What Words Bring

I had to get rid of me

To find Me

The suicidal depressions

And disappointment brewed

From pornographic misconceptions

The boiling, bawling anger I couldn’t control

Tearing myself from the flesh I called home

Descending into the valley, alone

I couldn’t come out until I figured how

Embrace my unique in a cookie cutter world

Screaming and crying until my nose would bleed

I was lost, so lost, it would seem

But when I went to sleep, I prayed to the walls

Please help me, lead me to something better

Something bigger and brighter than me

Everything in my eyes is failing, and I fell

Into dreams I haven’t had before or since

Wash my hands clean of the past

And embrace the new Me, the one you read

I don’t know what my own voice sounds like

Drowning in a chorus of many voices

Some needs are prioritized over others

But I always come back to the poet in Me

For words give me peace

Neither life nor death can bring

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Bored (Simply Writing About Autism)

I became bored

Simply writing about autism

I felt like every one else

Just going on about the downfalls

The misery, the mistakes

It shouldn’t be ignored

But it has its place

I call it An Aspergian’s Chemical Romance

Because I mix love with the acidic burn

Of a childhood gone to waste

The adoration of poetry and prose

Through writing, failing, and gaining age

Withstanding the onslaught of emotion

And fear of being lost without a cause

This place became my refuge and devotion

Another round of poetic potion

Soothing rough edges of a world gone awry

Each line, each time, I raise the white flag

A sign that no matter what they call me

I will always be happy with how I’m made

I stain your glorious day

With a discord and blight

So you may never forget in your riches

There are those killed by your might

I felt with each breath a great pain

Now gone, this desire to feign my name

Feeling Human Again

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Police lights flash in my windows
Rain bears down on freshly cut grass
Paved streets glisten on this Sunday night
Sunday night
Where I play air soft for for hours with friends
Getting shot for fun is fun
Only it’s hella serious
And once you enter you can’t leave
At least that’s how I approach it
Caution mixed with reckless abandon
I’m the man of the arena, and I light it up
(Okay. I don’t. I get shot. A lot)
But quickening reflexes and endurance
Sweat stirs the insides of men
And I embrace the passion and persistence
It gets my mind off my failures for a little
Being too this, too shy to make true friends
Too introverted to become memorable
Too autistic to know if people really care
I can’t read anyone anywhere
But every pull of the trigger, I make it feel pain
The pain it brings me
And I let it loose
Even for a few hours
I feel like I’m human again

The Agony Inside

Cut me loose

And let it free

The agony inside of me

I breathe you in, but it never comes out

Shielded by anger and impenetrable doubt

I’ve made a mess of me

And in the shadows, I wonder about

Which parts they see

What do you ignore

I want to be part of your journey

And then I want more

But I’m too heavy, with my sickening daze

I’m in need so much mercy and grace

Engrained in the darkness

I’m forever stopped in this place

I see neither sun nor sin

Darkness nor birth

Just the electric burn of them saying

I’m less than the worthless

It riddles me in a way I cannot comprehend

Stifling my words, sinister in disguise

Coming to me in an elegant array of sizes

I wash myself of the day’s depths

Sinking deeper in the water, till it covers my mouth

Maybe I should stay

They wouldn’t remember me anyway

Check Please (I’m Tapping Out)

Are you happy now

With the way I turned out

You tricked me out, flipped me off

And scorned me before the world

Aren’t you delighted

With the scars on my face, the crimson stains

Skin dry with hunger for belonging

Eyes wet with thirst for solace

Tears homeless in a sanctuary of brothers

I shiver in the arms of a cold blooded world

Acceptance is hardly an issue

I have not room to breathe

Nor vision to see, shrouded in mystery

Why some resent, but others tolerate

The bridge between the gap wasn’t mine to create

But it is to endure

Till a beginning that renews everyday

And an end that won’t come, in spite I pray

And that’s why they’re never answered

Because I’m angry and spiteful of my past

The things I’ve done I thought would never last

Yet here I am burying their ugly heads

But they breathe within me, you see

See, as long as I live they too continue deeds

Of anxious anger awaiting eruption

Self esteem pressure cooked and boiling over

Rotten glances at those who annoy

Everything hurts, the sunlight burns

The moon tases, the stars tingle

Looking at girls and remembering I’m single

Wondering how hard it is to mingle

Then I do it, and regret

I’m not ready yet (10 years later)

Check, please

I’m tapping out

Therapy Session One

Sitting in the middle of the room

Come on in, close the door behind you

We’re starting soon

Take off your makeup

Throw away yesterday’s eyelashes

Let me see your bare lips

Bitten, bloody, and bruised

Take off your gloves

The marks of chains aren’t mine to choose

Stand up for me, and expose your back

The welts and wilted skin aren’t in lack

The two, rusted lines like railway tracks

Is this the life you asked for?

Why can’t you stand, why do you shudder

What has happened to you child

Tell me

(I can’t help you)

Tell me

(They really can’t help us)

Is it your mother?

Is it your father?

Ah yes, that explains the size of the marks

That distinction certainly sets them apart

Now, what are they like, to start

Why does one help you, and the other hurt

Oh, they both do it

Well that adds some complexity to it

But you say, one is physical

The other is mental

You’re quite the case

Yet not far from the norm

I suggest you go back to them

Because they clearly love you

They express it differently

Have a good afternoon

MISS FERGUSON? THREE O’FIVE FOR MISS FERGUSON?

