Sick Of The Autistic

I’m just sick

of the autistic

genius are some

interesting are none

ruining my world

causing my advances

to become undone

stimming is gross

do it somewhere else

pleasing yourself

to lower anxiety

you have less than none

in sympathy from me

you broken and breaking

mentally divergent fool

no program or grant

could ever amount

to the reality that you can’t

compete with me

don’t lie to me

they say be anything

but you’re nothing but a nuisance

to us

don’t fuss

just jump

and return to us our peace

who cares about your broken pieces

I’d taste just as sweet

if you weren’t analyzing so much

cut and bleed

stoop and scream

die and dream

you’ll never make it on your own

don’t try to be a hero

and why be a slave

when you can be a fraud

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This Is For The Aspies

 

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(As of now, this is my favorite poem I’ve EVER written)

This is for the aspies

Locked way in their rooms

Drawing, writing, reading, singing

Trying to fight off the anxious meltdown

Sure to come soon

This is for the aspies

That couldn’t get homeschooled

And had to suffer in public school

I cant imagine what that was like

And if you got through, thank you, but it’s not right

This is for the aspies

Who wear the same outfit everyday

And flap their hands when excited

I see the stutters, stares, and stumbles

And I love it

Because this is for the aspies

That don’t get the recognition they deserve

I’ve seen the hands and heard the tongues that produce beautiful words

Works of science, art, and math

Or maybe something simple like just making their own path

This is for the aspies

You never see, but always find

Too anxious, too shy to notice the time

They’re there, but won’t trust

Their own voice

This is for the aspies

The ones that can’t find love

Or don’t know what to do with it

You’re amazing no matter what they say

No matter

This is for the aspies

I’m crying for you, I love hearing you

Because my own home is yours

Connected and tired of the correction

Your home is mine

This is for the aspies

Broken but not without fight

Or riding free, with everything going right

This is gospel for us all

Don’t let the outside take our life

Whisper To Me

 

whispering-in-ear

songs whisper to me

deep the valley of Mars

aliens strum away in crescent moons

Venus, fall into my arms so soon

traveling on a pathway of darkness

the words give me the light

wanderers we always have been

never alone but never truly at home

nuclear ties that love and lust

more and less we represent the best and worst

that is humanity

Adele calms me

hurting, crying, saying, regretting

she’s like me, far more talented

but just as broken by those who claimed to love

broken, huh

this world forgets how to remember

we suffer the calamity

if the earth is about peace

why is extinction the remedy

deep sigh

I wave goodbye

no, not you, HER

you know who you are

it’s like that sucker punch move in movies

when somebody starts running

and you think they’re coming for you

but then another person with outstretched arms

embraces them instead

it’s funny until it happens

to you

it’s funny until you realize

they always knew

people write their hearts

on your sleeves

but who’s willing to get close enough

to betray

and discover the secret to keeping the lie going

is the truth we never mention to tell

Child Born Of Tremor and Turmoil

 

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writing is my love

my life

the beginning and end

of an always speaking wife

we noticed one another

while drifting away from life

on the verge of exiting

she stole the knife

we courted on balconies

piers

and windows crept through

by cellphone light

we wed four years ago

happy as could be

believing us

is all we would ever need

marriage is not

without difficulty

for to unify two individuals

someone must be subverted

to keep the peace of another

so I remained silent

pregnant by another

far more ravenous insatiable lover

and when the night falls

I run to her

begging to be spared

and spare the world

of a child born of tremor

and turmoil

agony agony I cry

why do you leave me alone

to perish

Taking My Own Life

nano

I just might give up

on life

maybe get reincarnated

and allowed to make it right

everywhere I go

people seem to be laughing

and everywhere I go

the masquerade is crashing

I’m not ten anymore, I can’t hide behind my family

I’m nearly an adult, even though I don’t want to be

I don’t feel like I’m ready

I . Don’t. Feel. Ready.

I can’t make friends, my family doesn’t even like me

“he’s not much fun to be around” I heard my mom say

and brother and sister agreed

“he hears more than you think he does”

that’s also true

and it’s why I hate you

uprooted me out of my home

never gave me a chance to adjust

and threw me a few miles north

become a man I must

or risk losing all I ever had

which was just pens, notebooks,

a nearly full writing pad

just over 225 blog posts, three award winning articles

and one published in the October 2015 Edition

of Teen Ink

but they never let me think

the way I was created to

they just expect me to function

the way they do

no wonder I fail, you stupid asshole

excuse the profanity

but I just can’t take it anymore

no space to be an Aspergian

no space to be me

but underground has plenty of room

that I’m sure you can see

the tension is rising, the anger turning me raw

my mouth bleeds

from the pressure of it all

I read works of other aspies

and see how they overcome

(thanks Laina, Beth, Marisa, Keely)

