Download PDF My Path to Poetry While in Captivity: Poetry Through the Eyes of a Surviving Prisoner

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The poems on this page were submitted to MIM by prisoners. Words are destroyed when given so loud, A captive- yes! and if you could look through my eyes, you would probably squinch, at the horrors impoverished people are trying just to simply survive, they become You choose the path that governs your fate.
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I am a time traveller, as I glide back into the womb of existence. Water and silence. Bemused, confused regurgitating the news, summertime or wintertime blues, the change of light effects the eyesight,. At 11 Mastering the stars - black holes look, mummy their, inside out the energy confirmed by the programme I watched late at night Whilst you thrashed at the bedclothes I didn't know - No sleeping bag no sleep. Child of mine, lost in worlds not of my making. Would that I could steal into those worlds with you, caper through valleys, chasing dragons and dreams. Or scale a mountain and together stand silent at a sunrise plump with promise, while I watch its light and joy break into those dark eyes of hidden places.

Life After 11 Years of Captivity, Rape and Torture: Michelle Knight's Story

Catch echoes of my love whispered back on a distant breeze. Perhaps your world resounds already with songs and laughter, wrought in night-and-day dreams. And my voice? My voice is all but lost to you. Yet, still I will come, running and chasing, declaring devotion. And always, always marvelling at the mystery: Child of mine.


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The thinkers mind enjoys his solitude but not so his heart Alone in my world, tedium shows no respite Time and space coalesce, a shield, encumbering my heart Giving me time to imprint my thoughts upon eternity. Intensity of no-one Far-resounding peace Speak unspoken language As if words had ceased.

Darker sky brings coolness Rainfall's gentle hiss Gorging eyes in blankness Witness to your bliss. Grand and enigmatic Light and darkness surge Human life forgotten Spirit lives, we merge.

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Tom feels alone most of the time. He feels left out, and out of place He looks for some signs. He cannot drive, he is an underdeveloped man. He tends to focus a lot on overdeveloped plans. And the night comes through to haunt him. The mysterious fears that never go away. Almost all alone. Nobody at home but his father. Right now. He can make it somehow. If he stands at the edge He can feel proud. And good.

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Not just misunderstood. Tom has been on many dates. Yet they always fall to parts. Nobody really gets him. His honesty tears them apart. Too bad that his realm of knowledge. Is specialized yet interpreted as slow.

So many thoughts he cannot sleep. Not even counting sheep can make him sleep. Add some relatives, a few friends It may even grow. And soon it will come, all dreams can come true. But they may always alienate him while it lasts.

Prisoner Poetry Page

Maybe the only peace is eternal peace when he is Or maybe some smiles can make it all pass. Liquid being in human form. A full castle of upward stairs Playing parts on digital screens Reaching out for magic in the air The cinema becomes an inspiration A pacifist but a hunter be Clearly walking in the shadows A bedraggled glimpse of society And the world outside always rains The thunder always shakes The expression always reaching for The intellectual earthquakes Not all demons may be bad We all have our own justifications We are creatures, robots of bone A zero man situation.

Zero man Pulled under since years ago Sometimes gasping for a foom of air Sitting down in Gemini form Relaxation but there's no pleasure here The only crest I have is blue and white Sometimes I wish that I had none at all Being a nomad across the world But when I'm at every phone, there's nobody to call And the world outside is a cruel one The imagination isn't clear I can feel myself choking on the sameness But I'm not going anywhere Not all madness may be bad We all have our own comfort zones We are all alike, no matter what A zero man cologne Zero man.

Zero man Sometimes I want to wake up, and live inside my dream Sometimes I want to focus like a laser beam On everything I really want to do, on everything I need To break free from this prison of uncertainty To break free from doubt of inconsistency To break free, but I'll always be me If anything gets erased If anything gets changed It will still exist Even if it is so closely arranged I filter through mass pustules Lingering in between life and death Bring yourself some depression pills As we take a second breath I am still thinking I am still waking up to what's going on in my head I'm still thinking People chasing massacre mysteries Autobiographies for sale So we can tell where the evil is Get a bucket, get a pail We all look at ourselves as foreigners Even if we have the same melody Let me relax before thinking The zero man is free Zero man.

Lee is a mother of a son and Aunt of a niece with AS. This poem is for her niece, which helps her to go to sleep at night. Stop looking for rhyme or reason you are in the house of the ill repute where every original thought is treason the "madness" clause is their strongest suit.

A place where lies aid and abet you where honesty is a sinfull word this is the game of which you must play as these are the habits of the herd. Let me elucidate on this complex neurological state. Is it as bad as some might say? Lets look at things another way! You may be at odds with the typical crowd. So what! Don't wrap yourself up in blanket of guilt. Stand strong and discard that quilt. There are so many things that you can embrace.

Don't be an actor wearing a neourotypical face.

Mary Robinson (poet) - Wikipedia

Don't be ashamed that you may feel odd. You are you. A gift from god! Its easy to wax lyrical whilst being somewhat cynical.

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But remember this first. Asperger's can be a blessing and not a curse. I am an individual You may think I have oddities They may be odd to you But they are not odd to me I can't change It is who I am I try to do it the way you asked I can see you get upset with me I have tried to understand Do you try to understand me Why am I always being made to feel wrong Feel I am bad Everything has a flow The current sometimes splashes away The force of the water will cut new paths When the way is clear the water will be free It can now venture a new direction I will cut the path It is the very things that seem odd The ones that stand out Have a strong sense of self They will be the ones that form new paths Paths for others to follow Guide them in the right direction Something can only be odd Until you discover it's true self Once this is accomplished You can choose to embrace the oddities See their purpose And then understand that they are not bad Nancy Getty.

Fear, sensitivities, misunderstandings, anxiety My eyes stayed lowered My hands quivered and shook My body tense My mind in turmoil Lost to wander alone The past Now I stand stronger My eyes can fleet back and forth across the faces My hands still speak my emotions My body is calmer, my mind more focused Now I have confidence, direction Once people saw only my differences With hard work and believing that I could With understanding and patient supports Now people see me but question my diagnosis I now sit on a fence Which way do I go?

Home, where I can honestly be me Or to the world that I thought was what I wanted Both offer different gifts, different aspects of life I will not choose but instead remain comfy on the fence Part of me on either side Connected in both worlds. They walk beside you They may pass unnoticed You may see them Once they stand away Seem different Off on the side In their own space In their own movements In their own world They may make you laugh Maybe you will get angry Or, you may just shake your head Walk away in disgust They do not wish to harm anyone They are just different then most They are the invisible They want to fit in with you They may want to be your friend There is a part of them that tries so hard But they cannot change who they are They cannot change what is real and true So they will forever walk alone among you They are the invisible They are autistic Nancy Getty.

Doesn't feel like I'll Ever be able to Fathom its icy depths, or its vice-like Grip on my heart. Helpless I watched it invade our lives - Just flailed its way through, Kicking and screaming, Like those meltdowns that last for hours.