(You’re doing great kid)

(They’re doing great)

We’re Playing Dress Up and Democracy Is Our Chains

Take me from this church, I don’t belong to life

Humans shattering bones with blood

And taking life with a million knives

Ingrained in our society the absence of rights

Despite aged documents we claim to live by

Ingrained in our food, flowing in our water

Chemicals and poisons that shove us farther

Into the ground, tightening the chains

Into our ears the sound waves of slaves

We build walls around our brothers

Encourage mothers to terminate births

Tell men they have little worth

Tell girls they’re not pretty unless they’re white

Tell boys they’re the reason women have no rights

Tell whites they’re the reason blacks suffer

Tell blacks they will always suffer

 

I need a respite

We missed something, that’s right

 

And what’s wrong is that nobody knows right

Opposing views are shot down

The mob rules the country, drowned out

In their screaming into the air

Or taking up city streets in protest

Of what they can hardly spell or explain

I ask them what’s fascist, they can’t explain

I ask them what’s so sexist, they can’t explain

How can you hate yet have no reason?

You’ve gone insane!

 

#FuckTrump becomes a beacon of light

Only for those to ignorant to see the path

They tread the darkness, they are near to die

They’ve lost humanity, the breath of life

And while #MeToo rightfully encourages

Speaking out against violence and abuse

We are quick to discard men and uphold women

Who speak quite little truth

Emotionally immature, vocabulary quite fictional

Our short term dreams are whimsical

Social media distorts reality, and we crave the lives of others

Main stream media controls reality, but we’re okay with that

 

If you are fine with that

You were probably already dead

But I can’t be

And won’t be

 

 

We Don’t Ask Questions

Why don’t we ask more questions

Why do we do that

Just do

Just doing enough to get by

Just doing enough to make a living

Just enough to feed our wives and children

Enough to be buried

When you’ve had enough

And forgotten

When they’ve had enough

Tell me a story, they ask me

Tell me about yourself

Where do you see yourself in five years

I’m haunted and hungry

Afraid and advancing

Possibly dead, thank you

I don’t talk about my abuse

Because everybody does these days

Somebody questions your logic

And the media calls it rape

I’m not special, yet I’m specially equipped

To say fuck you

Fuck you and your first world problems

Brothers and sisters dying on these streets

But your whole world falls apart

At the mention of a white man

I don’t mind the patriarchy, but if I didn’t

I’d have a better plan than screaming into the air

There’s so many people I’m furious at

So what else would you like to know about me?

We stopped asking questions

Because we got stupid

Millennials get triggered

The real world wasn’t made for feminist snowflakes

I’m surrounded by too many

Drowning in protest and riot

And they’re fighting the wrong fight

They’re wasting their lives

I’ve had enough

Mama Africa, We’re Coming Home

Ignite a fire in their bones

Mama Africa, we’re coming home

Segregated in 2018 yet we are not alone

When I spit these words, I’m in my zone

I don’t bust coverages, just your expectations

Master of standard English this ain’t my nation

Police officers killing our people, but I found a revelation

In the confrontation of the blood I remain in the station

I can’t escape black skin, and the stains attached

Our people are a stain to you, whites have tried to put a match to it

But I can escape your entitlement

Never content with contempt or chains

Put us in the back of the bus

Push us down to the South

Squeeze us into row homes

Punch us into prison cells

But I don’t forsake my calling, the anger causes me to swell

Studying the stares, recording the stalled reactions, to which I declare you’re not well

Not comfortable with my presence

My boiling blood fuels our essence

The spirit of T’Challa is within

The strength of King is within

The revolution of Barack is within

I am the next generation

And I come with thunder

I’m Sorry You Birthed An Autistic

WAMTAC

I’ve been called a lot of names during my years

jerk offs with egg heads for avatars

who never knew my wishes or fears

they didn’t care what I needed, or how I felt

just about the life they had been so unfortunately dealt

I’m so sorry you birthed an autistic

this isn’t the dream you wanted

but the drugs your partner did years ago

now have you haunted

I’m so sorry you have to live with an autistic

it makes you look bad, I’m sure

hand flapping and foot stomping certainly detracts

from your fake bravado and made-up demure

I’m so sorry you have to be seen with an autistic

you don’t look so cool now

when the person beside you covers his ears

at loud sounds

I’ve spent years feeling sorry

for people who care nothing about who I am

just a cute word they can use to impress friends

when chance shakes hands with a plan

just something to make dad feel ashamed about

for not noticing earlier, even though you yourself

no nothing about

my condition is a roadblock in your normal lifestyle

and you’ve cussed me out for planning things out

which, surprise

takes me a little longer while

but it’s okay, don’t worry you

I just keep it all inside

you say you had a hard day

if only you knew

invisible mountains mount heavy costs

until the heart struggles to beat

and the spirit finally declares she’s lost

slowly soul husband carries lifeless vessel

to rowboat tied to a dock

and under his arms he nestles her bosoms

and cries long into the night

the mermaids are bitter, hearing a song

more melancholy than theirs

and fish swim upside down in sadness

while the octopus is surprised

at the depths the chorus finds him there

when strength is breached

and the bridge does sleep

on ears run aground

only then does the struggle of a poet

become exponentially profound