PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 

 

I am! Yet what I am, who comprehends?

     My lifelines falter like a fading star.

I am the vessel where my torment ends,

     Vestibular vertigo, near and far.

The dizzying world whose balance I have lost—

And yet I am—I live—though I am tossed

 

 

Into the tempest of dismissive eyes,

     Into the churning sea of disbelief,

Where decades of authenticated cries

     Find no harbour, no shore, no relief.

And all that's dear grows distant in the mist,

My Millie gone, my comfort ceased to exist.

 

 

I walk on fractured paths none understand,

     Each step a trial through fibrous burning flame.

Authorities observe with folded hands,

     Their coffers full, while I bear all the blame.

I labour through six days of ceaseless strain,

Yet cannot shake the shackles of this pain.

 

 

I long for centres where compassion dwells,

     For quiet corners where truth might flourish still;

Instead, I find but empty, hollow shells

     Of systems built to break, not heal or fill.

The medical reports pile high, unread,

While hunger gnaws beneath each sunset red.

 

 

If those who govern, those who claim to care

     Choose wilful blindness as they watch me fall,

Why not complete what suffering laid bare?

     A kinder end than no response at all.

The noose of neglect tightens day by day—

At least be honest as you turn away.

 

 

So let me lie where honesty prevails,

     The earth below; above, Australian skies.

No more false promises or fairy tales,

     Just peace at last when weary spirit flies.

What mercy is there in prolonged decay?

When swift release would end this cruel display

 

 

 

 

 

In the shadows of adversity, a plea emerges,

A whisper carried on the winds of change.

I, David Wakeham, a neurodivergent soul,

Humbly seek solace, a home to call my own.

 

 

Through realms of Australia, South Africa, and beyond,

I've tirelessly served, a beacon for the unheard.

In shelters and pounds, a voice for the voiceless,

Mending broken spirits, a balm for the wounded.

 

 

Yet now, I find myself adrift, eviction looming,

The weight of complex ailments, a tempest brewing.

cPTSD, ASD, chronic pain, and more,

A labyrinth of challenges, a path untamed.

 

 

But in this darkness, a light still flickers,

The unconditional love of my faithful companions.

Boudica, my Tonkinese queen, a regal presence,

Her purrs a symphony, a balm for my essence.

 

 

Badger, a tuxedo cat, his fur a flowing river,

A constant companion, his love a gentle quiver.

Rīx, my loyal black cat, a shadow in the night,

His presence a comfort, a guardian of light.

 

 

And Missy, the brave pup, who fought tetanus's blight,

Her courage a reminder, to never give up the fight.

Through shared pain and fear, our hearts intertwined,

In each other's solace, true strength we find.

 

 

In their gentle gaze, my truest friends reside, 

A family's embrace, with love as my guide.  

They bring me light when shadows creep near, 

A precious connection, reminding me to hold dear.

 

 

I seek not just shelter, but a haven of healing,

A sanctuary where shattered pieces can mend.

For in stability lies the strength to rebuild,

To tutor diverse minds, to complete a Master's journey.

 

 

Mr. Kitty, an old soul with wisdom deep and profound, 

Inspiring my poetry, published a lasting testament to our bond

And Millie, with a zest for life that knew no bounds, 

Her legacy a loving reminder that joy truly can be found.

 

 

In their eyes, I find the courage to persevere,

To battle the demons that haunt my waking dreams.

For they are not merely pets, but emotional anchors,

A lifeline tethered to hope, a bond that never severs.

 

 

So I come to you, dear stranger, with an open heart,

A plea for empathy, a call to action.

Your generosity could be the turning point,

A beacon of light amidst the encroaching void.

 

 

Every dollar a step closer to stability,

A chance to continue the noble pursuit of uplifting others.

For in helping those in need, we find our own salvation,

A symphony of survival, a protest against systematic stagnation.

 

 

The scent of eucalyptus and petrichor linger,

As the sun dips below the horizon, a fiery finger.

The wind whispers through the gum trees, a hushed lullaby,

Rustling leaves like a thousand gentle sighs.

 

 

The soft fur of my companions brushes against my skin,

A tactile reminder of the love that lies within.

Their purrs and barks, a symphony of hope,

A melody that helps me cope.

 

 

In this tapestry of life, we are all intertwined,

Our stories woven together, a bond divine.

So please, lend your support, share this tale,

For in unity, we can weather any gale.

 

 

Together, we can secure a safe haven,

For a person and their companions, a bond unshaven.

