Awareness Poems
"The weight of borrowed time."
by Dylan Wu Rong
Childhood is defined by innocence,
since the little hearts only know of the beauty,
the beauty of the butterfly,
the beauty of falling leaves,
the beauty of mid-summer night,
the beauty of first winter snow.
It is when those hearts see the hurt,
the hurt in the aging wings,
the hurt in the cold bare tree,
the hurt in the harvested seeds,
......
How do I explain? (A poem about Borderline personality disorder)
by Allison Anderson
How do I explain
That my emotions are painful
That happiness is euphoria
That anger is blinded rage
That love borders obsession
How do I explain
That my emotions are my enemy
That sadness is suicidal thoughts
That pain is an agonizing fire that consumes me
That emotions are a hurricane
......
fleet-footed good
by Rikske Kessner
And as you walk through these familiar streets,
You notice small details you used to overlook:
The worn-out benches where people rest,
The graffiti that boldly splashes stories;
The fleeting smiles of passing strangers…
Each moment feels so much more precious-
Each breath a gift, not to be taken for granted.
You accept that endings are part of the journey;
......
Autopilot
by Falling Awake
It seems I don't know quite how to respond,
To the pain present, within and beyond,
So, my subconscious defaults to the lead,
With habitual patterns, I proceed…
Reliant on instincts and emotions,
These primal pathways take me through motions,
Now I’m acting rash, values misaligned,
Hurting loved ones in this stressed frame of mind,
All because I’m unable to pacify,
My cortex, drenched in stimuli.
......
They know
by Aletheia Tinea
The eyes stare and creep out of the sockets, leap from the skulls. They fall to the floor, slime and goo running down the slouching cheeks from the black void abysses. The eyes still stare. Spring tiny feet, arachnids’ feet. Slowly, disjointedly crawling, slime trails behind them, towards me. All the colours, creeping closer, reaching for me. I run into a corner, close my lids, receding into myself, folding into where everything is dark, and nothing can reach. The shadows trick me into peeking. I look through my hair; one blue eye has reached my foot. Rooted, I want to squish it, but my will freezes and the screams scratch and rip my insides and tear my throat and pull apart my vocal chords but still the little blue eye creeps and crawls and climbs my leg with its furry little spider legs and it reaches my shoulder and whispers
I know
and the slime and goo slide up my cheek and the legs push my eye rolling it back into my head and the little blue eye climbs in the socket looking into my brain seeing everything and hating the ugliness almost as much as i do
"The weight of borrowed time."
by Dylan Wu Rong
Childhood is defined by innocence,
since the little hearts only know of the beauty,
the beauty of the butterfly,
the beauty of falling leaves,
the beauty of mid-summer night,
the beauty of first winter snow.
It is when those hearts see the hurt,
the hurt in the aging wings,
the hurt in the cold bare tree,
the hurt in the harvested seeds,
......
fleet-footed good
by Rikske Kessner
And as you walk through these familiar streets,
You notice small details you used to overlook:
The worn-out benches where people rest,
The graffiti that boldly splashes stories;
The fleeting smiles of passing strangers…
Each moment feels so much more precious-
Each breath a gift, not to be taken for granted.
You accept that endings are part of the journey;
......
Autopilot
by Falling Awake
It seems I don't know quite how to respond,
To the pain present, within and beyond,
So, my subconscious defaults to the lead,
With habitual patterns, I proceed…
Reliant on instincts and emotions,
These primal pathways take me through motions,
Now I’m acting rash, values misaligned,
Hurting loved ones in this stressed frame of mind,
All because I’m unable to pacify,
My cortex, drenched in stimuli.
......
Magnolia
by T. Caddy
Sitting under the magnolia tree in late summer
The sky is a luminous crackle of varnish on an ancient vase.
I am staring up, staring through a creature’s veins,
innumerable shades of verdant gold
sap rushing into and out of cells,
botanical respiration humming
on just the other side
of sight and sound.
The tree says nothing
and I say nothing.
......
You know my name
by Earl GrubbI set upon my hardy stead and survey the land . His color is pale up to his mane and crown. Do you know my name. The is land is now filled with calamity and pestilence a foreboding sign. Inheritance from the ancestors who dug from the ground and flung to the air without any bind. Do you know my name. Greed and malice has spawn this tide. And stewardship of this land has been lost through the stride. Do you know my name. Though speed of knowledge has tripled on fold. Wisdom has been lost as told in the book of old. And the spawn of evil and false prophets make there stand. Fools of follie with names of Thump Pout and Xing portray to their followers a superior command. Do you know my name .Will this lot stay the course and bring forth the apocalypse foretold My followers await for they are many Legion amongst them whose reigns of this stead they ultimately hold. Do you know my name. My name is written by a biblical sriib. It is in the book of Revelation which you can confide. You face me every day with good and bad. I am the last stand that will come upon this land. You know my name
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