Caged Bird – Poetry Reblog
Mal Voix
I don’t deserve deliciousSelf deprecating wishesI don’t deserve the moonThe sun can turn its face tooI found my father’s touchOf gloom in my veinsResiduals of pain remanufacturedIn me the stress of eternity Stretching to be better thanThe very best of goodI cry to laugh instead ofRemembering the cruelCool, cool, cool Do other humansScold themselves orOverthink […]
Mal Voix
Talk heavy! At some poetry events, it’s traditional to snap fingers when a poet has really made an impression. Well, where I’m from, everyone says in unison. TALK HEAVY!! TALK HEAVY, TALK HEAVY!! It’s really a very powerful expression.
Poetry Review
This poet has his comments turned, I feel like a woman trying to have her voice and assessment heard. I’m pushy. This poem touched my heart ❤️
This poem is a raw, introspective exploration of self-worth, generational pain, and the complex, often fraught relationships between parent and child. He/she (not sure) drew me into this deeply personal, almost confessional space.
The recurring motif of undeservedness—”I don’t deserve delicious,” “I don’t deserve the moon”—suggests a pervasive self-doubt and an inherited sense of inadequacy. You grapples with the emotional residue of a father’s “touch of gloom” and a mother’s judgments, painting a picture of someone burdened by both their lineage and their own internal struggles. The lines- “Residuals of pain remanufactured / In me the stress of eternity” poignantly capture the idea of inherited trauma reshaping the self.
This poem also raises universal questions: “Do other humans / Scold themselves or / Overthink to the hilt of difficult” speaks to the shared, often unspoken burdens of overanalysis and self-criticism. It confronts the paradox of feeling like “no one” despite striving to be “better than the very best of good.”
Your language shifts between sharp, almost clinical observations—“self-inflicted discontented / Polydactyl internalized sewer-like sores of contradiction”—and moments of tender vulnerability, such as the acknowledgment of a father’s forgotten love and the longing for connection: “Feel the love spilt over the ground.” This contrast mirrors the push and pull between self-loathing and the yearning for healing.
Ultimately, your poem is a cathartic expression of pain and resilience. The final lines—“we carry on”—capture the persistence of the human spirit, even under the weight of wounds both inherited and self-inflicted. It’s a poignant reminder of the complexities of identity, love, and the ongoing journey toward self-acceptance.
I know, I’m longwinded, at least that’s what my mate tells me 😊
Fascinating self assessment! I love poetry, it is so therapeutic. I have wrote away the pain in many of my pieces.
I will stop here because I feel another paragraph stiring, and this review has already gotten very lengthy.
This poem was heart-felt, I absolutely adore the vulnerability of it ❤️
Death Waits for Me ~ Poetry
I have gone for miles trying to catch your breath
Through fields of sorrow through the shadow of death
Beneath the moon’s soft silver light
Death walks alone in the still of night
The grim reaper calm yet cold
With stories of ages both young and old
Running from the reaper he’s looked at with disgust
Time slipping through fingers we’ll all return to dust
Going to an unfamiliar place he pulls me down low
And I’m sad from the weight of what I know
I hope I get to say my goodbyes as I wait as I see
Because death is patient
Because death still waits for me
It whispers it glides through the silent air
A promise of peace or a touch of despair
It dances where time begins to fray
Guiding the lost on their final way
No plea can halt its steady stride
For no one can slip from its grasp or even hide
A quiet close to the storms of life
I’m not ready to enter the afterlife
Have no fear death is not the end we see
But surely a doorway
To eternity
Poetry Review – By Adam Fenner
In “Mangled,” the poet takes the reader through the messy, chaotic experience of being trapped in one’s own thoughts—where memories don’t just resurface, but become twisted, dissected, and judged. The poem revolves around the mental struggle of overthinking, of being unable to escape the weight of one’s own mind. The speaker isn’t simply recalling the past; they are stuck in a loop of revisiting, analyzing, and condemning their own thoughts. Each memory becomes a battleground, a place where the past is constantly questioned and critiqued, turning into a source of shame and self-recrimination. The speaker’s mind is overwhelmed by the tangled mess of their own thoughts, unable to find peace or clarity.