In the darkest of nights, a single spark can ignite,

A flame of hope, a path towards the light.

 

 

 

In silent screams, six sides shatter;

Unheard anguish, a voiceless cry;

Broken bonds, trust torn asunder;

Shadows creep where hope runs dry.

Unheard anguish, a voiceless cry;

An unbreakable shape, now unmade;

Shadows creep where hope runs dry;

In darkness, a tortured soul betrayed.

An unbreakable shape, now unmade;

Scars unseen, a secret hell within;

In darkness, a tortured soul betrayed;

Wounded healer, touched by sin.

Scars unseen, a secret hell within;

In silent screams, six sides shatter;

Wounded healer, touched by sin;

Broken bonds, trust torn asunder.

 Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

 

 

In shadows of fear, a whisper takes hold,

A sinister seed, a conspiracy untold.

Whispers of a virus, man-made and vile,

Profit the motive, trust exiled.

 

 

Amidst echoes of doubt and deceit's dark dance,

A personal battle, a silent stance.

Isolation's sting, stigma's crushing weight,

The heaviness of uncertainty's relentless gait.

 

 

Michel Simonin's struggle, a fight to be heard,

Against AIDS' cruel stigma, his voice undeterred.

In letters and television, his story unfurled,

Defying the silence, refusing to be deterred.

 

 

Through tears of resilience, a choice bravely made,

To shatter the silence, to not be swayed.

Unveiling the humanity behind the disease,

Reclaiming identity, refusing to appease.

 

 

Yet in depths of sorrow's unending night,

Science illuminates, a beacon of light.

WGS and NGS unravel the viral code,

Evolution's truth, HIV's primal abode.

 

 

In sequencing's intricate art, a tale unfolds,

Of chimpanzee origins, zoonotic thresholds. Palindromes dance in the RNA's sway,

Nature's complex beauty, now on display.

 

 

Yet echoes of deception still linger and spread,

Shattering lives, filling hearts with dread.

The vulnerable bear the heaviest toll,

In fabrication's web, their innocence stole.

 

 

In this intimate war, we must take a stand,

Embracing our scars, extending a hand.

Empathy our salve, compassion our guide,

In unity and truth, our spirits reside.

 

 

From pain's crucible, we'll rise transformed,

Scars into strength, wisdom reborn.

In the symphony of survival, harmony will reign,

As we honour the journey, through sun and rain.

 

 

With science as our compass, truth as our light,

We'll navigate the landscapes of the heart's might.

Reclaiming our stories, our voices bold,

In courage and resilience, our lives we'll mould.

 

 

In the tapestry of existence, we'll find our place,

Stitching together healing, with tender grace.

Each breath a rebellion, each moment a choice,

To survive and thrive, with authentic voice.

 

 

In the echoes of resilience, hope whispers anew,

Threads of connection, strength to see us through. 

Through shadows and light, we'll weave our way,

Embracing our truth, come what may.

 

 

In the alchemy of survival, transformation blooms, 

Vulnerability becomes armour, silence finds its tune.

From shattered fragments, a mosaic we'll raise,

A testament to the unbreakable human spirit's blaze.

 Echoes of Deception, Threads of Hope

 

 

In shadows of fear, a whisper takes hold,

A sinister seed, a conspiracy untold.

Whispers of a virus, man-made and vile,

Profit the motive, trust exiled.

 

 

Amidst echoes of doubt and deceit's dark dance,

A personal battle, a silent stance.

Isolation's sting, stigma's crushing weight,

The heaviness of uncertainty's relentless gait.

 

 

Michel Simonin's struggle, a fight to be heard,

Against AIDS' cruel stigma, his voice undeterred.

In letters and television, his story unfurled,

Defying the silence, refusing to be deterred.

 

 

Through tears of resilience, a choice bravely made,

To shatter the silence, to not be swayed.

Unveiling the humanity behind the disease,

Reclaiming identity, refusing to appease.

 

 

Yet in depths of sorrow's unending night,

Science illuminates, a beacon of light.

WGS and NGS unravel the viral code,

Evolution's truth, HIV's primal abode.

 

 

In sequencing's intricate art, a tale unfolds,

Of chimpanzee origins, zoonotic thresholds.
Palindromes dance in the RNA's sway,

Nature's complex beauty, now on display.

 

 

Yet echoes of deception still linger and spread,

Shattering lives, filling hearts with dread.

