all?
To the point where those responsible carried that rhetoric,
Where there was no conflict, just a few tourists in the hall.
Well folks, like most of you, I watched this event
Very closely, and my memory is clear and complete.
Because the facts are both violent and deadly, to
Interrupt the transfer of power, by force and deceit.
The aftermath of this tragedy was almost comical,
As fingers were pointed at any others to defame.
So the attacks looked to Antifa & Black Lives Matter,
Then even Q-Anon, the FBI, and Nancy Pelosi by name.
Here my poetic effort will focus on reality, and
The truth that the historic pages will record.
Since we get enough of fantasy & fiction, from
Numerous entertainment venues explored.
So the truth of this day is simply ominous,
Where one man couldn't accept his defeat.
And so while riding upon his constructs of Fake
News & the Big Lie, displaying the ultimate conceit...
This former leader and his minions made plans
To stop their steal, challenging, We the people, to this day.
Thankfully, their efforts then were thwarted, while
The Constitution was shaken along the way.
This story is not nearly over, and will likely
Continue for more time than many would like.
While a nation awaits some justice & accountability,
Hopefully avoiding a more popular strike.
FEAR
Feeling tired, washed up, drained
Moody, irritated, relationships strained
Life’s journey just filled with inevitables
Questions answered in mono syllables
What initiates this fearful condition
Invades your space without permission
Starts out small yet urgently this knot in the gut
Leaves you nowhere but sadly stuck in a rut
Attacks your senses blurs your vision
Negative thoughts follow with precision
This surgery will change you to the core
You’ll think a woman not loved anymore
Fear is the venom a tragic lethal dose
Remember when fear comes faith goes
Though this body of death will eventually decay
Just identify the positives in each new day
When negative thoughts your mind assail
Encompass it with faith drape it like a veil
Dispel those thoughts send a message clear
You are wonderfully made with nothing to fear
Why the curved sword, Joshua?
"The signal for the ambush,
And a wily subterfuge!
Ai will be reaped by Yahweh.
The whole field, corners, too.
No one will be left to gather.
He exposes Ai's warriors-
The burning city behind,
The ravine in front,
The king of Ai is a fool,
Leaving the city undefended.
Presumptive pride's defeat!
There can be no refuge,
When there's no Substitute,
When Yahweh attacks His enemies."
Why the curved sword, Son of Man?
"The Earth's harvest is ripe,
I must reap swiftly and fully!
Big Lie Country will be reaped,
The Son will proceed to judge,
Earth's bad grapes are over-ripe!
I will swing the curved sword,
Gather in the bad grapes,
And toss them into the wine press!
Fools say there is no God,
Calling evil good and good evil.
Presumptive pride's defeat!
The rocks cannot hide them,
When they reject the Substitute,
When the Son attacks His enemies."
Then I saw the winepress of God,
Where the blood of bad grapes
Reached the height of horses' bridles
For a distance of 200 miles.
But blessed are those,
Who die in the Lord,
For there's no sin in Him.
Our Substitute redeems!
Children of the Gaza,
How do you strive to survive?
Children of the Gaza,
Why aren't your struggles amplified?
Children of the Gaza,
Can you hear my voice?
Children of the Gaza,
Tell me, are you still alive?
Young souls, being killed everyday,
"Babies aren't meant to be here", they say,
There's a horrifying, terrified sound 2 year olds make,
Hearing the sound of planes.
Being fed water instead of milk,
Where has your baby formula been?
Being thrown bombs over your heads,
Is this how months olds are supposed to be fed?
Voices struck in their throats,
Bloody and hoarse,
Lost in the noise of destruction,
Panic attacks and starved stomachs.
What did they do to deserve,
To be born in the middle of the war?
Just a simple, earthy poet.
Here to learn and to share.
To impress you, never?
Hardly, the best poetess bear!
Just pens things simply relatable.
Though some~may consider me
mentally unstable?
That's so understandable!
In a world, that has lost in grip on
reality's handle.
In fear some live of diseases, past and
present.
While cancer, heart attacks, strokes
are far more prevalent.
But for now, to you, they are irrelevant?
No Kudos to the media and their death count
charts daily.
Your contribution to planetary fear, have
us waiting for death and making us live
insanely.
Your narratives are never true.
So many are surviving, but you pass over that
and tell death lies to bring up your revenue?
~~SHAME ON YOU. DEALERS IN DEATH~~
1-10-2021
5am PST
Some deal with principalities
To leave them alone
Others fight principalities
In the war of tongues and fangs
Others
And I am one of those
Chose to be
Principalities to the principality,
when the devil sees them he shouts..
"blood of Jesus! the stronghold attacks again
Just like our mountains
Some look at it and withdraw
Others just walk around it for years
Some pray for strength to climb to the top
Others
Who am not part of
Speak to their mountains and they despair
But
Those of my faith
When the mountains see us
They flee and we walk on flat ground
Just like soccer
Its not about your smart boots
Nor your breaded hair
Its much about what is hidden in you
The God that reigns in me
Is too much for the loser
In the world
What you have leads you to what you want
But what is in you gives you what you need
Invariable measures find me concluded with torment.
Crystallized reflections peripherally surpass imaginations advent.
Crackling blisters intern vivid arbitration, as if to teach spine-chilling lessons.
Collapse goes hostage lungs, held up and recorded in air gasping sessions.
Constant ringing beneath definitions light concealed bag piped eye shadows haunting address.
All occurs timed perfectly for surprise panic attacks; choking on nothingness.
White vaporous visuals infiltrate what sight left remains.
Useless kicking and screaming ended then when normalcy fathomed midst windowed pains.
Feelings numb agony crippled sightless time; acoustic sound walls burrow.
Vines manifest scandalous intent, my surrounded record beckons such growth still; you expect me to feel sorrow.
12/09/16