Details |
Charley Wakefield Poem
ping.
transitory hysteria—
just a check in
automated, fabricated,
robotic inhuman software
conscripted to, destitute
of mortal empathy.
nevermore your communication
yet condemned to hope.
reticence prolonged anew—
boundless, asystolic display,
pulseless heart
undesired, inconspicuous.
isochronous laxness stemmed
inconcurrent pure affection.
adoration inequitable,
hanging time itself
costing soul and morals
for your gratification.
ping.
amperages of delirium,
spasm of pleasure, cardiovert
mechanical thumping afresh
owing to invariable closure.
retina regulated to contact—
titillations unparalleled
abstract surpassing acumen.
ingenious mayday, wholly
for schooled minds,
lapses to neglect by all.
ablution, deterring loathing
of own stupidity, yet
detrimenting tranquil sanity.
personal beguilement, reiteratively,
“I love you,” an utterance
seldom transcribed from them,
devoid of inevitability.
edge pressed to tissue,
unseamed cephalic vessel
surges sanguine fluid
cruelly ironic, amassing atop
the very accessory
of inconversable love.
anaemically ascertaining
for anguishes and sorrows,
saline flaps flutter in irrevocability.
cadaverous repose,
unfettered.
ping.
ping.
ping.
ping.
ping.
Copyright © Charley Wakefield | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Charley Wakefield Poem
melancholic tidings—
optimism asystolic, now
fool’s paradise.
laconism stentorian
saline fluid agglomerating
“malignant” obfuscates,
formulates black stars.
fluttering, clouting
against ghostly pale tile.
aesculapian screams
circumnavigate weak cerebrum,
foxtrotting endlessly,
cold-blooded mockery.
serene bedrest
sinking linen counterpane.
morphing, suffocating
anaemic stature,
tasting like metal.
thrashing abnormal growth
actuate tunnels unending
i feel it.
i feel everything.
head encumbrance,
vessels strangulated,
blue skin a horror.
needle-punctured, scanned.
inhuman study. a specimen,
neglected medical non-priority.
fragile. no mind.
deteriorating. weaker.
sick. morningly.
please. help. ignored.
stained. vomit. pale.
monitor accelerating.
oxygen. chemotherapy.
please. help. me.
i. am. human.
bottom. medical. food. chain.
neglect. oxygen. oxygen.
oxygen. oxygen.
need. medicine.
nurses.
loud.
sonorous.
ringing.
light.
hunger. thirst. taste. smell. vision. touch. hearing.
taste. smell. vision. touch. hearing.
vision. touch. hearing.
touch. hearing.
dont. go.
hearing.
loud.
asystole.
Copyright © Charley Wakefield | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Charley Wakefield Poem
grief— posture stiffened
blurred disheartenment
the visage of subpar
staring back, hopeless
guttural midriff reverberations;
sighs, tolerating platters
ultimately grasping—
everlastingly out of reach.
fury— condemned to observe
perfection elsewhere, nevermore
my own, imperfection a bitter
aftertaste of juxtaposition.
perpetual torture,
sickening phobia that
I slog a laughing stock, a
blissfully ignorant jester.
envy— offhandedly able
to swagger, bareless upper half
devoid of inner critique
waltzing a cruel shape.
Yet shackled slithers of
short-lived contentment for I,
unchained humiliating realization
that all click and stare mockingly.
anguish— social gatherings,
stuffed faces converse heartily.
nibbling, flavours burst,
overwhelming explosions
from bare toast. bated
belly hoping that it
can cherish too, but
terror. to the surface afresh.
futility— monotonous drones
“it does get better”
void promises, attempting
to blanket stark reality.
a piece of cake for them,
ironically unfortunate.
my stomach doomed to muse
what cake even is.
weakening, my mind asks me
“will it get better?”
as my bodily systems
shut down one by one
it never hears me
utter my response
just the empty grumbles
that never get cared to.
Copyright © Charley Wakefield | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Charley Wakefield Poem
waltz partnered by the phantom
that was your once loving self,
undoubtedly accompanied by
potent hopeful aromas, yet
undertoned by doubt upon
translucent features materializing,
your true colours, feared interference,
ghostly eyes boring elsewhere.
a dance now sluggish as
upon the lower limbs formation,
choosing actively to escape
abandoning miasmas
of potent rotten love
intoxicating with dependence
that's not mine to chase.
unanswered questions linger
inescapable transformed rhetorical
that should've, for once,
forced a truth from your lips
that burn with lies, eternally aflame,
bringing every soul down with
your unfaithful, meaningless kisses.
lone upon the laminate dance floor,
as if a shattered mirrorball
the shards bursting fool's hope
right in the heart. pained reflection
of better times, ignorant
of the vast masts of red fabric,
washes through like waves—
yet drowning, flooding with woe
meandering every vessel
it swirls with acid
leaking from streaming ducts,
mixing with cruent crimson wine
from your backstabbing
dance affair, filling,
scathing the lungs aflame.
the last sooted breath stings—
tasting like bitter betrayal,
piercing the heart with finality.
it gazes as your heart swells,
for the next pretty thing,
and it shrinks tenfold
with hopeless realization.
Copyright © Charley Wakefield | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Charley Wakefield Poem
unfortunately I rouse,
incapacitated, fettered,
fuzzily sensitising to
my bedchamber, I ruminate
and periodically deem adequate.
eyes hanging with encumbrances,
engendering the plagued gaze,
empty and dull of scintillation
that flickered out lang syne,
inadvertently blighting all
who love me enough to meet it
with sorrow and remorse.
bitter utterances resound—
sarcastic, playful, yet
it swipes at my skin, scarring,
each reverberation swells
the ache, once dull, now palpitating,
degrading my ability to exist.
repugnance laces my features,
sewn into the cavities and pits
inside I can’t otherwise fill;
dentition stained, a miasma
of decay, tainting energy
emptily pledged to sustenance.
my body a vinyl record
obscure, weakened, aimless,
and the community the stylus,
passing over me, yet somehow
boldly navigating my scratched shell,
incapable of realising
impairment is done to the core,
ignorant that the music,
even with perpetual
interrogations “are you okay?”
like a broken record,
erelong will stop playing.
diamond grazing integument
unravelling muscle, a dazzling show,
zenith of the symphony,
populace vocalising and jiving
over the sound of my wails,
misconstrued to entertainment
solely from my torment.
severed sinew gathers in
accruals of sanguine liquor.
unseamed as the music crackles,
fading to a somehow louder silence
upon the tragic epiphany
of my lacerated cadaver.
Copyright © Charley Wakefield | Year Posted 2026
|