The vulnerable bear the heaviest toll,

In fabrication's web, their innocence stole.

 

 

In this intimate war, we must take a stand,

Embracing our scars, extending a hand.

Empathy our salve, compassion our guide,

In unity and truth, our spirits reside.

 

 

From pain's crucible, we'll rise transformed,

Scars into strength, wisdom reborn.

In the symphony of survival, harmony will reign,

As we honour the journey, through sun and rain.

 

 

With science as our compass, truth as our light,

We'll navigate the landscapes of the heart's might.

Reclaiming our stories, our voices bold,

In courage and resilience, our lives we'll mould.

 

 

In the tapestry of existence, we'll find our place,

Stitching together healing, with tender grace.

Each breath a rebellion, each moment a choice,

To survive and thrive, with authentic voice.

 

 

In the echoes of resilience, hope whispers anew,

Threads of connection, strength to see us through. 

Through shadows and light, we'll weave our way,

Embracing our truth, come what may.

 

 

In the alchemy of survival, transformation blooms, 

Vulnerability becomes armour, silence finds its tune.

From shattered fragments, a mosaic we'll raise,

A testament to the unbreakable human spirit's blaze.

Discordant Note

Scratching, floating

Hanging in the air

 

 

Pressure ebbs and flows 

Headpiece filled with straw

 

 

A twisted melody lingers

Confusion and rage entwined 

Resentment's bitter sting

Wrestles with sorrow's whine

 

 

Innocence stolen, trust shattered

By hands meant to protect

 

 

The child within still bleeds

Silently searching, begging for respect 

 

 

Justice denied, our secrets buried

Master manipulator 

A monster cloaked in lies

 

 

Crimes still hidden 

Despite Death's hand

Too late for tortured cries

 

 

Feet of clay now returned to dust

From whence they darkly came

Leaving behind a tangled mess

Of trauma, grief and shame 

 

 

The urge to desecrate, destroy

Wage war upon their grave

Wrestling with guilt, pity and relief 

Yes, he is no more

But I am not yet saved

 

 

This victory feels hollow 

An unearned, empty gift

When wounds still pulse and throb

No closure, the burdens unshift 

 

 

 

I imagine looking for the tombstone,

Fists and soul clenched tight,

Anger, disgust, and rage.

 

 

Shadows cast doubt over my morals,

Compass dysfunctional, truth estranged.

Like Basque tongues tangled with Ainu clicks,

A labyrinth of questions ethics inflicts.

 

 

No tears of mourning shed

No idea the monster was laid to rest

Three years later, a happy accident

Release a demon locked deep in my chest

 

 

How to reconcile the little child

Who needed love and care

With the person now made to carry

This discordant note hanging in the air

 

 

In the depths of this discordance 

Frustration and confusion still rise

Dare I confront the shadows

Curse their peaceful demise?

 

 

Every anguished scream swallowed 

Each day, coerced, suffocated in silence

Transmuting years of buried aches

Why not release in rightful fierce violence?

 

 

Through serpentine paths of healing

Piece by shattered piece remade,

Scars shimmering with untold stories 

Of battles braved and traumas mourned

 

 

In owning all that was endured

By innocent hands and shattered trust

Languidly learning to cradle, soothe

My inner child waiting, weeping in the dust

 

 

Each breath is an act of bravery

Every step is defiant, resolute 

Reclaiming fractured narratives

No longer voiceless or mute

Through my poetry, I find release

May its rhythm grant me peace.

 

 

This journey from victim to victor

Is paved with shards of broken self

Reassembled by courageous hands

Into mosaics of pain and health 

 

 

A symphony of survival

Echoes in the spaces in between

I cannot rewrite my cruel history 

I yearn like others to live and dream

 

 

Beyond the reach of phantom hands

That sought to break and steal and mar

I rise in revolutionary softness

Tempered by battles, reminded by scars

 

 

The discordant note, a stubborn seed, 

Resists the soil, its tyranny decreed, 

Yet woven slow, within the larger frame, 

An ostinato may conquer its shame, 

Finds solace in the weave, a timeless plea, 

Echoing Eliot, Stravinsky rewrites history. 

 

 

Amidst the onslaught of festive frenzy,
Neurodivergent minds reel a tempest here to sear.
Senses assaulted, relentlessly vexed,
Christmas chaos leaves us perplexed.


Masking's breaking, taking weight, a suffocating shroud,
Authenticity lost in the neurotypical crowd.
ADHD autism's ache, an adult's disgrace,
So, invisible struggles are present in this merry place.


