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Open Poetry #48
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Asylum
| Open Poetry #48 |
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Asylum |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California 
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Asylum A trinket— but a bauble; may It hold you ever true Unto a disposition right For anyone but you. The ridicule is lost, they say, When you look up above... But spend too long chasing the light, It's no longer about love. The angle's short and jaded Till you let somebody cross. 'Need the drama and so you Do it in the name of loss. And you feel yourself persuaded, Though you haven't heard a sound. Never take time to think it through, You just buy another round... As someone tells you, "Careful, see You just might get that worm!" You think you feel it 'tween your teeth, Starting to wriggle and squirm. So you bite down with quiet glee, Alas, your just reward... As everything you own you bequeath To that which put you in this ward. And some might seek asylum, But I tell you it's a fraud. The pokes and prods, they never stop, Nor those thinking themselves God! At night, your heart beats like a drum Trying to burst free of your chest; As, by day, you wait the shoe to drop That will finally grant you rest. You take their pills, you drink their lies— You swallow them down whole. Now that you see it's all your fault, You let that swallow your soul. 'Refuse to look into the eyes Of those who visit you, And bite your tongue, if by default, Rather than speak of things untrue. Those things like hope, or love, or peace; ...Or a remembered smile That might have touched your heart somewhen, When life still seemed worthwhile. ...Or the simple wish for release Of pain but Death could bring. ...Or words unfound by a dried pen You used to swear could sing. So you sit in the hall and stare Out the window to that nothing, To convince halfwits monitoring That you really see something... While the sounds of TV blend the air Behind you to a senseless drone; The notiotion in your head stirring, "You'll spend eternity alone!" But you reach into that pocket And run your fingers over this... This reason to let all life go— This destiny gone amiss. And, from your hell, feel the locket You don't have to see to apprize; As a glimmer briefly comes to show, Then disappears, unseen, from your eyes. Michael Anderson |
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| © Copyright 2013 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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swampguy Member
since 2013-08-04
Posts 83 |
A worthy posting, my friend. This one line in the whole poem just said it all to me . . . quote: The biting down on the wriggling and squirming worm is, to me, a perfect metaphor for crossing over into the land of make believe. ~*~ The heart does not go backward, only the mind. ~*~ |
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Paul Wilson
since 2002-07-07
Posts 4711United States |
Michael...You've painted a true picture of what it would be like living in an asylum. I had a younger brother that was in a place like that of which you write about. He was there for 14 years. He passed away 4 years ago, and I know he is in a better place than where he was. This brought up fond memories of how he was before he was put in that home and tears for the suffering he went through while in that awful place...Paul ~~To share my poems with you is to share my heart with you~~ |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Thanks, Jer. If it's real to your mind, then it's real. And thank your Paul. It's sad to witness what one of these places can bleed out of a person first hand. I wasn't sure anyone would be able to relate to this one, but the fact you could makes me happy I shared it. Michael |
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