Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Share Poetry Corner: Un-spiraling (Grounded) by Joshua Warren
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Or
Poetry Corner: Un-spiraling (Grounded) by Joshua Warren
Time;
Just ticking away.
Moving on without me,
leading me into directions that propel me into pressure.
Stress;
Creeping in the doorway.
Pressed against my temporal,
it blocks my ability to create with free spirit.
These are the little things that plague me
taking me into dark rooms
where there is no sunshine to feed me.
Together they breed a demon
more powerful than any fallen angel
and more subtle than a hammer to a nail.
These two bring frustration to the point that
anybody could get these hands;
even me.
That’s right, I fight myself.
Beat my ASS til there ain’t nothing left
but tiny remnants of what we call self-esteem.
I drowned that shit until I was left alone
in that dark room.
Left with nothing but the voices saying
“you ain’t never gonna be shit.”
And I believed them.
I accepted it as truth.
I took those words
made it into a t-shirt
and wore it across my chest
day in and day out.
Oh and I’m still a workin’ man.
I wake up every day,
put on my shirt and tie
and plant a smile on my face so I can help somebody else,
but ain’t never no time to help me.
I keep my feelings drawn and smile because
I know that nobody cares to listen.
And even if they do, they won’t do shit.
Hell, I don’t do shit.
That is,
until I need to.
When the voices are so close that they sound like truth
I go inward.
I retreat to a place where the sun shines again.
It never stops shining here.
I go to this place where the stars feed me life
and I can talk to my past lives like they ain’t never left.
I convene with the angels and dance in the cosmos with my best friend;
me.
He tells me I matter and makes me feel strong;
gives me everything I been needing without asking
for nothing in return.
He feeds me the bread of heaven.
And I show thanks by feeding everybody else.
He introduced me to mother,
the mother of all things
where I take my fill from her breast
and it gives me power
to not only see god,
but to be god.
She moves me through frequencies so that I have what it takes
to battle those demons
time and stress
with the strength of my pinky toe.
Mother and father raise me.
They help me to connect with the stock of gods
and remind me that I dwell there always.
They treat me as if I make no mistakes
because I make no mistakes,
only wrong turns.
They grant me access to everything that I need.
To keep me
going and growing
moving down the path of least resistance.
I need never to be afraid of darkness
and rooms filled with voices
and fear, and doubt, and guilt, and pain.
Not when the hands of God are always upon me.
When the rains that fall are here to nourish me,
I find comfort knowing that sometimes I fall back
into the unknowing.
Oh, but mother and father always got my back.
Like two paddles on a heart attack.
Here to give me life more abundantly,
and remind me that I am a king of many things.
I give thanks to thee.
For always loving me
enough to break my fall.
In me, I have it all.
View all episodes
By JWarren
5
99 ratings
Time;
Just ticking away.
Moving on without me,
leading me into directions that propel me into pressure.
Stress;
Creeping in the doorway.
Pressed against my temporal,
it blocks my ability to create with free spirit.
These are the little things that plague me
taking me into dark rooms
where there is no sunshine to feed me.
Together they breed a demon
more powerful than any fallen angel
and more subtle than a hammer to a nail.
These two bring frustration to the point that
anybody could get these hands;
even me.
That’s right, I fight myself.
Beat my ASS til there ain’t nothing left
but tiny remnants of what we call self-esteem.
I drowned that shit until I was left alone
in that dark room.
Left with nothing but the voices saying
“you ain’t never gonna be shit.”
And I believed them.
I accepted it as truth.
I took those words
made it into a t-shirt
and wore it across my chest
day in and day out.
Oh and I’m still a workin’ man.
I wake up every day,
put on my shirt and tie
and plant a smile on my face so I can help somebody else,
but ain’t never no time to help me.
I keep my feelings drawn and smile because
I know that nobody cares to listen.
And even if they do, they won’t do shit.
Hell, I don’t do shit.
That is,
until I need to.
When the voices are so close that they sound like truth
I go inward.
I retreat to a place where the sun shines again.
It never stops shining here.
I go to this place where the stars feed me life
and I can talk to my past lives like they ain’t never left.
I convene with the angels and dance in the cosmos with my best friend;
me.
He tells me I matter and makes me feel strong;
gives me everything I been needing without asking
for nothing in return.
He feeds me the bread of heaven.
And I show thanks by feeding everybody else.
He introduced me to mother,
the mother of all things
where I take my fill from her breast
and it gives me power
to not only see god,
but to be god.
She moves me through frequencies so that I have what it takes
to battle those demons
time and stress
with the strength of my pinky toe.
Mother and father raise me.
They help me to connect with the stock of gods
and remind me that I dwell there always.
They treat me as if I make no mistakes
because I make no mistakes,
only wrong turns.
They grant me access to everything that I need.
To keep me
going and growing
moving down the path of least resistance.
I need never to be afraid of darkness
and rooms filled with voices
and fear, and doubt, and guilt, and pain.
Not when the hands of God are always upon me.
When the rains that fall are here to nourish me,
I find comfort knowing that sometimes I fall back
into the unknowing.
Oh, but mother and father always got my back.
Like two paddles on a heart attack.
Here to give me life more abundantly,
and remind me that I am a king of many things.
I give thanks to thee.
For always loving me
enough to break my fall.
In me, I have it all.