Poetry competition CLOSED 22nd January 2020 1:59pm
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Benzy_420 (BTheW)
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Autismtastic

poet Anonymous

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MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States 90awards
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5711

Awe---tistic


Eardrums ring
(with)
shattering depths
of atomic rearrangement—
molecules colliding
dividing—

I see chemical bonds break
(all the time)
and become something else—
inertia
in my mind.

(Ssshhhhh……)


I can’t stop watching (chemical) reactions
visualize
behind my eyes—
fascinating……
if you touch me
they interrupt
and I must start again
observing
counting—

(the seventh wave is always the strongest
in the ocean….)

I am a conduit for something—
maybe God.

Someone must do it—
be the watcher,
the ionic impulse
where the war is in the spirit-realm
and
words are already formed
ready to flow
through the flesh.

poet Anonymous

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AspergerPoet56
Tyrant of Words
Scotland 33awards
Joined 4th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 1898

We Are Autism

We are human
Of sorts  
In mutated form  
 
A minority  
That is growing  
Finding a voice  
 
We exist  
Despite attempts  
To change our identity  
 
The purpose of inclusion  
Is to educate  
Not eradicate  
 
So with open minds  
Open hands  
We bare our souls everyday  
 
It’s a hard thing to do  
Explaining how you function  
To everyone you meet  
 
Constantly jumping through  
Hoops designed  
To normalise us  
 
Who are we?  
 We are part of new sub culture  
We are  Autism  
 
We are self aware  
Yet deemed lacking  
Cause we operate differently  
 
Our focus  
Develops passions  
That colour the world  
 
Don’t dull our brush  
Or the vibrancy  
Will be lost among the grey  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written by AspergerPoet56
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poet Anonymous

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poet Anonymous

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AspergerPoet56
Tyrant of Words
Scotland 33awards
Joined 4th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 1898

We Are The Stars

In the name of Autism  
We were seen  
As an incomplete jigsaw  
 
Missing pieces  
To a puzzle  
They sought to solve  
 
Coming into the light  
Like butterflies  
Our beauty is our difference  
 
Each colour  
Paints our picture  
On the canvas of life  
 
We talk about it  
In whispers  
Hide ourselves  
 
Our footprints  
Are there in the sand  
For all too see  
 
Let us fly  
We will show you  
A world you haven’t seen  
 
Forget the rhetoric about us  
The graffiti bullet points  
We are so much more  
 
For if you look at the dark  
Of the universe as normal
We are the stars
Written by AspergerPoet56
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poet Anonymous

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butters
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom 3awards
Joined 17th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 868

Stoney223
WOLF BAY33
Tyrant of Words
United States 18awards
Joined 3rd Apr 2019
Forum Posts: 86

FADE TO BLACK

Who knows what truly lingers beneath the spirit of the soul when darkness falls down upon the skies and your world, becomes to hard to bear as the lingering images fade into the mere abyss of your mind making you afraid to even go outside.    
   Who really knows what you go through in the solitude of your home when your alone, and the haunting images invades your dreams at night only to awaken you screaming in pain, as the sweat runs down your skin of your flesh from another bad dream of night creatures of demons walking in search of your skin and blood and flesh.                        
   Who really knows the real hurt that you struggle with on a daily basic just to make it through the day upon a wing and a prayer, for there are days that you just wanna disappear behind a closed lock door never to leave the mere comforts of your home. Who really knows what you suffer each time when darkness covers your world and your mind becomes confuse, and start manifesting thoughts that only you seem to see as they seem so real in shape and form tormenting you systematically and pyschologically.      
    For who really knows what you go through when your alone and the beast of nightmares, appears from out of the darkness like fragments mere subliminal signs conceal throught there desperation with an hunger to feed upon your fears that dwells beneath the core of your spiritual soul.
Written by Stoney223 (WOLF BAY33)
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Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States 154awards
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5134

Risen with the Midnight Sun

Greta Thunberg, climate activist
(Time’s Person of the Year 2019)


Just as I began to think
I couldn’t detest Trump more
fiercely than I already did,

He tweeted from his playpen
in a condescending fit
from a little girl’s words
that should have come from
the older generations
who have let this
global warming insanity
go on, gaining momentum
ten times ten times ten
in its raging scourge—

And summarily advised
that she work on her
anger management, and
watch a movie with friends.

This has been how the Duck
tries to placate “the people”
all along, since the beginning.

It makes me wonder
far too often - how would he
be as an autistic
person & president
with Aspergers?
It gives one reason to pause.

