Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

My Fear Of Being A Shut In

No one comes unless they have to.
For three years and a little over two months,
I have been a recluse.
At one time for nearly three years,
I lived in my car where my wifes lawyer put me.
Even though we need shelter food and safety,
many thousands have been legislated by Florida,
to live with out it.
Then they arrested me based on the word
of a woman whom had been
in and out of Florida's State Hospital.
Called Chattahoochee opened in eighteen seventy six.
Where thousands of people have died and nightmares were real.
Shock therapy, lobotomized, raw fecal fear worse than death.
Quietly If no one can see me, I wait to die.
While as a client at the same out patient facility, Directions
in hind sight I was more vulnerable than I thought,
this facility knew she was dangerous and did not tell me.
Even worse to another she had done to this other before me.
Acquitted through trial she lost her child unable to cope with the stress.
I shall never leave my room again because of what they knew
and what it did to me, on going nightmares of fear.
She over dosed on drugs and died I told them this about her,
and they did nothing, it as why I was her friend up until.
Others whom go there said she deserved this I then and now do not.
Mental illness was and is the same, to hurt them more?
I once functioned at such a high level my whole life,
I am waiting to die as I contribute nothing to my state any more.
I am ashamed that I can't do more.
If it is necessary to maintain the separation of my venture,
Because I greatly once loved, I once went out into the world.
The great harvester comes, silver aluminum foil hats, that some alien wears.
Malaysia flight, MH 370 is where?
To overcome their bias is proving that being born to soon is difficult,
I truly thought that I could out wait it all, this ignorance in my room.
But when the legislature has to tell the Judges to prosecute bad laws,
like Hitler did the Jews did fear is all we have.
The lack of communication is the largest part in us this failure.
Instead of fighting uphill battles against the machine that rages to kills us.
When we leave our spiteful life behind us
and leave the old thinking words of past introduction's.
And the highly Educated old white haired southern men the amused one's,
laugh at you, there very presence proves, that you were unqualified to vote.

Submitted: Monday, April 28, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, April 29, 2014

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Topic(s): green

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  • Bri Edwards (4/30/2014 10:25:00 PM)

    i started a comment earlier today and got interrupted. now i'm back and have just read your bio. i think i read it last year? also. your bio makes me think that this poem is indeed some true episode(s) of your life. we have communicated a few times in the past and you recently commented on one of my colonoscopy poems. i had already been thinking of checking out one of your poems again; it's been a while.
    yes, is it poetry is perhaps an apt name for you, as i am apt to wonder if this poem is poetry. but i'm not a poetry expert so i won't deny that it is OR acknowledge that it is. but it was interesting; i'm not sure i would like someone to say one of my poems was interesting UNLESS they said more than that. but i just heard the kitchen fan go 'off'/being turned off downstairs, so i may be expected to go down and have supper now with my wife.
    hopefully i will remember to get back here to leave more of a comment some day!
    thanks for sharing, even if it is not so easy [sometimes] to know what is being said and what to believe when i read your 'poetry'. bri :) (Report) Reply

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