deepundergroundpoetry.com
Anxiety
There is nothing clever about feeling inadequate.
Second guessing every word you say,
all of the decisions you make,
playing the minutest detail of your day
in the dark as you lay there kidding yourself you'll sleep.
There's no poetry in describing this feeling.
Your voice on repeat in your head
with no meaning,
insignificant reverberations of
clips of conversations
that you might have had or not,
it doesn't matter if the point was lost and forgot.
To answer the door or let the phone ring out, your mind never stops and still the most basic of tasks seem terrifying.
No denying how ridiculous it is,
and yet you cower behind curtains consumed with fear.
As if they can hear you.
Oh what will you then do?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Aggressive and bravado, it's all a front,
what happened in the past that makes you act like such a cunt?
A mewling child desperate for attention,
a 33 year old baby that needs affection,
that weakness, you pour your soul out
as if your memories will make them
give you their time,
but no one cares for your tales of your horrendous life,
it's just another sad story of forgettable strife.
And yet you try.
Try to explain the crippling fear,
not tangible pain, the doubts that consume
large parts of your brain,
and constructing scenarios that won't ever exist.
My wish?
Silence with it's deafening numbness,
the bliss of not seeing or hearing a thing,
as if I were dead but also living,
just detached from the chaos thats inside of me. Or for me to see,
another way out that doesn't involve me
talking it out, more subdued that me
needing to scream or then shout,
for others around me to feel it aswell.
This hell.
That i live in.
Second guessing every word you say,
all of the decisions you make,
playing the minutest detail of your day
in the dark as you lay there kidding yourself you'll sleep.
There's no poetry in describing this feeling.
Your voice on repeat in your head
with no meaning,
insignificant reverberations of
clips of conversations
that you might have had or not,
it doesn't matter if the point was lost and forgot.
To answer the door or let the phone ring out, your mind never stops and still the most basic of tasks seem terrifying.
No denying how ridiculous it is,
and yet you cower behind curtains consumed with fear.
As if they can hear you.
Oh what will you then do?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Aggressive and bravado, it's all a front,
what happened in the past that makes you act like such a cunt?
A mewling child desperate for attention,
a 33 year old baby that needs affection,
that weakness, you pour your soul out
as if your memories will make them
give you their time,
but no one cares for your tales of your horrendous life,
it's just another sad story of forgettable strife.
And yet you try.
Try to explain the crippling fear,
not tangible pain, the doubts that consume
large parts of your brain,
and constructing scenarios that won't ever exist.
My wish?
Silence with it's deafening numbness,
the bliss of not seeing or hearing a thing,
as if I were dead but also living,
just detached from the chaos thats inside of me. Or for me to see,
another way out that doesn't involve me
talking it out, more subdued that me
needing to scream or then shout,
for others around me to feel it aswell.
This hell.
That i live in.
Published 5th Nov 2019
| Edited 7th Nov 2019
Author's Note
I have lived with anxiety for a while, was trying to put the feeling into words
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 6
reading list entries 2
comments 11
reads 910
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
6th Nov 2019 6:32pm
This is an amazing contribution Oohloulala! I am so happy to see you back posting. The only thing I would suggest is your form. I would recommend making it more poetic than prosaic. Some simple line-breaks would take care of that.
But all that aside, this was very powerful and apt of anxiety. Bless you.
But all that aside, this was very powerful and apt of anxiety. Bless you.
7th Nov 2019 9:41pm
Thankyou, i have been writing for spoken word, and i think i need to definitely bear your comment in mind in regard to the structure. Appreciate your feedback!
7th Nov 2019 9:55pm
I suggest such because there are deaf poets out there who would only be able to read.
7th Nov 2019 10:14pm
See, something i hadn't even considered, thankyou! I used to write my poems much more structured, I am going to give it an edit, would value your feedback.
7th Nov 2019 10:37pm
This is amazing. I love the video and the dimensions it adds to the write. There is a syllabic harmony to your write that is entirely natural. The courage of your candor is engaging and endearing. Namaste.
I deal with anxiety and bipolar disorder. Things others might find routine can be an ordeal for me. It's alright, you get to your 40's, you know who you are and reconcile yourself, I did, anyhow, and found a form of peace and strength in it, but sometimes it still rankles how little understanding one can expect to receive from others. Going through periods of reduced lucidity as episodes arise, having to apologize to others who will not care to understand or forgive, I became more and more withdrawn and isolated. Working with the podcast and efforts I've made in my daily life have helped me emerge from that, but the difficulties remain. Check out my write Of the Eaters, it's where I vent about society and living with disorders.
