Bullying, Confessional Poetry, Depression, Gay Poet, Gay Writer, Life, Pain, Poem, Poetry, Slam Poem, Social Issues

Currency of Pain

Currency of Pain
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
Written: 12 Sept 2014

Common knowledge suggests words can hurt
Provoking the reality in a person to pervert
To a point where perspective is corroded
The beat of being now coded

Foggy thoughts thicken with poison
Naïve hearts descend to frozen
Happiness in veins start to congeal
Self-doubt is all that is real

To the ones who developed an aptitude
At holding the weight of verbal abuse
Plaster a false smile that touches the eyes
Hide the echoes of a foreseen demise

Today it’s a natural and a common exchange
To barter with the currency of pain
Make sure to grow your skin thick
Or risk becoming their nuisance

A joke about your shifting frame
Don’t like it, you can always change
Their snickers will fade from head
A new you formed by what others said

But what about traits rigidly set
How can one reasonably correct
The splash of race to which he was born
Or the culture from which she was formed

When people attack at individual’s roots
This can promote tragedy to brew
Possibly hate for the world or himself
A feeling like she’s teetering off life’s shelf

Yet we continue to boldly tease
Shading it under friendship’s normalcy
It is something that has become common place
Funny that malice has a natural taste

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Confessional Poetry, Depression, Gay Poet, Gay Writer, Life, Poem, Poetry, Slam Poem

The Game

The Game
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
Written: 04 Sept 2014

My memory has a tendency to make shadows
Blacking out things that I used to know
I can see experience flee and contort
Like a maze with no end, out of sorts

Last night my fingers fell wildly stale
Over written memories that fatally fail
To inspire emotion from a stalled state
There is no chance to resuscitate

Words meant to light up our connection
A stoic friendship meant for detection
Yet signed platitudes are hard to decipher
Bonds diminished by life’s accidental sniper

When heat spills on books meant to chill time
A side effect in a mind prone to decline
Recollections, like steam, tend to evaporate
The structure of brain much weaker than slate

So I cling to eyes for some solid foundation
Reminding myself of our joint creation
But I know that time is fond of the game
With ubiquity of people, recognition is maimed

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Addiction, Confessional Poetry, Depression, Gay Poet, Gay Writer, Poem, Poetry, Slam Poem, Uncategorized

Savagery

Savagery
By: Jurri Saddler Jr.
18 July 2014

Tonight my soul echoed past recoil
As I felt myself fall away as soil
Lost among new connections worn thin
I scattered easily in that Wyo wind

The five day glass encased sobriety
Found fragility within my reckless anxiety
Enough to leave shards in a mind weak
I twitch trying to get back in sync

Heart, mind, soul-all now out of control
A body’s addiction now on patrol
To capture what chills life’s rejection
A crutch that offers new perceptions

The remedy powers a car into drive
Misery clouded within unintended sighs
Paranoid that their hours have expired
Heats the despair behind an addict’s fire

Approach the door with minutes stripped bare
Rush but camouflage the flashes of despair
For shady hope lies bottled and cooled
A cankered soul begins to flow smooth

Rush to hear the pop of that cork
For the sound hold ease of course
How many times have I traveled this path?
In an attempt to avoid hate fueled self-wrath

The first glass splashes false calm
Smothers and snuffs out that song
That has vibrated within my faint pulse
Beats and tones that always repulse

Now my joy is easy to fabricate
My appetite to live I satiate
Kept safely from that downward spiral
Easing the pressure from depression’s dial

Yet I know I can’t fool sickly gravity
Forever marked by that certain depravity
Taken away before my innocence bloomed
My life has been tainted with the color of doom

But no matter how far my synapses sink
In the liquid coated in fake relief
The harsh whispers of my suppressed insanity
Always return to violate my being

Choked and battered in a routine fashion
My thoughts give my feelings daily lashings
To the point where my duration seems slight
I will fade away as day to night

But my predicament is laced with confusion
Not sure if an end is a solution
For I have always thought myself as a tragedy
But is it a side effect of my savagery

A mechanism that is bred to cope
Brought in at times that lacked hope
Yet it is an effort for me to simply exist
When every moment feels like an empty abyss

 

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