The structure of the poem reflects this mental confusion. The fragmented lines, interruptions, and repetitions mirror the speaker’s inability to string together coherent thoughts. The constant shift between “What I thought” and “What’s the coordinance?” shows how the speaker is stuck in a cycle of overthinking, where not only their memories but the very act of thinking itself becomes disjointed and unreliable. This kind of disorientation is central to the experience the poem captures—it’s not just that the speaker is struggling to locate themselves within their thoughts, but that their thoughts themselves are fractured and elusive. The repeated use of “Shame” amplifies this feeling, acting as a hammering reminder of self-judgment that the speaker can’t escape. It’s as if the speaker is locked in a mental loop, unable to let go of the negative thoughts and judgments they place on themselves.
What’s striking in the poem is the way judgment doesn’t just come from others—it comes from within. The speaker is at war with their own mind, constantly trying to make sense of their thoughts but only digging themselves deeper into confusion. Lines like “What’s the hypothesis” show that the speaker is attempting to approach their mental state rationally, almost scientifically, as if trying to distance themselves from the emotional chaos. But this rational approach only highlights the impossibility of escaping the mental fog. The mention of “coordinance,” a term usually associated with order and direction, shows the speaker’s desperate need for a way to navigate through their own mind. Yet, despite all this searching, the answer remains elusive. The poem ends as it began, with the speaker still lost, unable to find the mental clarity they so desperately seek.
The sense of being trapped within their own judgment is also evident in the language the speaker uses. Terms like “dirty names,” “kink,” and “scum” show how the speaker feels disgusted by their own thoughts. They’re not just struggling with their past actions but with the very nature of their thoughts, rejecting them as something inherently wrong. There’s an internal battle here—not just between the past and present, but between the speaker’s sense of self and the shame they carry. “Who have I become?” expresses the confusion and loss of identity that comes from constantly dissecting oneself. The speaker doesn’t just regret past mistakes—they regret the thoughts that led to those mistakes, and they cannot separate themselves from the judgment of those thoughts.
The poem doesn’t offer any easy answers. It doesn’t provide a way out of the maze of thoughts that the speaker is trapped in. Instead, it invites the reader into the same disorienting space, where clarity is just out of reach, and every attempt to understand or make sense of things only adds to the confusion. The struggle is raw, unrelenting, and uncomfortable, but it’s also deeply human. It’s about living in a mind that constantly judges itself, where every thought and memory is scrutinized to the point of self-loathing.
At its core, “Mangled” captures the inner turmoil of trying to reconcile one’s thoughts with one’s sense of self. The speaker is caught in a cycle of judgment, unable to escape the mental chaos that clouds their perception. There’s no easy way out, and that’s what makes the poem so effective—it doesn’t offer comfort or resolution. Instead, it pulls the reader into the raw, messy, uncomfortable reality of living with a mind that refuses to stop questioning, analyzing, and criticizing itself. The poem is a reflection of the struggle that many of us face, trying to make sense of our thoughts and memories without getting lost in the judgment we place on them.
Mangled ~Poetry
Translucent memories
Stained by the wrought
Mangled by
The thought
What I thought
About the thoughts
To taunt my brain
Memories untamed
No human should have this kind of sprain in their brain
Shame!
Shame!!
Shame!!!
‘Cause sensations knows my name from past games
Mind calling self all kinds of dirty names
Wrapped in kink
Scum and cum
Who have I become
I’ve dozed into this trap
It’s a sadistic handicap
Please wake me from this memory gap
What’s the coordinance?
I’m trying to find my way back to consciousness
What’s the hypothesis
~~~
Mangled by the thought
What I thought about the thoughts
What’s your coordinance?
Unquenchable ~ Poetry
A force fervent and robust
A fleeting touch a longing thrust
It dances wild it seeks it must
Through hearts and minds it leaves its dust
The wind whispers a soft deceptive gust
Forces me to succumb or combust
It’s just…
Take me or I might bust!
A complex energy of love and trust
Don’t let me rust
Tangled in touch
Can’t get enough
An unspoken lie
Mangled in lust
And leaves me
Hungry
Featured Author ~ Tyler Knot Gregson
“l love you, in ways you’ve never been loved, for reasons you’ve never been told, for longer than you think you deserved and with more than you will ever know existed inside me.”
– Tyler Knott Gregson- Chaser of the Light
Foolish ~ Poetry
Such a foolish thing
To love so blindly
Tryna’ find me
In your thoughts
And not even A.I
Can find me in your cloud
Foolish
Gratitude ~ Poetry
Beaming like the sun
Sprouting like a tree
The best part is everyday I wake up
God waters me
My process is neverending
And I will probably never be done
But everyday I wake up
I thank God for who I’ve become
Writer Unknown – Poetry
When she walks past the mirror
She does not look
And she does not want to be seen
mentalnotes1 