Long Paralyzed Poems
Long Paralyzed Poems. Below are the most popular long Paralyzed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paralyzed poems by poem length and keyword.
And thus I wake from my 30 month slumber
Fuzzy headed and cotton-mouthed
As pristinely damaged as before my rest
When my Reaper drew our curtains closed
Living life in a trance isn't new to me
I don't think I've ever truly woken up
It's easy to define my past with hindsight to guide me
But I don't think I've ever not felt this way
Pale, drawn, immobile, deified
I've conquered endless barriers and lovers
As some passive observer behind a screen
This body is mine, but I am truly just a brain
A gunshot to the chest, a fist to the nose
Nothing hurts as much as fear
And thus only in fear do I truly feel alive
And only in fear am I ever roused from slumber
But exposure has made me sluggish
No longer as potent an aphrodisiac
All the old warning signs are slipping
Further and further away, I descend
Submerged in these ancestral waters
Unable to catch my breath and swim to the surface
I lay on the bottom of this lake, staring skyward
As the currents erode my frame
Locked within my skull, trapped within my brain
An oval stone could break these chains
And serenade me with serotonin once again
And let me move again
I've seen it so many times now
The Reaper unlocking her potential
My friends and mother, not forced into greatness
But merely returning to zero
In a world of Negative, do I dare return to zero?
Do I admit these last few years are real
And acknowledge that I've wasted my 20s
Chasing some childish image of justice?
Or will they fail me in the first place?
Wrack me with side effects or fail to restore me
Take my dream of freedom and break it
Condemning me to a life in chains
It is fear that defines me
Fear that forces me to advance
Fear that drives me to plant my feet and defend
And fear that will make me look back in remorse
For as always, I will fetishize this time in life
And simultaneously curse the opportunities I squandered
For if I free myself now, I'll regret not doing so sooner
And thus I am paralyzed eternally
So kill me now, Reaper
Finish the job you let me escape 30 months ago
Return to zero, sacrifice yourself and put me down
For if anyone is to kill me, I'd want it to be you.
Two hearts glare at each other
Clutching their stone tablets
Written by the finger of their rightness,
Guarding the secret handshake
In single sighted delinquent tantrums
Refusing to share the offertory
Of a loving cup -
Consumed by daggers of thoughtless words
Carved deeply in a scarred heart.
Floral offerings wilt
Upon stone manifestos
Where ashes of incense lay impotent
To clear the air
And wipe clean the embedded words.
Passion falls in pixels of distortion
Blurring valleys where sacred poles burn –
Lie in dust written in the past –
Paralyzed
Unable to rise from handwritten crypts
Placed in captive marble altars,
Epithets like an epitaph for love.
Immoveable stone resists the transcendent
Until forgiveness’ chisel
Re-writes the script of etched words
Crumbling in swaddled tears of humility
That know their need for grace
Consummated in love’s perfect signature.
This is a life sentence,
destined to be alone,
Her leaving me,
cut me to the bone.
The lack of love,
shines in her eyes,
It paused me,
took me by surprise.
There is nothing there,
that I can recognize,
As I stand,
before her paralyzed.
A cold and evil,
Medusa look,
I was played,
by the oldest trick in the book.
She treats me
as if I am a stranger,
Loving her,
has been a game changer.
She tossed,
our love into the fire,
She was so smooth,
at being a liar.
Not even human compassion,
showed in her eyes,
I need to hear the truth,
all she spoke were lies.
It's funny,
her love I have an aching for,
It's powerful,
leaves me wanting more.
I never thought,
she would let me down,
She was gone,
so fast never made a sound.
I remember,
when she started acting strange,
Right about the time,
her feelings changed.
I still sit,
and wait for her to come home,
She is with someone new,
I am all alone.
All I know for sure,
is what I see,
She no longer,
is IN LOVE WITH ME.
TURBO1904 NOV 2021
Hi today I woke up a few minutes before 8am stood up to go pi at 8am
then went to the kitchen to have breakfast, I prayed, did the Rosary then left
to go to my bedroom for Saturday Coffee Chat lead by Ms. Yvette and Ms.
