Kim's Krazy Poetry...

Hello all! I feel like I use up too many threads posting single poems when my mind creates thousands of them (just not all get recorded!) so I think I am going to start a thread with all of my poetry on it. I hope you enjoy the journey you are about to take, a journey into the depths of a bipolar mind, where painful memories are neutered and spayed, where the glimmer of light from I know not what shines through, where love conquers all and peace prevails, except during those dark days...

The trash of the mind...

The dark shadows lie within,
hidden like trash inside a dumpster,
away from the every day sight.

This trash appears only when the
lid is opened, and the stench of
rotten eggs and stale donuts
comes rushing at you in the face.

The sight of someone's half digested
spaghetti and meat sauce are
enough for the strongest stomachs
to heave in disgust.

When the dumpster becomes
overfilled with pizza boxes,
bloody tampons, and other
random refuse, eyes are turned
away from the messy sight,
only to pretend that it doesn't exist.

These are the dangers that lurk inside
the mind of the everyday person,
their shattered dreams and
scarred past shoved way down deep
so they won't have to deal with
the garbage of the soul.

The problem arises when the
cover to these painful memories
is lifted, maybe not on purpose
but by accident, triggered by a
friend or enemy or drugs.

The stench of the pain becomes
overwhelming; it takes over the body
and floods the mind with its
hidden messages and deeper meaning
that can only be found by those who
look and listen and feel without judgement.

Those who judge their pain only
feel it deeper and feed the monster
by giving it more energy until
they slam the lid down HARD
and go on like before, living
with a pile of trash in a dumpster,
never to be dealt with...

Peace and love

 

The cool, marine mist with its scent of
salt and fish cover my face,
soothing my tense and tangled nerves.
I see a sailboat in the distance,
with its shades of whites and oranges
against an aquamarine background.
Ah, paradise.

Flash forward ten years and
the scenery is much different.
The skies are a hazy shade of
grey, while the waters are a film of
black iridescent oil,
covering the ocean likes
a second skin.

Unless we do something,
this is what our future may
look like...

Peace and love

 

The ball ends when the clock strikes midnight.
Until then, let's live life fully, allowing
the liquid to flow freely and cups not to run dry.
Waiting for the grand entrance
of his and her and our highness,
full of life and laughter and love,
just being one with all
and one with none
simultaneously.

Peace and love

 

Let the energy flow

Feel the oneness with all,
the divine within
the love of a god unknown
to those who claim to know it

The utter simplicity of the flow
the current of the mind
the essences of what
cannot be named
by those who try
to describe it

Feel the holy Now,
the great power within
the perfection of
imperfections.

Peace and love

 

The seed

From the mind springs thoughts
which influence actions and speech
until the world we live in
is the world we create.

It can be a beautiful paradise
if we accept what Is and
change what Can be
into what should be
without struggle,
without effort.

The world can also be a hell
given the worst the human heart
can produce, suffering
from resisting what Is
and settling for ideals
of what Should be
rather than acting.

The world can be either;
what do you make of it?

Peace and love

 

Good idea. I think I may join you and make my own personal thread.

I particularly like the trash of the mind idea. Mine, unfortunately, is way too full and it seems like the garbage collectors are on strike or something. Anyway, nice stuff. I will be checking in on your thread for more of your writing.

Peace,
A.

 

Chaos

Mixed emotions scattered amongst the rubbish
littered across my room
no expectations
empty bottles surrounded by
granola wrappers and papers
mingled with notebooks on the floor.
Chaos of the soul.

Peace and love

 

LOL, sounds like you need a maid!

 

Vodka

The tears stream down in torrents,
flooding an empty bathroom
devoid of any signs of life
besides the half empty
bottle of Grey Goose
resting upon the ceramic tiles.
Time does not heal all wounds.

Peace and love

 

B-town

White Salem limestone adorns otherwise
nude buildings which stand in the center
of a bustling metropolis known as Bloomington.
Shops of all types and colors emerge from the shadows,
while quaint restaurants peak out from the sidewalk,
the aroma of garlic and fried rice wafting
from within, tempting the senses.
Orange block print signs beg for help,
hanging next to black cursive posters
advertising deals to sweet to pass up.

A pair of tan leather slides: $14
A couple interesting books: $39
An overpriced vinyl hand bag: $57
Spending time with dear friends: priceless

Peace and love

 

You know, you got some nerve calling me mental ill when you're the one bipolar, not me. Dont take it out on others. Oh but you cant help ot can you?

By the way, your poerty sucks. But that's just my diagnoses/opinion. I guess that's because you're bipolar. lol! That medication they got you on got you too doped up.

 

I don't make claims that I am sent by a higher messenger. If I did, I would hope someone would help me. I am in touch with reality, unlike some of your posts.

BTW, sticks and stones, love.

Peace and love

 

Broken butterfly wings
cover your naked body,
lying in the pale shade,
hidden from piercing eyes
and judging hearts
while you rest in total
tranquility,
one with the world.

Peace and love

 

Your skies are shades of oranges, reds, and pinks
Fields of poppies and violets bloom in your presence
Bubbling brooks follow your trail of tears
Your shadows are filled with neutered memories
and dreams left unfulfilled.
Your glorious beauty only
pales to what could have been

Peace and love

 

I like this a lot. I wish I felt like it more often. BTW, I'm really curious. Who is the shrink on the top of this page with all of the psychiatric evaluations? LOL

 

Shanti's revenge

The page stares back blankly
full of misguided syllables
mangled strokes of a pen
lines become blurry
as a single drop
falls from the baby blue
eye of a child, lost,
confused from the
whirlwind of emotions
that enveloped her
dam of self confidence,
leaving her vulnerable
to the unforgiving waves
of self doubt, triggered by
the merciless taunts
of her imaginary friends
Pain is her only true companion,
a lover who will never
abandon her,
who will stay with her til
the end of this joke
we call existence
and at what cost?
What is the cost to
live in this superficial world?
A sacrificed identity
for a mask of shallow
acceptance by an cruel
and uncaring society.

Peace and love

 

Very beautifully written. 'A child, lost.' Aren't we all?

This is also a great image. Terribly sad. I like this whole poem a lot. One thing I didn't get...the title? Shanti is and Indian word isn't it? Anyway, it doesn't take away from my enjoyment of the piece.

Peace,
A.

 

Shanti is the name that I am very fond of. I want to name my daughter (if I have one) Tara Nikole Shanti Bradley. That name of the poem just kind of flowed from the top of my head.

Peace and love

 

I like your Vodka one. These are all great. Poems of pain are always the best. Great work

 

Thank you for the positive feedback. I appreciate it.

Peace and love