Least Read Poems About Disability
#disability
yelluw_always
Poem Published
8th Jan 2019 9:55pm
8th Jan 2019 9:55pm
6. Annotated Peoples Make Connections: if they walked around in love/for love/by love with SFX labels to their chests
my ears; jurassic lying dogs
crack an eye
at the slam door&shuts
with gutta-percha
abandoned housevines.
serum-anaesthetic so numb-
far from toilet.
bagful-godless plastic fluidclear
balloon stringing me along,
hear for me, my gadgets, my souls floating.
ersatz-doktor, labellapel I can’t
read-with-the-focus-upon-what-doesn’t-
I gear like your timepiece.
flat back & a tucked sweat-buckets
head wrap, time-bandage bondage aesthetic,
glass darkly revels when I sideblink
after a venerable dreamless...
crack an eye
at the slam door&shuts
with gutta-percha
abandoned housevines.
serum-anaesthetic so numb-
far from toilet.
bagful-godless plastic fluidclear
balloon stringing me along,
hear for me, my gadgets, my souls floating.
ersatz-doktor, labellapel I can’t
read-with-the-focus-upon-what-doesn’t-
I gear like your timepiece.
flat back & a tucked sweat-buckets
head wrap, time-bandage bondage aesthetic,
glass darkly revels when I sideblink
after a venerable dreamless...
#technology
#politics
#sacrifice #disability
#sacrifice #disability
15 reads
5 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
28th Dec 2018 7:17pm
28th Dec 2018 7:17pm
Some Cure
I could, I could point
to all the sweet nothings
until you’re not the nerves
of that void that you can’t feel
beyond Fingertips Ct.
signs staked in the t-folds: “Dead End”
If I would, I could handle
your prophecy in test tubes
each bubbles newborn:
|Abstract||Pinch-able||Impossible|
and you’ll sit in all of the waiting rooms
twiddling for the pH balance of headlines
A tower shown has a trickle-down
scene of falling hands in versions
of the rain, snow, the...
to all the sweet nothings
until you’re not the nerves
of that void that you can’t feel
beyond Fingertips Ct.
signs staked in the t-folds: “Dead End”
If I would, I could handle
your prophecy in test tubes
each bubbles newborn:
|Abstract||Pinch-able||Impossible|
and you’ll sit in all of the waiting rooms
twiddling for the pH balance of headlines
A tower shown has a trickle-down
scene of falling hands in versions
of the rain, snow, the...
#violence
#politics
#war
#MentalHealth
#disability
16 reads
4 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
6th Feb 2019 4:00pm
6th Feb 2019 4:00pm
the Deaf in the Garage
Tell me what
is my sound.
Does it astound?
What is my voice,
is it made of a vise
of melting ice?
Tell me,
how do I sound?
Is it murmurs of
the paint cans just in case?
Does it whisper like
the tools hung
on the pegboard?
Does your ear
detect hisses
of muddy cat paws
on the car?
Do you remember
the hush-hush
of the dress you wore
to your great-something
mother’s wake?
Does it cheer like
the tiki-torches ...
is my sound.
Does it astound?
What is my voice,
is it made of a vise
of melting ice?
Tell me,
how do I sound?
Is it murmurs of
the paint cans just in case?
Does it whisper like
the tools hung
on the pegboard?
Does your ear
detect hisses
of muddy cat paws
on the car?
Do you remember
the hush-hush
of the dress you wore
to your great-something
mother’s wake?
Does it cheer like
the tiki-torches ...
#disability
20 reads
11 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
31st Dec 2018 10:22pm
31st Dec 2018 10:22pm
Missed Connections
The non-signaler in traffic,
or every half-met greeting, a reservation
is set for them in the Pit. Fumbled
stroll charged by creosote aroma, over
the bridge a spiked heat. Uncontrollable,
tar, dough. Expanded wood, the jammed door,
loosely bundled sock and your shoe hanging
off the toe, blustering, declaring
sensational soon-to-split irri-ta-tion.
Some kitchens are pristine and ours
grind crumbs in the bulk while we
are darkly snuggled, an irrigation into beds,
underneath our feet and on the verge
of farmhouse...
or every half-met greeting, a reservation
is set for them in the Pit. Fumbled
stroll charged by creosote aroma, over
the bridge a spiked heat. Uncontrollable,
tar, dough. Expanded wood, the jammed door,
loosely bundled sock and your shoe hanging
off the toe, blustering, declaring
sensational soon-to-split irri-ta-tion.