May. I was practicing what to say but unfortunately I did not get to check in. I
was relieved when I finished the whole Daily Reflection on the month of March
and after the group, I did the Living Faith’s Daily Reflection for the month of
April. I don’t know but God took away my voice but He exchanged it and I
don’t want to say better because it’s what I can do. Although I’m disable with
paralyzed left arm I think I can do a good job in writing poetry but I don’t
have any clue of poetry’s Rhythm or Meter. I actually don’t have much words
to say that’s why I’m reading the English-Tagalog dictionary hoping that I can
make at least a Sonnet or a 14 lines poem about I have no clue. I can make a
narrative poem with this story. I printed the how to make a poetry and
embarrassed that I still don’t have any clue in writing a poetry. What I use is
the Daily Reflection of different people in Living Faith, God gave me a gift
breaking a Daily reflection into 4 stanzas or Quatrain in poetry then turn it
into poetrysoup.com where I am a premium member 11 yrs ago when I only
paid $150 because right now is 159. I don’t know what else to say. U know I
didn’t get to speak earlier because I don’t know I’m shy. People that knew me
from before knows that I’m not shy. Maybe because of my disability I tend to
mumble and scared because I don’t want to look stupid, u know this is not
the real me and I don’t like it. I’m a person that some friends say that I have
a thick face. I don’t know why I can’t work. It seems like I need to let out
what I have to say this morning. God please help me, thanks.
Talk about me
Like I am not in the same room
Push me from your priorities,
But your mind will not obey
You must engrossingly aknowledge
The edges that mishapen me
Slide your grubby fingers against the surface
Like you do,
Like you tell your friends
Unlock my insecurities,
With one horizontal swipe
Erasing history
Sustaining shame
All you have gained,
Is what you tethered on the surface
The very surface you despise
That you misunderstand,
The ones that you feed the lies to
Will you never realize,
The reality that hazes into black numbness
With your lingering actions?
You will never see through me now
Because I am shattered, paralyzed
Not victimized, just barely survived
I am rough to the touch...
But what did you expect,
After dropping me so much?
5/13/2016
As I age
the formerly wide chasm between ecstasy and despair
grows narrower,
deeper.
I had not thought this an attribute of maturation,
quite the contrary,
but perhaps an aging crevice,
a thinning fracture
between played-out manic bliss, over-extended harvest,
and depression
nondually faces two extremes
of positive major chords and keys
with negative minor tensions
searching for each other out and in,
become too vocal, focal
looking for tacit evidence
apposition yet lives
on another side
of this darkening
enlightening
divide.
Dr. Jeckyll's confluence
redeeming Mr. Hyde's dissonance
double-binding midway balance
now become a treacherously tight rope
tensioned for resonance and buoyant bounty,
just short of snapping side against side.
Perhaps wisdom is learning how to equitably co-invest
in both wonder and shock,
without becoming paralyzed in-between these boundless awes,
deep wavering yes and please not yet,
not yet,
carving a gorge
deep echoing sacred reverence
and secular irrelevance,
ecstasy with ridiculing despair,
boundless sufficiency without endless satisfaction,
reiterating eternal integrity
not yet surely promised
beyond potential disintegration.
If solitude portends sublime co-operation,
what remains for aching loneliness?
Who and what could become redeemed
through double-binding isolations
within voiceless awe
for wonder indwelling silent shock
of ego loss
deep shadowing eco-gain?
To win to lose,
to lose to win,
co-arising deceptions again.
Deeply resonant depressions;
subliminal,
suboptimizing ego dominations.
Two delineations
with hairline fracturing co-definition?
What would be blissful contentment's promise
without any dissonant content
for comparison?
What are omnipotent spirits
without ego vacuuming materials,
evidence of necessary,
hopefully sufficient,
deep double-binding awe
that we,
even I within we,
have been something,
someone,
someone's,
rather than the far more statistically likely
nothing at all
evermore.
