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Best Poems Written by Adam G.

Below are the all-time best Adam G. poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Ableism

Ableism, in the streets in day . People tell me how to walk, when to walk, how to live. ?
because
I'm blind I'm obviously incompetent; even if not this impression they give.
The other night I was in the most pleasant mood when a man grabbed the cane and it's not considered rude.
Just a part of the ignorant theme of America and elsewhere. ; I get it.
Yet the price to be paid is mine and the trauma identity
imbedded
Early afternoon I peeled away the gloom.
By writing down my thoughts and feelings though abstract like the nebulas I've grown to own.
Poetry Soup an some showed me love.
Community, finally, but bliss to early...
To log in you need a Capture code; a little image simple to you but impossible for me.
ablest surely aren't in our home we think; Saturday night live can't truly be that cruel.
Sorry to say it's true.
The spoken key won't fit in the lock; give it a try and put yourself in my rotten shoe .
SNL wouldn't make fun of a Jew, but they brutalize
the blind just as surely as I'm talking to you.
Yes it is true; I am witness; the verbal codes keep me from taking part just as surely as your weight problem meant no prom date.
I can only have my girlfriend log me in so long and then I'm livid and screaming my ostracism
song. feel terrible, side-lined, and wanted to tell the site developers.
I go to the contact us link but of course you needed to see in order to send a message.
The verbal codes inaudible
or at best they can't be typed for glitches.
Call the BBB but unless it's a valid crime then who cares.
If'n my heart then it tears.
If it's my part then it's the role of pulling out my own hair; to pull through?And so I bit you ado.

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No Friends

It's sort of amazing.  
The fact that I have no social network.
Always thought myself social; is it the city?
Even The Red Hot Chilly Peppers had depressed friends while I haven't that.
One moved  away, another I told I'd kill when he looked down his nose at me; one disconnected and Christine got married.
So peculiar but it can't solely  be  	 
 me.
 Tethered  ,  to machines, the fact    is I'm  with robot while the whole world dreams.
Never won a superlative, but I played sports.
I talk to many even   though  there were parties  when I wandered off.
I learned to play and sing, I read about  one or another thing, and not just to keep it to myself.
Then why is it I'm sitting here, so tempted against all odds to take the last step?
 Finish the job and turn in the phone. erase the emails and become uncle Joe?
To  walk solo like Tom Hanks  in  Big; in a crowd behind a shroud.
The irony of it all is  how it ends.  In  the biggest of cities     without  any friends.  …

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The Dream

To turn my back against this circle of smog.
To walk away from it all in a silent fog.
Like the frog, difficult to  perturb and concentrated in a task; I leave town.
never mind  the  chain, the  train, T.V., ., . The race, your face, our  products , or society; just   endless kinhin ; over and past streets is beyond the  water.
Past the homeless is with the homeless. Damn  an inflection, invention of  ease.   The most important part of me is now at peace.

Maybe I won't have a child, but how much better that I'm finally returned to the wild?
Not looking for anything, at anything, just a part of everything.

I know it's a dream,  wake  to  dream it up again.

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Right Choice

Fork in the road which  I remove to eat my eggs.
MIssing ketchup  for my sandwich on the  city museum steps.  
A beggars not a beggar when he leaves an finds  his way a secret clothing stockpile; he changes an he walks away replaced by truly needs it, Now I'm feeling full but tainted.
Sights,  .   wanting to eat the rabbit food.  The masses jam their  corpses with meat; I feel my body unsupported an my mind a haze.
I'm glad  I made  the right choice despite  that no ones  amazed. At least it  happened before the last day.
At least I know for me it's the right way.
 For me I see the maze;   no hope.
 still I stay.
To sit or stan, or eat or pray, but ever after wait and stay.
The right choice under a sky of grey.
Hidden gastronomy  in a hobo's briefcase.
 Knowing it's consumption follows smoking base. The right choice merely to attend the way. .

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32 Years Old and Cold

Sitting there with 
Rosie   Palms.
Heard a tape recently of when only nineteen; the likes in my speech gone  but still just obscene .
  night  while you watch.
An alien breed taking in primal needs; the static image 
forms, ungulate; depraved  ream.
 Re-played the scene; of re-playing me ; Me and space Rosie  addicted to skin.
No longer adolescent
  but developmentally  delayed?
mindful but ignoring the aliens backstory;splayed.   
She was young like me but now she's old and sad.  A  corporate
  pimp took her future  and reduced it to a broken loop.  .
Now that's all  left  for to make  protein soup..

