Long Coma Poems
Long Coma Poems. Below are the most popular long Coma by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coma poems by poem length and keyword.
Marybeth, my little sister, the baby of the family.
A wild blonde, just like her mom,
She had to have her candy!
From weed to perks, triple two-ees and ludes
Marybeth and Judy were always stewed.
That was in high school, and a few years before
They both settled down like the girl next door.
A husband and children just like Karen and Kate
But mom never met them
She had them too late.
Spent time with her dad, she loved him to death,
He hated her husband, She was his Marybeth!
She shared all her secrets and turned him against
The man that she married - it didn't make sense.
Mare landed a job with the Kromberger clan
They loved her like family; maybe more than...
Her life was too short, her children too young
To lose their dear mother, God, what have You done?
She paid all her dues with the pain she endured
For the past seven years with no hope for a cure.
Being blind was another effect of the coma
And a few years went by before carcinoma
Eating food from a cup was humbling for sure,
But Mare always kept some humor in store
Her wish when she left us, was for us not to cry
Remember the good times, and stop asking why.
Her time was her time and we'll all have our day
For leaving this life, for slipping away
Our guardian angels are right by our sides
They take our hand gently along with our Guides
And cross us to where we no longer need
The pain and the suffering to which we agreed.
There's always a reason, for the things of today
We can't see the big picture, Faith asks us to pray.
One fact is for sure, we all have a Life Purpose
It's always much deeper than what's seen on the surface
Marybeth's purpose included us all
I'm grateful for that, but what the heck was it for?
Someday I'll look back, probably next New Years Eve.
A year will have passed, I'll still not have grieved.
The hard part for me is the 'wanting' to leave.
Tired of living? I just can't conceive.
Watch what you 'give,' you will surely receive
Exactly the same as your intention conceived.
It may have been wrapped in beautiful gold
Expecting more thanks than the newspaper-rolled.
Giving without expectations in mind
Is the secret of leaving this world behind.
Then we get to stay and see what makes us tick
We don't judge, we don't talk, just observe
Don't get sick.
It's not personal. Whew....
Love you Mare, See you there.
i'd just been declared surplus to requirements by my boss
with bloodshot eyes i plodded home completely at a loss
oblivious of my ex-secretary's commiserations
mum's late stage cancer portended impending tribulation
what bruised my heart was my boss' betrayal
his reward for my being unflinchingly loyal
my mind raced to dad's Dane gun, and a well knotted noose, and lethal pills
just one good hot and my sorrows will cease
somehow the thought of my fiancé filled my mind
she was of heaven-so gentle and kind
i'll stay for her. oh such a dear!
i whistled generously, passers by stare
the angelic fiancé turned out a fiendish spouse
she wouldn't cook, she wouldn't work or even clean the house
my income vanished as it came and it was all her effort
she also nagged whenever i offered mum support
but it was her promiscuous lifestyle that often drove me senseless
young, old, rich and poor; she was just so shameless
my limit was reached the day i caught her with my erstwhile boss
homicide was the easier bet but i settled for divorce
to my utmost dismay, the judge added the burden of alimony
to the same unfaithful villain who had wasted my money
worse still outside the courtroom she gave a parting shot
"you were definitely the worst of the lot
even the old judge was much better than you
as was the vicar, the postman and your valet too"
i regained consciousness in the emergency room of a hospital
where i got to learn that my condition had been fatal
somehow, i had consumed some capsules of arsenic
i was just so lucky to have been found by Nick
with tears streaming down my face
i told the doctor all about Grace
for what seemed like ages, he stared blandly at me
then with lips quivering, he said these words to me
“this morning my wife and children were slain by a suicide bomber
i was all set for Israel when you were brought in coma
my duty is to save lives, so i couldn't let you waste yours
life may be mean to us but someone else has it worse
adversities are like batons, you must get them to win a relay race
sorry you just got divorced but therein lies your ace
being alive gives you the chance to get it right again
your ex-wife's loss will be another maiden's gain”
The caring bridge was very unexpected
why I'd survived a horrific traumatic
brain injury an yet my mind was desperate
to learn everything all over I was so
excited when I noticed my flaws while
holding a fork at my favorite restaurant
I forgot how to hold a fork I was so
embarrassed finally I got it what an
achievement I hoped no one saw
as I lifted the mashed potatoes to
enter my mouth to my surprise I
kelp missing my mouth hitting my
cheek my eyes were wide I knew
everyone knows my flaw now my
cheek covered in mash potatoes
it was in that moment I knew I had
to reach out find my peers people
like me broken injured filled with
faith and there it was a bridge
connecting family of all ages
races cultures traumatic brain
injury groups many spoke of
loved ones still in a coma hopeful
that they would spring forward
traumatic brain injury changes
you forever I never thought I would
forget to tie my shoe now my
beautiful children whom I taught
to tie thier shoes was now teaching
me take the loop around ma you
got it good job what color is this
