The world spins fast, I can't keep pace,
Thoughts collide in a crowded space.
Endless whispers, too sharp to hear,
I can't escape, they're always near.
I'm tired of the pills, I'm tired of the fight,
Chasing the silence, but it slips out of sight.
I long for a moment, a breath, a release,
To stop the storm and find my peace.
Every swallow brings a bitter taste,
A sickness I can't seem to erase.
I want to rest, but the noise won't fade,
A mind in chaos, so deeply afraid.
I'm tired of the pills, I'm tired of the fight,
Chasing the silence, but it slips out of sight.
I long for a moment, a breath, a release,
To stop the storm and find my peace.
Will I ever find a way to slow this storm?
To heal the wounds that I can't transform?
Or am I meant to wander, lost in the tide,
With thoughts that pull me from side to side?
I'm tired of the pills, I'm tired of the fight,
Chasing the silence, but it slips out of sight.
I long for a moment, a breath, a release,
To stop the storm and find my peace.
I'm sick and tired of the deplorable Charlie Kirk news.
Both sides are acting like they've never spent any time inside church pews.
The shifting hypocrisy and the conscious lying ~
wouldn't surprise me if every saved American soul in heaven is crying,
wondering how much else their beloved country can stand to lose.
(“Creation Myth Merit Badge”, 2016, original oil)
Death Cult In Our Midst
There is a death cult in our midst
Some you can tell, many you can’t
Until they open their mouths
And out comes the hate for Life
And cheering on of Death.
Everywhere you look you can see the cult
Online, on TV, in movies and games
Where death and destruction
Is glorified and normalized
And you score points and win
When you kill.
The line between fantasy and reality
Thus blurred and/or erased
Leaves US where we are today
Broken and divided
Fearful and emboldened.
What does tomorrow bring?
More death
The cult dreams, whispers, chants and sings.
More death
Until only the pure remain.
(9/15/25)
It’s a truism that you get what you pay for
Or vote for or ultimately what you deserve…
But when we pay illegal immigrants
To stay in five star hotels with pre-paid debit cards
And the homeless to just hang out with food stamps,
Cash handouts and Obama phones
What do we expect will happen
But for the problem to grow!
And so we watch a nation crumble
Under the weight of its own excesses
Fueled by bleeding hearts,
With blood collected in taxes
And just poured into the streets
And down the drain.
Where does it end you wonder,
Wherever the sewer takes US.
(9/7/25)
Poor Peter is feeling so glum.
He can't go and play with his chums.
A bad case of the mumps
has him down in the dumps.
"Stay in bed!" - strict orders from Mum!
When you feel sick, shadows take their place,
I long to hold you, touch your gentle face.
Yet barriers rise, unseen but firm and tall,
They keep me distant, though I give my all.
I dream of walking through the stormy air,
To whisper comfort, show how much I care.
But fate erects a wall I cannot cross,
And every step feels heavy with its loss.
Still in my silence, prayers surround your bed,
Soft wings of hope will circle where you tread.
Though I am far, my spirit stays so near,
It fights the distance, conquers doubt and fear.
When sick fades, may sunshine warm your sky,
No chains, no walls, no shadows to deny.
For then, at last, my love will freely flow,
Beside your soul, the place I long to go.
The Good was Taken out of the Summer
The good was taken out of the summer,
With her garden patch left abandoned,
Lettuce heads and scallions gone wild,
Her sweet summer plans all spoiled.
The good was taken out of the summer,
With green fly festering her roses,
Overwatered orchids on the sill
As her plastic bread bowl lay still.
The good was taken out of the summer,
With Hunter, her dog left in waiting
For her voice, her footsteps, her care
And the fridge in the kitchen left bare.
The good was taken out of the summer,
Put on pause til her homecoming came,
While in convalescence she lay
In a nursing home, day after day.
The good was put back into summer,
When she returned to where she belonged,
To her garden patch, Hunter and flowers,
To sit,
To be still,
To be ours.
Tonight in her the man in the moon is young —
He pulls her skin like a dog's white fang biting,
A chain above in her throat like a lump hung,
She's an apparition under his body —
All his crater's virtuoso in her struck.
The dreams still go on with so little lighting,
Another prison his peripheral view —
It's woman glimpsed in, by the man in the moon.
every breath was a wheeze
sometimes it sounded more like a whistle
who was making this sound?
I stilled myself the best I could
my nose was whistling
my mouth was wheezing
two perks of being an asthmatic
add the perk of having to struggle to breathe
and you are part of this party
My heart cries
With no tears and no sounds
But not less sadness and sorrow
Aging, sickness and disabilities come one by one
Happiness and youth comes and goes
Nothing in this world will last
Maybe only love in my heart
Or maybe in your memory
He rubbed my feet while he raped me.
Wanna know what unhinged looks like, America? You’re looking at it. The Biden era is over thank God, and with Trump back in the White House normalcy and sanity and common sense returns. Congratulations to American Eagle jeans for leading the way. Woketards can drown their sorrows with a can of Bud Light.
A blank page,
A blank mind,
My thoughts consumed by one thing…
You.
I tried burying myself in organising,
And even then you pop up everywhere,
It’s like my brain won’t stop,
I can’t do anything without you,
Or so it seems.
I’m shaking just thinking about losing you,
But yet there’s a peace in me,
I know you’ll be fine,
I know you’ll come back,
I know…
I don’t know,
I’m convincing myself of what I know,
But I don’t believe it,
Not until you’re safe and sound in front of me.
So for the love of god,
Just come home
Double time hits for the ceiling —
The clouds of white smoke, the healing
Childhood in my skin finally relaxes
Everyone around me in lapses
Coffee forms the swollen cheeks
With history's pick of bean
Water remembers
Water pushed under embers
The percolator
Like some wound drips her.
Eyes on the preppy barista —
Maybe we both see in similar vistas
She writes down my choice of expresso's dark
God, if ~her youth~ could start my heart.
A cup with fingers locked for style,
The young woman plays in the mud awhile.
girl and her daddy are in the doctor’s waiting room
neither of them appears to be sick
she looks especially well.
Her eyes are bright, and she is moving around like a bubble
She smiles at me and waves.
I wave back, glad to see her.
Maybe they are here for a camp check-up?
She turns and regurgitates all over the seat.
Her father takes his time noticing.
He has been looking at his phone.
Specific Types of Sick Poems
Definition | What is Sick in Poetry?
Poems Related to Sick
disordered, indisposed, down, ailing, incurable, funny, nauseated, debilitated, invalid, wobbly, frail, imperfect, suffering, confined, impaired, peaked, ill, tottering, green, mean, bedridden, defective, delicate, diseased, feeble