The elf prophecy predicted the Shroud of the Ghost Wife would arrive
in the company of a seventeen point buck; a full-fledged stag
It was well known in Outerland, but not so much in the May Forest.
I had not expected it here. Mysticism should have told me better.
An odd moon captured my breath and held me hostage.
As the Shroud of the Ghost Wife came into my vision I tried to scream
But my vocal cords were paralyzed. I was also rendered immobile.
A terrifying feeling; one I hope to never have again.
I did not know if I was about to be snatched up and taken
To the underworld, or transported to Nirvana.
The only thing I knew was that the prophecy was real.
I sat still, awaiting my fate.
why are our tax dollars being spent on crippled
and paralyzed drug hoods?
why are we supporting teenage girl having babies
and not trying to do any good?
how Is It possible for foreigners
to get supplemental security income?
and where Is all the money supposedly coming from?
yet, when we the American citizens
who have worked and struggled all our lives
attempt to get any assistance from the government
we only get a lot of bull and some jive
what in the world could the politicians
have been thinking about?
when we have families right here in America
having to do without
Is It political policy
over social responsibility?
the American Government aspires
to be the world's police force
by deploying our young men and women into war zones
without any recourse
but who Is to blame for making all these
life altering decisions?
It's not those who don't vote
for they have no voice nor position
now Is the time for all Americans
to step up to the plate
make your voice and choice be known
before It's too late
we need to stop this madness
and unnecessary spending
call the politicians on to the carpet
and bring about some ending
Is It political corruption
versus social reconstruction?
so just get out and vote
and make your choice be known
put who you want in positions of power
with ideals like your own
It's time to take a stance
and get back our power
be more socially and politically conscious
at the voting hour
“Sleep paralysis is like a waking nightmare, except you can’t escape it.” – Unknown
Tonight, when the
jilted bells toll,
my decayed
soul sighs,
I lay paralyzed
beneath an estuary sky
of thin fluffy ruffles-
cashmere mattress
of cotton coated clouds,
with stories over time-
like a silent slave chained
to sinister darkness,
within an ice-gold
casket of nightmares,
as my skin is folded,
wrapped around,
inside black
chiffon clothe-
this mind is
held by ghosts,
shivering from
echoing terrors,
whilst exhaling clusters
of claustrophobic truth,
searching for the
fight between
shackled knuckles,
screaming, yet, I
hear restlessness,
questioning the
angels of sleep;
If this isn’t life
after death,
why do I hear
springs sing
seraphic symphonies
of celestial showers?
Perhaps, the
blinding glow
of drizzling diamonds,
and ivory pearls
of seven
serene seas,
are mere signs of
heaven’s gate
being unlocked.
Although I can
barely move,
third eye keeps
pacing faster
than my shadowed voice,
where I walk down
the lane of delirious visions,
wondering if this is
my Silhouette
in a realm of lies.
For unwritten fate,
has lines of my
life quilted with silk
across a pillow of fog,
where consciousness
is out of sight,
rendered colour-blind,
and my heart remains
a thief in duress.
But as I struggle
to untie twisted
thoughts between
dusk and dawn,
I find stars of relief,
choking on mercy,
wrapped in denial-
I inhale moonlight,
I am now awake.
When I was younger I wanted
to be a ballerina.
So I taught myself to dance
because mama couldn't
afford to put me in dance class.
I made good grades and I
got a scholarship to a
prestigious dance school.
Once I got there the instructors
were hard on me and pushed me
hard.
I found out later that they did it
because they saw a beginner
dancing like a pro. They noticed
my gift and skill immediately.
I was going to go far and I was going
to go abroad and dance all over the
world.
But my dream of being a world re-
nowned dancer died when I was
eighteen. I was in a bad car crash
that left me paralyzed from the
waste down.
I just want to dance again…...I crave it
I hunger for it……….just hunger for it
7-26-19
Alexis Y
*Too Late For Contest
Inspired by the "Hunger" contest
Sponsor: Silent One