ma it was purple it hurt my brain
I could only recognize yellow red
blue green primary colors nothing
as fancy as teal my favorite or
maroon these colors sent my
emotions soaring and it frightened
me that's okay ma we can try again
tomorrow brain injury affects the
entire family I was so happy to be
apart of the Caring Bridge family
hearing others speak out about
tragedy survivors faith courage
relearning excepting fighting
to keep my brain alive i wrote
uncontrollably constantly at
least ten poems a day maybe
yes my grammer was off missed
spelled words poems broken
sentences i would cry I realized
I was three years old pouting
sobbing coping with pain when
I reached out it was so amazing
a bridge of compassion kindness
finally that caring bridge connected
across America a caring bridge
of hands reaching out giving
supporting sharing caring amazing
generating lot's of hugs with simple
kind words completeness feeling safe
unafraid unashamed to be broken learing
to smile again laugh at your flaws and
get right back up embracing comfort
and joy that built this unstoppable
caring bridge connecting healing
hearts and minds by just caring
i was arrested because my room mate wouldnt leave my condo
then i was arrested because my roomate wanted me to leave his apartment
cousin died after going to dentist
ive been held hostage
222 tips wouldnt take the information, the news wouldnt respond
ive had a gun pointed at me
i lived in an apartment where night after night doors were kicked in
through my relationships i know of 3 people who have been murdered
ive grown a lump on my forehead and jaw due to medication
i endured pain in my testicles for over 6 months, and no doctor would give me the
treatment
in a hospital i was held down and injected a needle, to wake up 3 days later with
nerve damage
father died in head on collision
my computer accounts have been hacked
ive been a victom of identity theft
rash for a year and no doctor could remedy it
molested as child
grandpas estate was a mess
abandoned by mother
hider in the attic who tore up my belongings
grandpa was in a coma
my grandma was quadrapalegic
police have ransacked my apartment
beaten by two cops
victom of drug ring
i have a sister and brother i dont know
ive moved at leat 20 times in the last 15 years
ive flatlined
been homeless four times
my first middle and last names are titles to songs
as is my birthday month and year, good movies too
ive been drugged
woken up with strange bruises
been plajerised
abandoned on the side of the road and strange towns
attempted suicide several times due to medication
know of paralegal and judge scams,
police loophole for the insiders of drug ring gangs
my grandfather was a war hero, on both sides of my family
i at the age of 31 years have yet to have the right to my own person
or live where i want
if the above doesnt sound like torture to you
you are the enemy, and wipe that smile off your face
ive predicted terrorist attack in my tourism class
tidal waves in the hospital
and like i said on youtube charlie, they don't see it coming
i predicted my grandpas coma
a girl with shingles that would live
i still wonder if the conversation i had with kurt cobaine through the television was
real, but he did comit suicide a week or so after,
i know we as people like to sing and dance and compete as we play house
so what would you bring to a remote deserted island?
the list goes on.... im not even kidding
how many people in your life that have been murdered?
probably none
my grandfather was a war herp
coma tosed
to have his wife a cripple
so i could run away scrambling from bs people for the rest of my life
11 tragic deaths in my life,
my family and friends
and their family and friends dropping like flies
the bills sent for the ambulance ride
leave me wondering why did you even bother come
to pretend to save my life
to wake me up and send me out the door
without being able to thank the people who just kept me alive
4 suicides, and im the lucky one to survive mine
4 murders have taken place in my life
and three tragic accidents
i have no idea what it would belike to see my family smile
theyre all dead
nothing but bs people come to watch me cry
who dont know who i am
never talk to me
and have no time for someone like me
off i go back to the hospital for more poison
and brag about malpractice
my stomache that cant digest any thing without pain or discomfort
but hey off your meds i can finally achieve an ********
love music by the way
the terrorist psychological attack with my name on it
offering me reason after reason to cry
what do i need another excuse to hate you
the politicians i cant contact
the police force harassing me
breaking my door down to ransack
stalking me to hand out tickets
breaking my nose afer a hostage situation
and its the bs people who tell me
trying to kill myself was the right thing
the military doesn't care
but make things happen over night
love watching you walk around in your underwear
at my pity party to be happy for you
but im not
im jealous
i hate you for it
your bs people
like these poetry sites with no clue
nice poem huh?
what a read....
go die
maybe after i get crippled they will have the heart to shoot me
but i doubt it
been raped, and tortured, and drugged, and beat by police, and held hostage
to be cyber stalked and have my accounts compromised
off and on and off and on
for 13 years
go kill yourself
war pig loser nation
what do you want me to say?
i know why people drop bombs now
i truly do
put me in a tank
and suck my d ick
existance is my enemy anyway
i hope he quits bothering to live
screw you face book
and twitter is a terrorist organisation
go ask microsoft
Envisions of a new world order
Have infected
My ideologies
Concerning political parties.
