"Kotter's Groan" (P.o.t.D. 6/10/15, no rev)

My brain is pudding,
My muscles twitch and ache so,
Gray hairs - all speak age.

"Fueled by Frustrations, Suicide Sinks In"

I imagine myself twisting up my bed shifts into a make-shift rope, tying them to the guardrail on the Jones Road bridge, and hanging myself over the creek.

Other days, I feel this urge to jump in fount of the cars speeding down Manchaca Road.

Or... do I poison myself by taking all of the prescriptions simultaneously. What is it like to die on a month's worth of Lithium?

There's even a thought to go to the gun shop, ten minutes away, and buy a gun.

So far, that's the extent of the ideations.

They're not constant, but they're recurring. I suspect they're fueled by frustration and failures. The first time that I attempted suicide, it was not a cry for attention; I wanted to find oblivion, to be done with this circus, to make room for those who seem to be succeeding...

I hate the places my brain can take me.

I hate the expectations that our society imposes on me.

On second sight, I would seriously consider escaping by running away to a monastery (with or without notice, depending on my mood) - all the above suicides seem to have a bit of pain and suffering involved in them.

So, yes, I'm a bit frustrated right now. When I look at the outsides, though, I'm actually not bad off. Yet, like some crazed addict, I want more... more money, more toys, more games, more food, more sex, more attention.

Yet, hearing myself talk, these last couple of days, I'm not too sure that I'm very pleasant to be around. Will you still love me, when I stink?

Sooo... that's me, reaching out in a third/fourth Facebook thread. I'll probably call somebody in the next couple of hours, because I strongly suspect that no one will call me.
(maybe this is all the result of too much caffeine? )

"Haiku on Frustration" (P.o.t.D. 3/1/15, no rev)

My mind disconnects
From hunger and lack of sleep,
Making poems so hard.

"Physical Therapy" (P.o.t.D. 2/27/15, no rev)

It is amazing:
A few stretches... a massage...
And I sit sans pain.

"Bipolar blues" (P.o.t.D. 2/15/17)

My mind took a turn
At tearing apart my life...
Why won't I just sleep?

"Silver Pins?" (pub 2/7/16, rev 2/7/17)

Our minds became hollow, empty vessels,
Drained of all sparks, with brains swept up in news
Faked by the paparazzi media...

Try as I may, my senses sucked mine dry
Through flimsy skin, plugged up ears, clamped shut eyes.
Our hearts evacuated long before -
Leaving behind travesties of lives sore.

My hope - it still exists - is that one day,
Our vacant existence will replenish
With love's fires, that we'll find silver pins
Hidden under all the straw mens' toothpicks.

Let us slay charming vampires and werewolves -
Diseases poisoning society,
Plucking my mind from day's vitality...

"what rhymes with pain?" (P.o.t.D. 2/7/15 rev 2/7/17)

pain
insane,
makes me wane -
I can't explain
the physical drain...

"Getting Older" (P.o.t.D. 2/3/15 rev 2/2/17)

Legs twisted up in strange pretzel shapes
To reduce their nerve and muscle aches.
As I sleep, drool drains out
Wet pillows are all 'bout...
Just a couple bad signs of old age.

"Recollecting the Wreck" (P.o.t.D. 1/26/15 rev 1/28/17)

Do I remember the car wreck?

"Sadly, no..."
"Gladly, no!"

Shawn and I had troubles with the seatbelts,
In that old Pinto
That was his teenage car.

That morning, it was foggy out.
We were running late for school.
I was still half-asleep,
Nodding off in the passenger seat.

As he plowed thru the pea soup,
Passing on a curve,
A Cadillac came at us, head-on!
Shawn tried well to swerve
Alas, there was still a crash...

Shawn's right leg broke three times,
And would never grow longer.
He was in a cast for six months,
And he needs shoe mods, today.

My forehead hit the windshield,
So my six month ordeal was
Digging glass shards out, as they resurfaced.

Still, I don't remember the crash -
I barely remember the E.R., hours later...

The wreck has faded into the fog...

"..the diodes in my left side.." (P.o.t.D. 1/17/15 rev 1/17/17 )

"This last year, I began to have sharp pains,
Shooting all through my right leg," He complains...

They shot some x-rays, and found a bone spur
Encased in his ankle - the mangy cur!

Walking on that spike, his muscles would rip -
Was this like Achilles, in his famed trip?

Cutting it out was not doctor-advised;
Instead, various stretches were prescribed.

Even so told, there's no motive to pursue...
Until the pain grew worse and yoga's due.

"Silver Pins?" (pub 2/7/16)

My mind's but an empty vessel,
Drained of all life
By the paparazzi media circus.

As it was sucked dry
Through my clamped shut eyes and ears,
My heart was evacuated long before -
Allowing this travesty of modern life.

My hope,
If it still exists,
Is that one day,
This hollow existence
Will be replenished
By love's fire
Finding silver pins
Hidden under all the toothpicks.

Let us slay vampires and werewolves
Who are the diseases
Poisoning society's vitality...

