Long Dyslexic Poems
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12/21/19
Not going to pretend it
I've been feeling rejected
And disrespected
Nothing I said and did
Was effective
Time I take a sedative
Or maybe 10 of them
Was fine one minute then out the next second
THC, pharmaceuticals and alcohol ingested
For the pain, but it doesn't end it
Until it all really sets in
And I'm in another dimension
Where there's no depression
I guess it's
Kind of like a respite
But then reality sets in
Continually tested
And tempted
Many nights I never rested
I've been disoriented
Don't know what direction I'm headed
But I shall not be bested
Or subjected
To anything wretched
I got to be intrepid
Getting wiser and improving methods
So there won't be no crash or wreckage
According to legends
And first hand accounts from veterans
I don't think you get the message
They talk of being destined
And how it can be manifested
Getting closer to the exit
One day it all will have ended
Whether or not, it was unexpected
Might not make it to being old and decrepit
And just may die alone, with no friendships
My nephew dyslexic
And this girl I know, is anorexic
In a world so hectic
It'll break you down, if you let it
Turning into something unpleasant
Whether your an adult or adolescent
No longer very majestic
It's becoming pathetic
I'm tired of being authentic and poetic
As well as what trended
And is recommended
Regardless, they're never going to give credit
Later on or in the present
h e a r this h e a r t …
as hurt hangs low
with cursed fidelity
of fame-lit fakeness,
attached to expectations ~
as wraith-leaves coil
around my neck,
under the veil
of mockingbirds,
wearing a cape of blames
and futile boldness,
caught up in
the hypocritic hisses,
where life is tangled
in a sprawling spool
of moon-moths ~
dwindling in
dreamless desires
where materialistic
monks lilt away
in fatal laughs,
and your crimes
remain lethal,
mummified like a
feather-dressed devil,
taming the loyalty
that laments
without the lustre
of Lucifer
in calcified flames …
lifeless … I lurk ~
in the estuary
of dyslexic dialects
running across
those spinal clusters ~
stemming aimlessly,
from the
kryptonite backbone
of kohl-kissed sky,
these headless
accusations
cannot kill me
with the haunt
of telepathic terror,
because, I am
massacred till the
apocalypse of ashes,
pressed between
barbaric petals
of sunset sapiens
and sea-smiths,
one amongst the
awakened dead ,
feasted upon
and forgotten ~
by those
opportunistic
omen-keepers
roaring in the
carcasses of
vivacious vultures …
some skeletons
do not weep
waning fossils ~
within fondescent tombs,
rather, they
metamorphose
into a twilight-
tipped tree ,
bearing the burden
of unblossomed
spirits who refuse
to let go ~
of their delusional
weightlessness,
as they remain
a shackled souvenir
of satanic inflictions,
that the reaper
could not obliviate.
so, you cannot
set me aflame
with aries eyes,
for, there … uprooted,
I am the Madonna ,
the skull of a
hopeless sorceress
left abandoned ,
as an obsidian oasis
of the femme fatale,
shipwrecked
in your deserted heart …
for, this horizon is nothing,
but a vessel of venom,
a framework
made of bones
and stardust frost ~
where poets perish
pulse by pulse ,
and souls lurk
in osteoporotic caves,
like ticking grenades
in the monet of time …
" but I wish,
if only my satanic tears
could be touched by painless paint ~
unafraid to the horror ,
of the artist's frozen eternity … "
