They told her three months to live, my heart broken, misdiagnosed thank God .
14 years confused on a pitch without the goals
never knowing how I fell through so many holes
as each I fell through another would unfold
the brain just couldn't process storing in the vault
to later analyse and process the result
but storage overflowed and the circuit cut short
a breakdown stopped their process postponing the report
the brain was overwhelmed from continuous assault
it's called a mental breakdown retreat from the revolt
rebooting only vital zones and limiting your thoughts
thanks to overwhelming stress continuous and cold
flight or fight for too long sees hormones flood the skull
changing how the mind works and the person on the whole
misdiagnosed depression through symptoms it unrolls
but rain floods are not a sea these hormones will dissolve
psychiatric injury doesn't stay until you're old
it's not a mental illness that doctor can't solve
injuries repair themselves, a bruise a scar a hole
people caused your pain, don't let them be involved
Through research I have found
don't conclude that I'm not sound
I made a mistake though Scandinavian
I'm not a Pleiadian
I'm actually an Indigo
it's a flawless fit cameo
I'm rebellious and have always been
I don't conform to society outwardly or within
I wear things people wouldn't wear
if they don't accept it I don't care
the confusion came from my ancestry
but I have found that's not the key
They've also said they're misdiagnosed
and that's true with me tis superimposed
as I burn this clove
hence a timid dove
at times our upbringing causes doubt
now that will be absent and without
I'm glad I have found myself
and what I've embraced to be oneself
Remember that singer, Art Garfunkel
He developed a painful carbuncle
Got down on his knees
Said, 'Don't lance it, please'
The mere thought of blood makes me cry 'Uncle'
Of course, old Art's lost most of his hair
Back in the day, he sure had lots up there
But once he got old
He had this bad cold
Misdiagnosed ~ His doc shaved his head bare
THE WINTER CEMETERY
Awaken my nightmare!
Cold, wrinkled skin, eye circles beyond care.
Tears of beautiful snow.
O depths to which they go!
A horse and carriage show.
The gate — a cliff of iron bars, mine heir.
The creak of springs, the box —
ornate, carries my frozen heart, on blocks
of ice — my pretty niece.
Oh shroud of snow, I cease
to live - i have no peace!
O that cancerous gong of Winter clocks!
Wrapped in woolen fetters,
I boldly stare at these money-getters.
The doc misdiagnosed,
and the nurse overdosed.
In an icebox — her ghost.
This cemetery shivers with debtors.
She’ll be buried next to
you, beloved son, youth taken by flu.
I lean on the hard chest.
Winter blooms on my breast.
Dear son, I’ll never rest!
Cold stones, for bounty, as my flames accrue.
12/20/2017
Rhyme Me A Poem Contest
Broken Wings - Sponsor
Though I don't feel that driven OR misdiagnosed,
Still so many past goals, I find lacking in passion,
Though dragons line up (fancy St. George as toast),
When the battle gets done, it seems flames out of fashion.
I can’t say why the letdown, post finishing quest,
You would think celebration might now be in order,
Drink beer, put my feet up, at least have a rest,
But I put on my hat, saddle muse, seek new border.
Oh, 'The School of What’s Next' is both 'life' and what 'chills,'
For I frequently find I’ve more questions than answers,
But gist of its leading still manages thrills
(As its leaps and twists, voice poetry of lithe dancers).
Trusting Grace is 'sufficient,' is prayer’s simple text,
His provision, my faith; my desire just to serve Him,
To bask in His presence, with praise for 'what’s next,'
Harmonize with creation in eternal Love hymn.
Long Tooth
August 22, 2017
Words forbidden to be expressed
A dangerous fact to be disclosed
Making the whole world depressed
I am sorry that you are so obsessed
With the words never to be expressed
The words are secretly decomposed
Scattered around after being recomposed
Spread like bean paste after being compressed
Taste like sweet chilli that’s been reprocessed
Eaten by idiots who are systematised
The paste lost its nature but it’s flavour is militarised
For the nations, hatred was perfectly modernised
Effectively fighting in the war that was standardised
Such usable propaganda must be fully released
Please sleep on people and be hospitalised
Don’t worry, you will soon be desensitised
Words forbidden to be expressed
A dangerous fact to be disclosed
Making the universe so confused
Wake up, ladies who were hypnotized
Come out, gentlemen who were fictionalised
From where you were unfortunately misdiagnosed
Where “I love you” is forbidden to be expressed
Themes are overlapping
The current keeps criss crossing
Dreaming and digressing depressing and unkind
Mish mash meandering in a labyrinth of minds
Wonder lost.....fingers crossed....
Misdiagnosed and so stupidly maintained
Disjointed mistake.....
Contorted remorse
No kingdom no horse
Replaying the scene
Rehearsing the song ... unmended
Keep doing wrong
How do I check my tongue?
Why does it always come out wrong?
Ill get forgiven - of course
And then I transcend it - much worse
Imprinted my thinking - not right
I keep on repeating .... my plight
Until I get along, its best I walk alone
How to undo this old refrain
Your spirit I fractured - time and again
pain misdiagnosed for three years
encouraging prognoses based on lies
wish I could return to more carefree days
but now I know neuropathy has my life on the line
pain subsides as numbness sets in
in time I’ll feel nothing at all
but the bliss of eternal life
when my autonomic nervous system shuts down
no fear, no tears
just expectation
reuniting with loved ones who passed
sharing love that never dies
in the spirit world
my final destination
*Entry for LeighAnn’s “Afflictions” Contest
Every aspect of life has become political,
A trip to the Doctor can become critical,
because who you are in life never gets left behind,
If folks don't like you, they will treat you unkindly,
They will conveniently forget about the Hippocratic Oath,
and change their white coats for a cloak fron the coven,
slowly misdiagnosing and treating with hidden poisons,
No one is wiser and no one cares, especially if one has money
you will never get sympathizing stares,
They will continue to misdiagnose, overdrug and underdrug,
retribution for not sharing "the spoils",
They won't stop, unless the treated turn into thugs,
They cleverly hope their victims will rot away or have an untimely demise,
actions that are untraceable, makes the risk twice as nice.
The silence is beckoning from the center of a deafening room.
sound giving silence meaning understood by the expulsion of those who are doomed.
the irritable laughter, rumors and whispers and lies.
the deception draws near me with sophisticated intelligent guise.
the words that flow from tongue to ear are like fuses to semtex in the brain.
an explosion so great that only a few who understand the awakening can explain.
the sorrow and emptiness misguided laughter and pain.
misunderstood, misdiagnosed overwhelmed by the hatred and blame
the prideful transgression that they refuse to claim
will be their demise that will bring them to flames.
the denial of truth and the bold display of pride
exudes ones emptiness and vacancy inside
though the act of denial is successive in all manners of flesh
the acceptance of truth and repentance is ones ultimate test.
so pick up your cross and walk your green mile
cause dieing like jesus is dieing in style!
I could not tell the two of you apart.
even when i tried to squint you just
grew narrower
and these words are slender stalks in a field
seamless yet sperate, unrhyming yet punctuated.
i remember sitting in the kitchen with poor
posture misspelling the word absence.
you collected a few of the absract moments
to form are binary convoluted past personages.
who spoke in the third person and misdiagnosed
the moments before leaving only shades of
gray pathologies for us to follow.
niether light nor dark.
i tried to gather a little from the two of you
to trace an opinioned outline of you on
some paper, but the opinions fell down.
so i used instead a magnet off of your refrigerator.
you said something like..... what are you doing
or i think im thirsty.
a half empty half full glass sits on the
counter across the room.