Apathetic to the suicide bomber
Clutching his holy scripture
As Jesus is turned
Into an aborted fetus.
Starving for liberation,
Feed us.
The refugee diet
Is to die for, try it.
Stomachs bellow
As anxious toes embrace dirt,
The ravenous pride of the nation
Echoes anticipation.
A scrambled breakfast
Governed by corruption
Served with a life time
Supply of fervent AIDS
Lunch smothered in rape
With a free side of abduction
For the main course:
Genocide platter
Mass produced for thousands
Guaranteed to be
The last meal you'll need.
Original recipe
Provided by Chef Hitler
Improved by Africans.
Honor roll,
Honorable
But when you're in the projects
Good grades
Don't stop strays
Or minimum wage
This is a power point;
Bullet points puncture.
Marauder role models
Personal drive
Is micro soft
Where are their goals?
Error: Can Not Find File
Link to ambition missing
No need to excel
Brain is a blank desktop
That's screen saver
Screams for a savior
Poverty striken hompage
Frozen
Black plague virus
No chance at
Socio-economic advance
Now tomorrow you face book
Crash.
A diploma and welfare check,
Makeshift teflon vest,
At best
Yet,
A mic or a round ball
Provides the best bet.
At ease soldier,
No questions vet.
We don't ask
You don't tell.
Afterall,
We don't even know
What your really fighting for
Or whether you aim to please
Or shoot to kill.
America was stolen from natives,
Built by immigrants.
Dear foreigners,
Thank you for making our bed,
Now sleep outside
Where the homeless won't
But beware of dehydration
Land mines
Barbed wires
And snipers.
P.S. Happy Thanksgiving.
Sincerely,
Your friends in America
I see society with my eyes closed
And wade for the truth.
Diving into the obscure
Pits of morality
Searching blindly
For enlightenment,
Butterfly stroke.
Inhaling the souls of slaves
Exhaling the souls of colonists
Civil rights submerged
Drowning at the border
Gasping for freedom.
This oppression is toxic.
Ammonia aroma
Intellectual paralysis
Socially concious coma.
Divided we've stood
United we'll fall.
-Stephen Kofi Opare Obeng
Once upon a time
On a plateau
In a French hiding place
because in my opinion somebody wrote some cheques
that kept bouncing back
soo much happened
and my father my mother said
was an ostrich
with his head in the sand
but what did she know
She left when we were kids
and seems to know nothing of the reasons why the coal mine shut down
and the cripples and accidents
and the truth of the terror
I'm about to reveal
But now there is no turning back
A grease monkey
Hard hat
Slip of footing
Six feet someone sings today
Isn’t too far
But you know what?
That accident left my grandpa in a coma
A blood clott in his brain
And never knew anything
of how my grandma
On her way to visit him in the hospital
got into a car accident
break failure
Highway 40
Slippery roads
Paraplegic
Years go by
Nothing the same
Grandpa doesn’t know me
Never did
Never knew my name
Or called me on my birthday
I don’t know how he would have felt if he knew I was gay
He owned planes
And airplane hangers
Tools of every kind
And with his broken brain
and dent in the middle of his forehead
My step grandma
Changed his will
and gave everything to my dads step sisters
leaving out his blood relatives
And my dad
pays lawyers
To fight for what is right
I haven’t figured out the life lesson
But I’m not sure if that dent
That soft spot
In his bald head was truly from a fall
I know this sounds paranoid
But what do you expect from a mental case
Who ended up in a mental institute
Running away from pretty much the maffia who murdered 3 of my friends
It was always weird being around grandpa
Remembering him when I was young
The last memory I have of him
Is him telling me yelling at me while I was laughing drinking apple juice
And my dad took me home
and then a little while later came the mysterious fall
Now all this
The twist of how unfair life is
Removed from a will
Because of a woman
who gave everything to my dads evil stepsisters
At the funeral I should have been a pole bearer
Instead in disgust
I couldn’t cry because
There were these strangers doing it
Who didn’t know my grandfather at all
Zen Tango
Nothing could and should take command
If you think you need the punishment
Let love get the better you watch the light gun fire
Ahoy deep in the skallow of Todd
Your trip in the ethereal all murky with fog
Surprise the laughter makes us a believer of something different
Just fine like a good bottle of wine if it's free
Mafia black with a crimson glow
I couldn't talk where was my free will
Through jungles of monkeys who show you your path
Back from the swamps i'am sure i'll never turn back
Aware of the maybes and what if's and some highway of life
Wait one distracted minute after the other
When it takes over you got to run for cover
My best days of life taking on a challenge
My worse days of life simply caring
You see something that's not there
But the background was finely drawn, dogmatic intrepid oblique
I was sergeant stink I couldn't think the other way I could only think of keep this distraction until it sunk through my skin right to the bone
I did it all for to get that feeling so I could check the box
I am not a robot
Citizen Skin
It's you it's me It's all around us
It's Poisoned you with goodness
Significant to have a measure in your soul
Could this be freedom
The ignorance of denial the rejection of society
Man made comfort started with the shape of a rock
Expectation zero years fall memories never made
Except when you broke your own law
Abandon all hope those who pass through these gates
See what makes us great get pissed on everyday
What is obvious is oblivious what is honest is how you will be seen
Make the family work you can't go back
So no regrets no discount truth's no packages that are labeled
For your glory
Mostly labelled for your head to create a cost of your own free will
No sentimental regards to those smoking companies
To the Government who cashed in on addiction
The freedom to have no voice the freedom to live invisible
Look in front of you and tell me whats yours
All your life signed over to these whores
Shout as loud as you can people have tried
They purposely give you it for free.