I deal with anxiety and bipolar disorder. Things others might find routine can be an ordeal for me. It's alright, you get to your 40's, you know who you are and reconcile yourself, I did, anyhow, and found a form of peace and strength in it, but sometimes it still rankles how little understanding one can expect to receive from others. Going through periods of reduced lucidity as episodes arise, having to apologize to others who will not care to understand or forgive, I became more and more withdrawn and isolated. Working with the podcast and efforts I've made in my daily life have helped me emerge from that, but the difficulties remain. Check out my write Of the Eaters, it's where I vent about society and living with disorders.
7th Nov 2019 10:41pm
What I did was re-listen to this three times, and edit accordingly. When you type in poetic form, the breaks and spaces are visible to follow. Whereas prose reads as a paragraph; therefore, it's difficult to get right cadence going. My suggestion to you is to slow down. Just slow down enough as though you are reading this to someone. There are places where the emphasis is terrific - then there are places where you go a bit too fast.
Try re-recording in the below format - see what happens.
Anxiety
There is nothing clever about feeling inadequate.
Second guessing every word you say,
all of the decisions you make,
playing the minutest detail of your day in the dark,
as you lay there kidding yourself you'll sleep.
There's no poetry in describing this feeling.
Your voice on repeat in your head
with no meaning,
insignificant reverberations
of clips of conversations
that you might have had or not,
it doesn't matter if the point was lost and forgot.
To answer the door or let the phone ring out,
your mind never stops and still,
the most basic of tasks seem terrifying.
No denying how ridiculous it is,
and yet you cower behind curtains consumed with fear-
As if they can hear you.
Oh what will you then do?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Aggressive and bravado, it's all a front,
what happened in the past that makes you act like such a cunt;
a mewling child desperate for attention,
a 33 year old baby that needs affection,
that weakness, you pour your soul out
as if your memories will make them
give you their time,
but no one cares for your tales of your horrendous life,
it's just another sad story of forgettable strife.
And yet you try.
Try to explain the crippling fear,
not tangible pain, the doubts that consume
large parts of your brain,
and constructing scenarios
that won't ever exist.
My wish?
Silence with it's deafening numbness,
the bliss of not seeing or hearing a thing,
as if I were dead but also living,
just detached from the chaos that's inside of me.
Or for me to see another way out
that doesn't involve me talking it out,
more subdued that me
needing to scream or then shout,
for others around me to feel it as well.
This hell, that I live in.
Try re-recording in the below format - see what happens.
Anxiety
There is nothing clever about feeling inadequate.
Second guessing every word you say,
all of the decisions you make,
playing the minutest detail of your day in the dark,
as you lay there kidding yourself you'll sleep.
There's no poetry in describing this feeling.
Your voice on repeat in your head
with no meaning,
insignificant reverberations
of clips of conversations
that you might have had or not,
it doesn't matter if the point was lost and forgot.
To answer the door or let the phone ring out,
your mind never stops and still,
the most basic of tasks seem terrifying.
No denying how ridiculous it is,
and yet you cower behind curtains consumed with fear-
As if they can hear you.
Oh what will you then do?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Aggressive and bravado, it's all a front,
what happened in the past that makes you act like such a cunt;
a mewling child desperate for attention,
a 33 year old baby that needs affection,
that weakness, you pour your soul out
as if your memories will make them
give you their time,
but no one cares for your tales of your horrendous life,
it's just another sad story of forgettable strife.
And yet you try.
Try to explain the crippling fear,
not tangible pain, the doubts that consume
large parts of your brain,
and constructing scenarios
that won't ever exist.
My wish?
Silence with it's deafening numbness,
the bliss of not seeing or hearing a thing,
as if I were dead but also living,
just detached from the chaos that's inside of me.
Or for me to see another way out
that doesn't involve me talking it out,
more subdued that me
needing to scream or then shout,
for others around me to feel it as well.
This hell, that I live in.
7th Nov 2019 11:09pm
Ah brilliant, I'll give it a go now! I always seem to read a bit fast, it's like I am rushing through it to get the job done, lol. A lack of confidence i think.
7th Nov 2019 11:16pm
Or perhaps nervousness as well. Formatting truly helps to accentuate your breaks and spaces to allow the audience a second to absorb.
5th Dec 2019 9:24pm
This has been nominated for Spoken Word of the Month!
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11143/#462293
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11143/#462293
There is so much wealth in your poem, Loulou. I agree with Ahavati's comments and suggestions. With spoken word it's really important that speed and diction make it easy for the listener to appreciate what you are gifting them with. You have the ideas, you have a gift, you speak from heartfelt experience that is relevant to many - with a little practice and honing of presentation you will find a very appreciative audience. Going up a learning curve is perfectly normal for any art/skill. You have everything going for you with your poetry. Best regards, Josh.
25th Dec 2019 4:56am