Pain's persistent, pounding refrain, an endless score,
Fibromyalgia's claws, forever tore.
Spine curved like a question mark,
Vertigo's dance, a dizzying arc.


Poverty's clutch cuts deep, leave plans in disarray,
Opportunities vanish, like mist in the day.
Isolation, depression, chronic cursed alone,
In a world where bonds stretch, then are gone.


Trauma mars, leaves scars, rape's brutal seal,
cPTSD's tortures - terrors forever real.
Triggers flashbacks, a minefield within,
Clock tick-tocks, the night's wearing thin.


Passivity creeps in just like a mischievous elf,
A sinister spirit keeps us captive, steals our self.
Painfully forcing out a cry, on deaf ears they fall,
"You knew they wouldn't", it sneers, "more unanswered calls".


In despair's abyss, hope's flicker dies,
As the world rejoices, behind a joyful disguise.
Countless unseen battles and unheard cries,
Anguish, desperation, pain, do naked eyes lie?


To those who feign concern, a warning rings clear,
Your platitudes and neglect, a deafening sneer.
For in the depths of despair, a reckoning brews,
When the desperate depart, with nothing to lose.


In the sombre, silent night, when alienation reigns,
The psyche buckles, under the weight of its chains.
Remember, you who turned a blind eye,
The blood on your hands as the outcast dies.


So let the silence shatter, let the truth be known,
For the neglected and broken, forever alone.
May their memory haunt, may their absence resound,
A damning indictment, of the help never found.


Silently in the night, isolation's doom looms,
For those left to rot, in desolation's tombs.
A scourge on false kindness, on empathy's dearth,
As the forgotten depart, from this merciless Earth.


A warning to those who still pretend to care,
Of the anguish hidden, behind festive despair's lair.
Family friends forsaken in desolation's night,
Cast aside, ignored as time ticks on, year's plight.


In the silent night, a dirge ascends,
For those struggling, lost at the year's end.
Society's apathy, an unpalatable bitter pill,
Washed down with tears, we fade away against our will.


Let the silence break; let the truth be told,
Of the torment endured, the agony untold.
In summer's sweat, a reckoning should rise,
Power imbalances now, no escape our fate's demise.


May our ghosts haunt the whole season bright,
Reminding us of those for whom this time's a blight.
In the season's glare, coalescing shadows reign,
Numerous reasons, curses feeding this pain.


A moment of stillness, amidst the hurricane,
A flicker of self, in the endless pain.
Battered and bruised, yet still we stand,
In defiance of a world, that refuses to understand.


Whilst it is true, many times I have tried,
But for my animals, it is on me that they rely.
As night follows day and day follows night,
Dark forces frantically fighting, stealing my fight.


Hope's a medicine, both a curse and a sure cure,
Healing if repeatedly given - the source pure.
Decidedly dangerous, deadly, dangled as a prize,
Breaking faith's wraith, soon you and society they'll despise.


A pox on ableism, on empathy's lack,
As we vanish slowly, our lives off-track.
In the silent night, our requiem it plays,
The forgotten ones, left on birthdays and holidays.

Christmas Day Again

Silence. No calls or message

Suicide Beckons

Silence swallows screams, unheard, unseen,

Isolation's icy fingers intervene.

Worthless, weightless—a whisper in the wind,

Concern and care consistently rescind.

 

 

Learned helplessness lingers, a phantom limb,

Diffusion of responsibility—humanity’s whim.

Each turns away, eyes averted, hands clean,

"Someone else will help," the collective keen.

 

 

Trust shattered like shards of brittle glass,

Faith in humanity—a fading, futile farce.

Social supports crumble, connections corrode,

Leaving loneliness to lighten the load.

 

 

Voices echo in vacant vestibules,

Pleas for help—perceived as ridicules.

Invisible, invalidated, incessantly ignored,

Self-worth withers, relentlessly deplored.

 

 

Hope's horizon blurs, hazy and distant,

As apathy's armor grows more resistant.

In this wasteland of indifference, we wander,

Unseen, unheard—left alone to ponder.

 

 

The weight of the world, once shared, now solely borne,

In a society seemingly sworn

To turn blind eyes and deaf ears to pain,

Leaving the vulnerable out in the rain.

 

Yet still we stand, silent sentinels,

Amidst the chaos of life's cruel carousels.

Unheard, unloved, but unbroken still,

Surviving spite of society's ill will.