Some kitchens are pristine and ours
grind crumbs in the bulk while we
are darkly snuggled, an irrigation into beds,
underneath our feet and on the verge
of farmhouse...
#anxiety
#identity
#humankind
#inequality
#disability
21 reads
11 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
29th Dec 2018 5:12pm
29th Dec 2018 5:12pm
i'm a plant
as much as they jostle and elbow
to synthesize, they seed to survive
their own longevity and call out
to STEM the little ones
in an involuntary chain against
loneliness.
saplings, saplings- rise above
the sword ferns, they won’t hurt you.
clown fish, your mutual need
if only there is a job position
to monetize the sitting of a watched
growth. my friends are behind the trunks
that are moved of possessions,
baggage filled with mini-idols
and porcelain...
to synthesize, they seed to survive
their own longevity and call out
to STEM the little ones
in an involuntary chain against
loneliness.
saplings, saplings- rise above
the sword ferns, they won’t hurt you.
clown fish, your mutual need
if only there is a job position
to monetize the sitting of a watched
growth. my friends are behind the trunks
that are moved of possessions,
baggage filled with mini-idols
and porcelain...
#anxiety
#technology
#LifeStruggles
#MovingOn
#disability
22 reads
11 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
22nd Jan 2019 5:36am
22nd Jan 2019 5:36am
the title has been kept by the deity of lost objects
In being direct, I am trying to erect a border.
To finish an idea I have cradled since
entering that gallery. The one with Tom
slightly buzzing. I am finishing
that feeling. To contain that painting
of gas or heat. Rising as Einstein
curves in on himself. No, it’s not
a litmus test turning green.
I think it's what Dali
was doing also. There’s the root,
a quaquaversed tenacity, that extends
to the suns wobbling as dew.
I want to say the way memories carefully
crack. I say people in each spattered ...
To finish an idea I have cradled since
entering that gallery. The one with Tom
slightly buzzing. I am finishing
that feeling. To contain that painting
of gas or heat. Rising as Einstein
curves in on himself. No, it’s not
a litmus test turning green.
I think it's what Dali
was doing also. There’s the root,
a quaquaversed tenacity, that extends
to the suns wobbling as dew.
I want to say the way memories carefully
crack. I say people in each spattered ...
#friendship
#memories
#art #disability
#art #disability
24 reads
11 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
10th Mar 2019 2:07am
10th Mar 2019 2:07am
Ultraviolet
the parrot delights
even speeches even the rooster
sharpens you out of sleep
the beak parts and serrates
the mouth clay and i must trust
in high spirits all i see
are ghosting the outlines
the essence on walls
i must see see must i
it seems odd the invisible
narrowed to a box above aural
and the dark relied
from the canal's drums are it
them conquering aura has a grunt
we are mime become anti wind
that box we form...
even speeches even the rooster
sharpens you out of sleep
the beak parts and serrates
the mouth clay and i must trust
in high spirits all i see
are ghosting the outlines
the essence on walls
i must see see must i
it seems odd the invisible
narrowed to a box above aural
and the dark relied
from the canal's drums are it
them conquering aura has a grunt
we are mime become anti wind
that box we form...
#identity
#inequality
#disability
29 reads
26 Comments
yelluw_always
Poem Published
24th Dec 2018 11:14pm
24th Dec 2018 11:14pm
an elementary of souls
the numbers remain fixed in the universe
so how do we account for our
over-population as extinction blooms,
sprawling souls whose numbers flat-lined
await critical mass in a line
whistling it seems,
I wouldn’t know, transfixed as eyes
of an in-between upon pyramid guavas: gaudy
crumbs and forgetful America, the dinosaurs
have somewhere to reenter, I hope I hold
a leftover of the Dreadnoughtus, alas the queue
is as long as the stars continue
to thin
out, they had to...
so how do we account for our
over-population as extinction blooms,
sprawling souls whose numbers flat-lined
await critical mass in a line
whistling it seems,
I wouldn’t know, transfixed as eyes
of an in-between upon pyramid guavas: gaudy
crumbs and forgetful America, the dinosaurs
have somewhere to reenter, I hope I hold
a leftover of the Dreadnoughtus, alas the queue
is as long as the stars continue
to thin
out, they had to...
#rebirth
#evolution
#magic
#philosophical
#disability
40 reads
7 Comments
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