Then wait and remove the carpet from your feet
Then freedom is worn on a soldiers
New pair of socks
Friday morning
I hopped out of the shower,
popped over to the lavatory counter,
flopped my most profound sexual characteristic
down and onto a misplaced curling iron,
burning the tender center of my-very-being.
Thankfully
Ms. Careless had left a glass of iced coke,
by her torturing implement.
I quickly and fully submerged my pain,
into the cooled, amber liquid.
Friday evening
I attended my first and last meeting
of the Brazoria County Poetry league.
I arrived at the BCPL president’s home
by invitation, to hear their guest speaker,
a young, professor of literature,
from Rice University.
He spoke at great length about metaphors.
What a metaphor was.
How poets used metaphors
to improve imagery in poetry.
He gave examples of metaphors,
and more examples,
explaining each one in detail.
It was raining damn metaphors.
I would have lapsed into a metaphoric coma,
if I had not discovered my bourbon glass
to be much too small, requiring me to rise,
and refill it several times.
When Dr. Metaphor finely finished I
strolled over to where he was smiling,
and announced that he was
full of rhetorical trope,
and didn’t know anything about real poetry,
and he had stepped on a metonymy
and it stank the room up.
And we poets from the sticks
didn’t need a hot-shot from Houston
telling us how to write poetry.
and the president of the BCPL
grabbed my arm,
and snatched my glass from my hand,
and it still had boozes in it.
And he promenaded me to the door,
and assured me that I was talent-less,
and that drinking myself to death
would be my one and only contribution to poetry.
He pushed me out of his home,
onto his front steps,
slammed the door in my face,
after suggesting
I never attend another meeting of the BCPL.
For a moment, I was stunned,
then bowing to his authority
I hurled on his “Welcome” mat.
And Friday morning
as I stood in the bathroom
cradling my tormented body element
with both hands,
the Queen of the Bastille entered,
demanded to know -What my problem was?
I informed her I had no problem,
and suggested she drink her damn coke…
before the ice melted.
She left him there ruined, to drink and to brood
For three years thereafter he held the same mood
Trapped was the artist in a cubicle office space
Torture for his feverish mind and heart now laid to waste
Alcohol was life though he would never call it so
But the bonds were too strong he still could not let her go
Sorrow turned to anger, then to bitterness and hurt
Many nights did he wind up crying face down in the dirt
It was not long before his lifestyle took its toll
And his vices had threatened to swallow him whole
His liver long battered his kidneys near their end
The doctor admitted he had but a year of life to spend
Broken down and scared, the penniless loser fled
Away from all his comforts for the country instead
“There”, he had argued, “no one will have to see
All the pain and all the suffering of the ugly end of me”
Not far from the city Lyla Dawson did dwell
With a successful career and a fiancée Johnny Bell
They lived in the suburbs in a colonial on a hill
With a view of the lake for which most would kill
Yet her thoughts often turned on her old college friend
Of his current whereabouts and the time they’d spend
Talking endlessly in the library and watching the rains of the spring
And how she could always rely on him for everything
These thoughts crossed her mind on a hot summer day
When the heavens tore open and turned the clouds black and gray
A storm front lashed out savagely upon the world below
A driver was fishtailing, but Lyla Dawson didn’t know
With a sickening crunch the cars collided hard
The accident was gruesome, with the driver barely scarred
But Lyla and her boyfriend were less fortunate than he
Johnny was in a coma, Lyla bleeding heavily
As they were rushed to the hospital and I received the news
I decided to call Ryan Adams, who was swimming in his booze
The call disturbed him greatly and he said he would come soon
Yet I saw no sign of the man that entire afternoon
The story goes, a neighbor said, sickly Ryan dusted off his paints
To muster one more masterpiece of his lover with the saints
At last they were together, in that lovely afterlife
Having waited for eternity to finally make her his wife