The relentless enemy, from a trench,
Wages psychological war.
Against the barrage, your teeth clench
As he fires shots you can't ignore.
You are not good enough; you must do more.
You are inadequate, for sure.
Better yet, don't get up from the floor.
You're bound to fail, simple and pure.
Your foe escalates with a hand grenade -
You are a pathetic case.
No one could ever want you, I'm afraid.
Stay home and hide your face.
Your brutal antagonist now drops a nuke,
And you freeze inside your core.
In this world, you are a freakish fluke.
There's no place for you no more.
Oh, the pernicious, insidious dread -
It's the voice from the trenches in your head.
Harry was lowborn.
He felt ashamed and subnormal.
Hapless, luckless, useless his parents told him.
His self-talk was negative. Loser, fool, creep.
Sally fell in love with Harry.
She saw his goodness, his empathy, his compassion.
She did her best to build him up.
But he could not change his opinion of himself.
She was good.
He was bad.
It would not be fair to her, so he broke it off.
Sally could not build him up as fast
as he could tear himself down
He lived a lonely, sad, solitary life.
Living down to the expectations of his parents.
They always said he was no good.
A observer of people in this Society I've notice routinely have conversations within themselves are etched crazy. Self Talk
Is it because it seems no one cares to listen? Or one is to preoccupied within themselves. Self Talk
Exhausted maybe? because of one's hidden agendas presumably? Self Talk
Someone once said Self Talk is an expert who have discussions within their opinionated self. Self Talk
It's the internal
dialogue within one's mind
with oneself to guide.
It's that thought what stops,
diminishes one’s desire
to take correct steps.
It spoils confidence
in one's ability to
reach the potential.
To stop negative
self talks, needs to fend them off
by change of thoughts flow.
Need to substitute them with
more positive suggestions .
~X~X~X~
Poetic Form:: Haiku Sonnet
The basic premise of the haiku sonnet is simple:
4 3-liner haiku plus a couplet of either 5 or 7 syllables adds up to 14 lines,
the same number of lines found in a sonnet.
The guidance by the poet named David Marshall.
-Begins with a sequence of four tercets with a syllable count of 5-7-5
- Ends with a couplet with a syllable count of either 5 or 7 syllables per line
-No meter and unrhymed
Reference::
https://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/haiku-sonnet-poetic-form
https://adamoftheuniverse.poetry.blog/2019/09/12/week-sixteen-the-haiku-sonnet/
when loneliness converts to solitude
emptiness grants company
for heartfelt contemplation
complements Yin with Yang
without chatter and restlessness
silence speaks volumes
as I listen to my tune
24th March 2021
Relax
It is only
for this time that we live
testing the fiber of our faith
Repeat
All of life will be satisfied
from butterfly to bee.
My gods got it.
Let go.
5/7/20
Let the Pens Flow - Butterfly Cinquain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jenish Somadas
The voice you hear the most
Holds the most power,
And what it says
Is the most important.
Kale Brereton
April 10, 2019
www.thefreethinkinghuman.com
Hold me down, then watch me rage.
Hold me back, I'll disengage.
Control me, and I'll just rebel.
Challenge me, I will excel.
Simplify me, but I'm complicated.
Fitting in is overrated.
You can't limit me with your low expectations.
My confidence matches my high aspirations.
I'll stand out despite your suppression.
I can't blend in. I am the exception.
Knock me down and leave me with bruises.
I'll rebound from your senseless abuses.
Kick up dirt, but I'm used to the mess.
I'll close my eyes and get undressed.
When the dust settles, stay composed.
I'm untarnished, and I'm fully exposed.
In my head is a little green monster who wants to put me down.
He has a pointed purple tail, and he wears an angry frown.
He says such mean things to me, he used to keep me mad and sad.
Now when he starts up, I barely hear him, and this is rather rad.
He used to call me loser, tell me I was not so good.
He used to put down my choices, and called me mean words like “a hood”.