*** Inspired by the artwork ~ Ghosts on a Tree, by Franz Sedlacek, 1933.
Suicide Watch
Time meter swings from a rope in the attics and antics of my mind
barbed in chronicles tentacles of raven swallows ingesting ticking
seconds away from under the duvet of spaced out stretches spell
bound in dyslexic dysfunction in grammar distorted the syntax all
black depicting semantic delusion of clock work’s terminal peace
Deep down and under scratched surfaces of doom awaits another
measure of a different frame mounted shattered fragmentation
evolving from void into the tentative tether awakenings in memories
of a future revisited of a kinder place swinging happily meandering
when the pastures of pleasure and passion mix jubilant exaltation
I am a yo-yo a Ying Yang a fool and a wise man jester and clown
casting dazzling shadows on the mosaic of life through a lens like
a bird on a wire full flight ahead hanging on with a claw’s lacerated
tears and the tempo’s rhythm pulsing heart-breaking truths in the
fallacy of certainty of composure unity and unchanging fortification
Through depression I have received growth enrichment clarity in
regards of the jungle of meaning and live to tell the story of what
reality checks balances juggles foreboding trepidation into calm
composition back and beyond a force forthright and forthwith in
the spur of the moment eternal and fleeting and that's who I am
Sui generis in Ego-cidal watch positioned and roped in by the Self
23rd November 1959 - 19th September 2016
I want to go down in history as a humanitarian like Quincy Jones,
so I'm going to listen to
what he said and, if it rains I'm going to get wet,
also If I want an A, can't be scared to get a F,
so if I dream,
then strive,
I can get it,
I'm going to stay young hearted like frank said,
best way to live in now adays time, because we're living in scary days,
but we have to be broader then Broadway like levy said, and I can, like Obama said,
because I got to dream like Mr King, and I will not move like Mrs Park,
I know I haven't got the best grammar, but to me it really doesn't matter, I'm dyslexic and I
know this, but if i still write down want I was
thinking,
I can always fix it, but my thoughts was not just loss to the moment, but more like
documented in time.
Tallan J Bent 23:55Hrs 06/11/08 (c)
Only read this if you have a good understanding of the English language, because it is all about how word spellings differ but for no particular reason.
This write is quite right in that it highlights the height and weight of the great language of English which is no sandwich and not straight forward mate.
(This right is qite wright in that it highlites the hight and waight of the greight langwich of English witch is no sanduage and not strate forward meight.)
We now know that "K" has special powers but not with knot or knock.
(We now K-now that "k" has special powers but not with not or nock.)
And people say Nike-y but they don't ride a bikey, so it's Nike like Mike.
(and people say Nikey but they don't ride a bikey, so it's NIKe LIKE MIKE, or mic.)
While they're unable to get their head around there,
they sit in a chair and stare like a bear, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where near, but like fare which is also like bare.
(While there unable to get they're head around their,
they sit in a chere and stair like a bere, which is spelt like fear and hear but is pronounced no where nare, but like fair which is also bere.)
Far away cars on Mars are not said like wars, which for sure is more like bore and I'm assured that board is different to ward.
Warlords have been found to have had people drowned, not dround as it could sound, as the power of their throne has grown to fit their waist and they do not waste their God placed authority or make the mistake that the steak with cheese one grates quakes.
On the whole my soul is on a roll to score a goal with this write, because though words are spelt a different way they are spelt the same when these words we say.
I think I'm done and I've won like the Holy Son, or am shining wholly like the light from the sun.
And to think I had special needs, was labelled dyslexic and had ADHD, oh and as well as that I failed my English exam, twice.
Form:
I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day
as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee
I mean, - we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, y, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists,
First, you need to mix the potion.
You must read the instructions very carefully
You don’t want to be summoning up any old witch.
So make sure it’s the October manual.
Especially as we know what happened last year.
How you got October mixed up with November is nobody's business.
But my god, when I saw the fire brigade heading to the House of Parliament, I just thought to myself, what has the idiot done this time.
Now I know what you’re going to say.
What about that little corporal guy you summoned up.
Okay, I take that on board, he looked harmless enough, little pencil moustache set him apart from the usual riff-raff.
How the hell was I to know he wanted to rule the world.
Just goes to show you.
Nearly lost my brewing licence over that.
Then you went for, in your own words, that guy who makes people laugh.
Atila for fun.
Are you dyslexic or what.
The grief that caused
Another warning handed out.
So let's have a look at the screw-ups over the years, see if we can rectify them this year.
This is what you’ve summoned up so far.
Liz Truss
The Tories
The Teletubbies.
That guy who said, I didn’t have sex with that woman, that week.
European Union
Poetry soup Poets
You can see how the coven is not over the moon with this lot.
So, before you summon up anyone this year, I’m going to be looking over your shoulder, make sure you get it right.
Right, the mixture is brewing up fine, looking good.
Okay, begin the summoning up.
Oh, great spirit in the brew, sum us up something new.
Okay, looking good, coming through now.
A big blond dumb looking guy
Right, I like it, do you have a name for him.