When Greta Thunberg was
younger, she learned how
many people were not
acting ‘appropriately’
when it came to Earth issues.

To look & think thru’ the lens
of an Asperger’s youth
is to perceive as a
diamond’s point of light,
with nothing to the
left or to the right.

The injustice she felt
was so intense & complete,
she shut down
and would not speak or eat.

It stunted her growth,
but not her stunning mind.
And, at 15,
came onto the world’s stage
with a challenge to us all
— a growling proclamation.

Listen to the
diminutive one, Mr Trump,
and grow up while you can.
There’s nothing small
about her.

Listen to her,
people of the world—
Autism roars,
and will be heard.

slipalong
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom 42awards
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 852

Odd normality

We see a quietness, sometimes tempest
An in our own way keep our fingers crossed
Some say a gain some say a loss

A barrier so hard to define
To search your heart for the cause unknown
And smile down that long acceptance road

That some will lead a path not clear to us
 Patience just to face the facts
The vulnerable, a shell upon the back

A mask we want to rip away
Those flaws that crucify our day
No hard love repair that malaise

We brought them here in human form
The wheelchair of that deform
A puzzle, the pieces fitted wrong

A strength but do you have the arms
The fortitude and placid calm
A guilty society a tenuous balance

The complex we try to accept not reject
A jumbled kaleidoscope perspective
An unexplained a normal strange

Where the medicine, where the bandage
To bare humour through each new challenge
That baggage I would gladly carry

That mask some see as disability
A language its message never clear
Autism the coin you flip to breed
Written by slipalong
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case28
Alexander Case
Dangerous Mind
42awards
Joined 16th June 2013
Forum Posts: 2084

Related submission no longer exists.

LunaGreyhawk
Dangerous Mind
United States 19awards
Joined 8th July 2019
Forum Posts: 923

Insomnia Concerto Sensoriale

3:27am  
I’m awake
like the sun  
with only  
the moonlight  
keeping me company;  
words flow  
grow  
they know  
I need sleep -  
eyes full of sand  
but a mind full  
of patterns  
colors  
shapes, unidentifiable  
at least until  
I look them up  
in the light  
of later today  
 
converging melodies  
written upon  
the shifting amalgam  
~of thoughts~  
too many to detail,  
colliding in their hurry  
to pique my interest,  
showing off to grab  
my full attention,  
all equally self-important  
which is to say,  
all equally unimportant;  
~married to sound~  
the slightly warbled,  
off-center sweep  
of the ceiling fan,  
the manufactured tin rain  
trying hard  
to make me believe  
from my pretend-noise box,  
the faint electronic hum  
of a life fully plugged in;  
~infused with smell~  
the stale ghost  
of the cigarette  
I smoked,  
sitting cross-legged  
on the floor  
beside my open patio door,  
the frosty air  
tempering my fevered  
rumination,  
the sweet undertone  
of nag champa sticks  
to which I’m currently curating  
a curious addiction,  
the acrid lingering  
of forgotten chicken  
from an unremarkable  
dinner  
 
a sliding symphony,  
they all perform at once;  
music composed  
from the numbers  
on the antique wall clock,  
round beats  
with squared notes  
low, voluptuous bass,  
lips pressed to skin  
in a smooth soprano swing;  
light dances on the letters  
that spell the numbers  
as they pass through  
my mind  
like strategically scattered  
street lamps,  
approaching and fading  
in that frenzied way  
they seem  
when driving home  
from places  
you shouldn’t have been  
and stayed in  
way too late  
 
my orchestra  
is delightfully defiant,  
refusing to listen  
to the tap! tap! tap!  
of my conductor’s baton;  
instead crowding their heads  
together,  
they conspire to create  
a collaboration  
of my brain’s misfiring  
and the resulting harmony  
haunts me  
it’s beauty mathematical  
logical and yet ethereal,  
it’s barely contained chaos,  
and it’s formulations -  
equations I don’t comprehend  
yet feel as familiar as family,  
float languidly  
above my head,  
breaking my heart once again  
for what feels like  
the millionth time  
that I can’t share this  
with you,  
this Concerto Sensoriale  
majestic in its presentation,  
it’s beauty compels tears  
to jump to their deaths  
in the hollows  
of my cheeks,  
but I’m the only one  
who will ever  
know of my masterpiece,  
played in the soft light  
of a million stars  
in a cold, clear sky -  
keeping me  
awake  
Written by LunaGreyhawk
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poet Anonymous

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