A Few Effects of Impairment

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A tightening stirs

Immobilizing in pain

The joints frozen—stained

In locations as they were

Before the adjustment came

Constraining incurred

Emblazoned by a whisper

Documented lines

Harboring the fugitive

Corruptions we all possess

Temptation’s window

Opens wider then the jamb

Allows the entrance

Of paralysis, trapping

The frozen center alone

A broken word is

Never different than a lie

Except, a promise

Never can atone aptly

For the distrusting seed sown

Upon barren soil

Ironically weeds find light,

Thriving distractions

To the arthritis within

Where locked you stay, motionless

The spine’s rigid grip

Sinning perpetually,

Protracting rarely

Encompassing all things known

Blanketing your surroundings

In a coal scented

Terror, alone you can feel

Others may suggest,

But they feign recollection

Betraying their ignorance

By indicating such

Knowledge acquired, lies breed

Like the primal flame

Searing a dishonesty

Into this facade flesh wears

Dreams of future live

Not in imagination

But through naïve eyes

For a soul untainted, is

Unquestionably joyful

Hope resides in thought

Connected to times before

When truth was enough

And faith, never burdensome,

But intrinsically sought for

Views of paradise

Can shift spatial boundaries

When grace is allowed

Entrance to your garden path—

Bestowing bounty in bliss

He who is hindered

May find himself limited

The ability

Of harnessing acceptance—

A concentrated skillset

Flexibility

Suffers in disabled hands

Showcasing angles

Too obscure to contemplate,

The many depths fathomed in

Herniated storms

Infect cervical tracts, past,

Physical torment—

And can alter confidence

To obfuscating borders

Misalignment greets

Thoracic mornings early

With destructive grins,

Screaming, writhing, begging for

A semblance of relief

Lumbar’s distressed touch

Violates the cord caressed,

Suppresses motion,

Inhibiting direction—

Fluidity begs for release

Chiropractic dreams,

A return to freedom’s past—

Before the dirge struck,

Therein restricting all thought—

An addiction to those hurt

Manipulation

Freeing compression’s coiling

Alleviating

The constrictive malady

Of nerves compacted by spine

Impairments

Teach effects of pain

The Masthead

Label me an infant

label me a fool

do not trust the anarchist

preaching about rules

label me a scapegoat

label me a tool

do not dam the floodgates

lest inside they form a pool

label me a train-wreck

label me as blind

its good to poke holes in theory

so truth can breathe in time

call me what you like

call me what you don’t

it doesn’t matter to me;

I’ve learned to laugh at all your jokes

labels are scattered; they’re thrown around

labels are but words; always lost, but never found

they have no bearing; they play no role

in who I am, to what I do

they have no influence; they have not a say

as to what fate finds in store for me

your words fall deaf, meaningless and weak

never providing the satisfaction that you seek

your words bring pain to others, highlighting their many scars

but you should be reflecting, as to where the damage starts

your words are but a mere transference

of what you’ve been and where and who you are

sticks and stones…if it appeases you…

just know…that for each judgment cast

I’ll shed a tear in prayer for you—

Forever using those labels as my mast

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Uselicity

A fault-line

Tripped implosion

Careened—

Leveling this sacristy.

Calloused toes,

Barefoot—

Skin atop corroded nail,

Filtered rust to vein,

Futures collapsed under

Rotted board.

Uselicity vanquishing

Rational defense.

Pain so rigid

It feels like death.

The raven and the vulture

Hover above this home’s empty shell.

Circling…in wait

For maggots to appear.

66

Heightened sensation of precognition
drew lapsing thoroughfare of cognition
into frantic disembowelment of faction.

Cryogenic remains of what once stirred
the elemental bliss--container not dry,
yet frozen for the present tense.

Sleight of spine, tinged in tears, bludgeoned
self-confidence and castrated the anointed--

words. ever-true. Turned against in desperation.
Panicked, at the thought
of hurting you.  Yet hurt was then beckoned
not to one but unto two.

Oceans filled the decanter of dreams
spilled dry…into wounds, opened-healed-
re-agitated by the salt distilled upon.

A sovereign voice
never thought of his own people
only worried- about what pain was paved  ahead
/closing the kingdoms door
/refilling the moat
too deadly to cross
/inflicting drought and plague
amongst those intent on protecting.

Sorrow filled the kingdom
from throne room down.

Boss of Guardians beheaded.

Perhaps…
The rain will clear
to the point where the antidote can be properly administrated

Perhaps…
Those wronged under the premise of intended deeds of noble airs, will return to the kingdom…

One day…perhaps.
One day…filled with hope (and a cure for spine).
One day..I pray.