"isolated in AA" (P.o.t.D. 2/5/16)

just string the words together,
and wonder if any thoughts appear...

isolated at an AA meeting,
despite a couple of warm greetings -
always wanting to be in the spotlight,
the center of attention:
the guy who makes everyone laugh,
or who says something so profound.

hooey on that...
just trying to pump the chest out,
without speaking from the heart...
without vulnerability and weakness,
although it could be weakness
to cloak one's self in pretty words,
devoid of real meaning, real experience.

great chasm, great gulf, great void
between them and me -
Lack of sincerity.

i feel a little charred,
because I asked for help,
and i got no response.
"For God's sake,
It was only a chili cookoff!"

...or, floundering, flopping in the deep,
wishing for some relief,
but the steps sit unworked,
the phone sits silent,
and the never-ending quest for more
packs my schedule full of games and work -
no room left to breathe,
to sort out the medicine madness,
the deceptively cheap insurance
that does not provide any takers -
damn those doctors and their high fees!

i looked at the white board,
and i saw that i hadn't been to a meeting,
all this week, despite rules that I attend three.
so i went to the late-night tonight,
and i plan on an early one tomorrow,
capped by a speaker in the evening...
part of me wonders if i'll follow through.
I used to go religiously to 1313,
but, lately...?
it seems that fears of missing work
have been keeping me away,
or, so I claim.
it could also be...
that I don't feel a part of, any more -
ever since I quit smoking cigarettes,
or started sporting grey hair,
or just watching my mind fall apart...

why do i hide in this cave?
why do i settle
for so little,
when great things could be me?

the thoughts are out there, now...
mostly my low-lying anger at AA -
How I feel so separate, almost betrayed...
wondering if that's, for me, a valid place.

On a bright note,
I really do enjoy my gaming nights -
So much more interaction...

I'm not so fond of work nights,
slinging beer and cigarettes
to people who don't realize,
"The party's over, 'lest you never grow old..."
I suspect, one day,
I'll see some of these customers
In future AA meetings...
If I'm still going, that is....

So, I don't feel alone, or lonely,
as i do have happy places to go to;
but i do feel isolated and unaccepted -
like my boat has drifted to uncharted waters,
away from the fleet

maybe i'm just hungry,
as I fast tonight,
for the doctor's tests, tomorrow.
I've noticed how twisted off I become,
when i've not had food for a bit.

"Cooling the Fire"

As love's brief embers become cold, grey ash,
The heart labors long to stop anger's match.

"Kotter's Groan" (P.o.t.D. 6/10/15)

My brain is pudding,
My muscles twitch and ache so,
Gray hairs - all speak age.

"Haiku on Frustration" (P.o.t.D. 3/1/15)

My mind disconnects
From hunger and lack of sleep,
Making poems so hard.

"Physical Therapy" (P.o.t.D. 2/27/15)

It is amazing:
A few stretches... a massage...
And I sit sans pain.

"Cloak of Fears" (P.o.t.D. 2/13/15)

All wrapped up in a cloak of fears,
Trudging becomes a rough challenge.

Acute pain travels through the leg,
Making it move like a dead weight.

While trying to treat the numbness,
Money just slips through the fingers.

Living from paycheck to paycheck,
Not sure how to now recover
Lost hours, sacrificed, one night dark...

Does the cloak cover up the tears?
Does it conceal the limping gait?
Does it add to the cash dumbness,
Or prevent going on a lark?

Stark reminder of mortal bounds,
Fears grow acute, as they surround.

"Destructive Distractions" (P.o.t.D. 2/10/15)

The thought, dominant in my mind,
Blotting out all, besides its kind
Is of intense pain, centered in my right thigh -
It feels like stabbing needles...

I can not think, for too long, on poetic form
Before another jolt brings me back - to forewarn?

I can hear the clock ticks, ever marching on
I feel a neck itch, begging to be scratched...

It's all me, me, me, right now -
I'm so wrapped up in the aches and pains;
I'm only vaguely aware of talks in the Ukraine.

Yesterday, there was a brief glimmer, writing about the cat -
A forlorn desire, to write without wearing the Jody hat.

That's the challenge, really, you see
Not to write about me, me, me -

To create a world fantastic, or sci-fi, or other
With enough clarity to appeal to another...
Yet, hold the ring of truth,
Not just whimsies on the screen.

Writing about writing again - that's another fallback;
Like status updates that only say,
"I'm checking my Facebook feed, see!"

This poem started crippled,
With pain interfering at every turn,
And trying to follow forms of rhyme and meter,
And now, digressing on how to write...

Perhaps tomorrow,
The pain will be less,
The form - not so followed -
And the Scene laid before you all
Without the little devil constantly criticizing...

"What Rhymes with Pain?" (P.o.t.D. 2/7/15)

pain
insane,
makes me "Wane" -
I can't explain
the physical drain...

"Getting Older" (P.o.t.D. 2/3/15)

Twisted up in strange pretzel shapes
To minimize leg's muscle aches,
Sleeping so that mouth's drool drains out
On my side is how that comes 'bout...
Just a couple bad signs of age.