(I’m sure I’m forgetting some)

but they can’t solve my pain

they can’t give me a family

that understands my name

talk behind my back, just like my Dad did

but told me he was this terrible person

and here you are, pretending to be holier than thou

I guess that makes you worse, then

all I’ve ever wanted

all I’ve truly wanted

was a family who understands me

someone who hears me

and someone who loves me

for who I am

not what they want me to be

not what their eyes can see

I am autistic, but human first

please, let me live happily

God forbid I tell them

how I feel

they’ll just shrug it off

the weirdo at it again with another squeal

so I bury it deep inside

deep inside my bones

it’s rotting my mind

stealing my time

and taking me away from home

or maybe I want it to

take me away from them

they don’t know me, they never will

I can’t be free, so to this heart

can I kill?

 

 

The Reality Regarding Negative Expectations And Emotively-Founded Bias Against Aspergians

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Don’t knock

I’ve already let you in

Being brutally honest

is my cardinal sin

Put on all the makeup in the world

I’ll still call you ugly

People laugh in hordes

and I still can’t find them funny

Complementing for a complement

is vain decadence

and dressing for someone you’ll probably dump

shows a lack of intelligence

Roses are red,

Violets are blue

Sugar leads to cancer

And, oh yeah, I hate you

Stupid expectations

and hilarious ignorance

“Aspergers is just an excuse for kids to be rude”

Why don’t you use some damn common sense?

When you’re ignorant, you excuse

and when you’re wrong

you change your views

Just admit that you don’t get it

And your PhD?

Worth a pile of shit

To those who live it

to those who own it

to those who hide it

and those not afraid to show it

Test after test, lecture after lecture

grant after grant, and law after law

Don’t you realize

that one isn’t like all?

Step away from your degree

and let me snatch away your glory

put you in a class of bullies

and see if you’re still holy

Here’s your homework: don’t go on the march

and instead play a more personable part

Sit down and talk to us

open up these hearts

UPSET ALERT: We’re not any different

than you

but how you treat us

is up to you

 

(Note: I’ve been unable to leave comments on way too many blogs recently. So, if you’ve barred me from commenting on your blog, or are having some technical issues, kindly letting me know would be greatly appreciated. My email is chiefssince09@gmail.com)

 

I’m An Alien On The Wrong Planet

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Today was awful. My weekly WAMTAC meeting (read here for more https://marylandpoetblog.wordpress.com/2016/09/09/remembered-for-centuries/) went poorly, and not because of anything anyone did, to me or else. I simply had a nervous breakdown today. I couldn’t talk, I didn’t want to talk, and I added very little to the group. I felt awful not contributing, but I couldn’t make the words come out. I feel like jumping off a bridge and ending it all, and I’m only feeling worse…

 

Come out of yourself

Sure

Surrounded by all these outgoing teens

and then there’s me

When you’re the only one

not talking

You realize

you’re a weakling

nothing

nothing worth anyone’s attention. anyway

So many thoughts

so much to say

but this will always be

the only way

I’m ever understood

and I’m older now

I should be more outgoing

I should

I’ll never get a job

or a wife

otherwise

but often, being personable

is the last thing on my mind

I’m tired

of feeling left out

but when I speak

I feel stupid

shut your fucking mouth

Crazy

how art can bring so

much out of me

so much good

so many words

and even more

the real me

the fucked up me

is left unheard

I want to speak out

but I don’t know how

so I’ll let the others speak

let me seem weak

clueless

this disorder

makes me useless

no girl

is dating a fucking poet

no artist

makes money while they’re alive

I’m as talented as Poe

dying slowly in my Baltimore home

Legendary like Shakespeare

wait, I don’t write erotica

this emptiness

is real

when the only one listening

is you

Fuck, they said this would get easier

life probably broker

and I’m still a loner

 

 

#OctPoWriMo 2016 Day Eight Prompt: Porous

33

 

Porous

was my beating

heart that could never see truth

the truth was that you didn’t love

the truth was that you hated me

 

Pensee found in the Caulkins Handbook stresses exact syllable count and strong end words. This invented verse form was first introduced by American poet and educator, Alice Spokes. It can be found on line at Instant Poetry Forms for Kids

The Pensee is:

  • a pentastich, a poem in 5 lines.
  • syllabic, 2-4-7-8-8 syllables per line.
  • unrhymed.
  • titled