He used to tell me I would always come in last in every kind of race.
I heard him in my cocoa, my math class, and every other place.
He was an uninvited monster, and he ruled me long and hard.
He was aggressive, and mean, made my life feel like a chard.
I stopped listening to him, when I became a baby child’s mother.
I knew I had to throw him out, so I did, in which way and another.
He kept creeping back into my mind, whispering stupid, mean stuff.
I had to get vicious with him; I threw him out, and frankly, I was tough.
Finally, I told him he could stay, but only if he was willing to change.
Now he is my advocate, and my friend, for we are both deranged.
It is impossible, your morose self says.
Do not try it.
You will fail.
Your joyful self laughs at morose's silliness.
We can!
She says.
We do!
We will!
Let's start this second.
But wait, sad sack morose self says.
Do I not get a say?
You already did, joyful self reminds him.
Usurping him in every way.
Thank God!
Playing poem-making today. Twisting my brains into position.
They are resisting in no way, realizing grown up Caren is in charge here.
I start a little gorilla missive.
It is going along nicely, and I am humming the rhythm.
Pleased with myself.
Suddenly two of my childhood dendrites grab it, throwing roller skates on it.
They turn my darling purple gorilla into a Scottish Eunuch who is running from a custard-pie shop owner.
“No, no, no,” I yell. “WHOA! STOP! SLOW DOWN! QUIT THAT!”
I am furious.
I have no idea how to spell Eunuch.
Look it up, stupid! One of them yells.
Yes, idiot, look it up, another dendrite hollers.
They giggle, and I watch them give each other a high-five,
They think they are in charge again.
But they are not!
These are two of my most
Un-favorite bullying, internal
Childhood voices.
I recognize them as Chip and Dale.
Extremely annoyed, I
Throw my pen and tear up my computer.
I can feel myself screaming internally.
My heart is racing.
Thank goodness I have matured.
Thousand thoughts rummage the grey fluff.
Gloomy, godawful voices thump in self-talk
"I'm an idiot, a loser,...... it's all my fault".
Autopsies of the past, tear my flesh,
Regrets of a decade, devour my heart.
Rant of betrayals suffocate my breath.
Capricious sentiments egg me to a wreck.
Loud conch shells stalk me in heavy weight.
I sink in the abyss of "What'll people think?,"
I wish I could not hear what my mind says.
Isn't that echo the shadow of my sound ?
With a mind of steel, the Ventriloquist vowed,
I'll flash away that swampy dummy puppet..
I'll end the endless sabotage of that parrot..
It's my journey, .. my thoughts, ..my dreams.
PLACED FIFTH IN THE CONTEST
13th January, 2019
Plucking the Poisonous Parrot Contest
Sponsor Maureen McGreavy
Today was pink yellow and orange.
Started out red and purple
Concentrating on sore throat
Oh woe is me
I am unhappy
Why me?
Remained dour for hours
Until I forced myself to pinken
By picking up a canvas
Lost in the colors for a few hours
Forgetting my sore throat
Orange on my finger now
Coaxes a smile as I
Remember the yellows
And oranges that distracted me
In their prettiness
Color therapy, garden therapy,
Painting therapy,
Grandchild therapy,
I am pretty easy
Knowing how to
Eliminate or camouflage
A red and purple day.
Crazy
Kooky
Silly
Charming
Fabulous fantastical maker
Seated on self-discovery throne
Trapped like a fish in a simple fish bowl,
Unable to break out to be free,
Unable to escape the abuse of my world,
The abuse directed at me,
I’m reminded, each day, I’m not worthy of love,
Reminded I don’t have the right,
Reminded that it is all my own fault,
That I am no more than a blight,
And yet I can’t run, a can’t flee from this rage,
I can’t escape, I can’t even crawl,
I know I can’t stop hearing these words,
I cannot escape this at all,
Because these words, these phrases of hate,
These horrible words that are said,
They’re shouted at me, every day, loud and clear,
Shouted by me in my head.
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