Boris you think.
Looks like a Boris, I like it
But the main thing is.
He looks harmless enough...
To my right is Tommy Two-Face
He murdered his wife
He is pleading insanity
I bet he gets life
To my left is Little Lenny
He weighs three hundred and four
They found him with lots of cocaine
I think that he had more
Over there is Billy Kid The
Dyslexic, I think
Robbing people at an ATM
Landed him in the clink
And there sits Mumbling Mo
Disorderly and drunk
Making snow angels in the highway
Wearing only his swim trunks
With these criminals I sit
For my dastardly deed
I was walking my dog
Without a dog lead
I know there’s an ordinance
Saying you must have a leash
But my dog is well trained
And by my side won’t release
The officer was a rookie
Making his first arrest
And slapped on the handcuffs
When his manner I did protest
As he tried to take my dog
I pushed him aside
Saying, “Just write me a ticket”
“Officer down!!!”, he started to cry
And now I’m in the slammer
With this violent crew
For not having my dog tethered
Singing the behind the bars blues
Based on a true story that happened to me many years ago. I felt like Arlo Guthrie in “Alice’s Restaurant.”
Words in the belfry, words in the hall, words in my sandwiches, words for us all.
What if you know no written words? What if you cannot read? What is my world?
Words in my head, swirling around, making me laugh. Idiocy, munchkin and calf.
How would you play video games if you could not read how to win or succeed?
Crazy words, kooky words, sexy words too, sensuous words for the likes of you.
You would grow up in a world, feeling completely left out, practically wanting to shout.
Adjectives like worrisome, intense, sickening, magnificent, gloriously, dependably blue,
Adjectives, smad-jectives, verbs, curbs, pronouns, ho-downs, they all make you pout.
Verbs like shucking, laughing, jumping, whirling, swirling, dancing, prancing, wheezing,
Verbs? You want me to care about something like that? I cannot read Dick, Spot or Jane.
Gardening, swimming, oops, I am switching back to adjectives thinking of brimming.
I cannot read sight words you moron, do not even know what they are, I am in pain.
Words in my pancakes, words changing my food, butter, syrup, oozing, I am in a great mood!
I will have to get along somehow, maybe as a thug, maybe selling coke, maybe selling a drug.
I will be a linguist, librarian, teacher, I will write sermons, songs, maybe be a preacher.
Cannot even play video games, let me be, your written-encrusted world has nothing for me.
Form:
the face on show reveals an issue
I see you looking I see I pissed you
pick your choosing which insult to use
insight you're amusing I see through you
think you've found my insecurity
stand assuredly sure of me
but you're not in my shoes
I can horribly horror thee
tear torsos from talk shoo
you speak your body language alludes
letting loose clues I can flip and abuse
same time I elude your bullet bully
I fight I sully til your pants soil
cus I'm a King accepting toil
scope on your weakness locked in to spoil
crack your shell cook you a la Royal
I've been bullied singled out and embarrassed
the bar's set high
I've learnt I've no one but I
I've been made look stupid
isolated and cry
my red face my fear dread pointed at
nasty things said
tested dyslexic selected
autism bipolar personality disorder
never test positive but not normal
left handed right armed club foot
stood up straight when hit in the gut
I aint a stereotype cliche or a label buster
stapled my head up by a knuckle duster
pain what pain I love it I lust
been lonely with no friend they rushed
I was unknowing to friendship never mend
still I've got balls to drive you around bends
yeah devil level upheaval I'm lethal
the illegal drug and a piercing needle
I can see through your eyes ears and cheek dimples
you assume I'm vacant minded simple
hampered with anger ample angles I can't handle
but you're like all the other people
leap frog forth and fall in to my hole of evil
my psyche unlocks the locked inside
oh I see inside I sight you sly
you picked on a puppet now to gut you of pride
you wanna go blow high and low
with a child of psychology psycho
possibly to test positive probably
you a side act cut from the show
my head weird inside it be it be beyond thee
I learnt young applied acquired skills easy
but think I'm denied a focus capability
can take me down and see the end of me
and with that they laugh and you mentally bleed
you mistook my fools field you can't fall what killed
mind games mate I've majestic ill
you don't even know what happened
I come back again til it end, friend.