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Placid Pond

Placid pond, the stillest place on earth.
Don't hate the pond scum, appreciate it's worth.
If you want to be with me, then just be with me.
I am the pond scum, please hear me.
 With a belly full of fire, how easily we conspire.
Don't mean to call you a liar but the pond scum sires.
Stay away, it's mud you seek not wine.
Wine has you flapping your gums about the plight of the water hole.
 I'm the pond scum, chains run through and around  me.
The muskrats they found me.
I am the pond  scum, green in color.
Angered and abhorred,  but  I am  your brother 
.

I am the pond scum, I walk with breeze
I am the pond scum, purity through  disease.  I am the pond scum, true to form.
I am the pond scum, the silent storm.
 Overgrown path, concealing overgrown frog prince.
The children  use an awl to cup away the ice;the torpid muskrat freed, at the party he is me. 
Modern    Sophocles    he sees, but at the party he is me. 
You ask him can he hear it? There is a reeking spirit.  It takes the small an makes it all complex; The overgrown path, concealing overgrown frog prince.
Journey with me, through  all space and time; Return  to self and you will find.  
I am the pond scum, I walk with breeze.
I am the pond scum, purity through  disease.
I am the pond scum, true to form.
I am the pond scum, the silent storm.

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Re-Random Calls

I  wasn't right in the head, but no words were said except to the  secretaries, a housewife, and machines.
I  left weird messages about fake products like a kind of heating pad only different.  I spoke bad spanish. 
I was like a sad Jerky Boy but with no schedule or agenda; just depression  and sometime pity sex from an ugly girlfriend.
Finally I hit a low point, heard my own fallible  voice.
Talked for an hour to a too young housewife  about Lyme and pick lines; about broken down cars, lost jobs, and suicide.
We  talked  in an interview style and my stomach filled with bile; it came to an end and she broke through my line with a question of her own.  
She asked me my name to define the call as real  and I gave her a fake name and hung up  the phone.

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Trying To Get To Cleanse

It has been a while since I've seen a smile
asceticism   to clear out bile 
Now all the while  I sit and wile,
 the hours     away cause I'm all about  play.
lemonade  maple and pepper
to rinse away the sins of my wasteful existence
Of eating **** and getting tan; of  missing school and   having senseless   intercourse.   .
I stopped calling friends I stopped eating food.
I only drink syrup, lemons and fire.
I start to meditate when the day starts I can't wait; but how long will it last with out bowel movements;  am  I really human?
	 I'm on day 5 and having nightmares after surprisingly  mild  hunger pains; I'm tearing open my chest  for an alien to bed down with straw in my empty intestinal track.
I start to eat again too soon, call back up my *****y girlfriend, and quickly gain 20 pounds of      fat.
Now I'm a realist no longer conscious; I threw out my resume, I gave up on cosmology.
I don't  go outside, I envy the man who dies; I'll never try again.

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Iranian Canvas

Made of wood. I know I should; excise the inner fires turned solid. my life's eyes tell me of your future colors; yet to me unconscious
.
Instead no dread, of the black out and the work to attack you with furious brush strokes, hand and arm; eyes closed.
pinnacles of mind light projected on a black hole stop time for three levels:
Shadows. Dancing in a doorway and alley side.
Fogs and mysts.
Join and then depart from a centaur battlement; the impressions of a fantastic dream of past years.
Final victory is hinted by pastel tones. The result is all a question in continued blindness to it; beauty or not it's given away in love.
The story your dictation; the weaver of Iranian yarns demands total silence.
Meditation. An Old man's quest.
Complete.
I had thought that what was wrought; the tiny pinnacles never to develop into physical blooms; it was your discovery.
Wooden square of complete abstraction.
Feelings fit in shapes by magic.
Colors launched and the laboratory thrumming; the naked human works while the wood begins to shine. Forest on an island in outer space with a cloud wearing a rye expression. Of mirth
. Maze of depth opens a door to your heart through my process.
Blending; Death of apprehensions into an image of your favorite flashbacks. ; your most needed fire place; embers of spoken unreality
Somehow.
Intention leads to perfection; duality through splintered rainbows. It began with a most feared canvas. It began with an Iranian canvas.

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Sewn In My Eyes

Waking up with dreams still in my eyes.
It's amazing  there still there.
rust and whites, blacks and blues.
dispersed colors from  somewhere.
sitting in a bungalow, in the middle of  some woods.  Chocolate mixed with cocaine, heroin,  and more.  
patients  as wardens, marching through the door. I'm the addict .
Can't be selective, substances take hold, wandering through the woods, stumbling through decades.  Zombies injecting in broad daylight, taken to the other side, a legal quagmire.
 broken heart, stiffness to walk, destruction of my body.
Today in group held hostage by the word preternatural, wanting to  move on  but can't move on.
Lay down to sleep and go to bed.
Wake up with images sewn in my head.