Post Traumatic Stress (Poetry)

I stand in front of you on this stage with a smiling mask.
But give me a minute or two to unmask and ask,
What do you really know about post-traumatic stress?

Day in day out weight is oppressed in the hearts and chests.
Very little does one see his/her life as a personal success.
For adrenaline, many involve a life that becomes transgress.

Through time natural facial expressions and habitats change.
Insomnia becomes normal, even the bags under the eyes become rearrange.
Our moods are irritable, anxious, and estranged.

Nightmares, flashbacks, and reminders limits activities,
Fireworks are always ruining summer festivities.
Very rare can one ever overcome this particular sensitivity.

Frustrations and sympathy grows for the high number of suicides,
There are more of us alive than those who gave up on their lives.
The ones who are still breathing, still feel invisible to the world.

Many try to use humor and sex to cover up the actual feelings.
Instead of opening up, solitude is actual a comfort to hide the dealings,
Of strangers and family who fears the lack of knowledge and adaptations.

Truth, there is the misconception of medications, very rare do they improve,
Drugs and alcohol are the first things those who only want self-help turn to.
Natural healing & therapy is best suited for those who are desperate to move on.

We may look strong on the outside due to the imprinted war face,
Nobody ever takes the consideration, deep down fragile as a pencil case.
Doesn’t mean the survivors are more dangerous than a terrorist.

When it comes to the survivors of post-traumatic stress,
Majority find exceptions in the imperfections, a new strength.
That is the most important factor in an unfamiliar multitude force.

2014©H.M. Gautsch

Still Dreaming (Poetry)

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Dreams out weigh my harsh reality
From my visions,
I wish you could see me in my sleep
So why would I want to wake up
To the ugliness of this world, fuck.
I’d rather stay under my rock
and keep delivering you this art hop.
“Cold World, High Hopes”
My definition, my motto.
I don’t always think before I talk,
But I surely think before I write,
Pen, Pencil, or Chalk
Learning my goals, morals,
and ethical virtue as I draw words
that form into my walks.
Words never come empty though
Some come with pure emotions,
Causing my bipolar expressions,
Irony is this shit keeps me stable
When people try to tear me down
When people try to turn my existence
into a fable,
I reverse the power to my persona
and remain able to keep dreaming.

2015 Copyright @ H.M. Gautsch

 

Navigating with a Notepad (Poetry)

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I’m trying to sit in the dark,
Late at night, staring out at the stars,
While sorting out my thoughts to write another poem.
Yeah, it might sound like the same old song,
But the pen and pad are the only things I can depend on.
It’s hard to have family and friends
Who can’t see or understand any of my social problems.
Some days I’m quietly awkward,
Other days I’m rudely obnoxious.
Maybe I’m a good actor,
Or maybe, I just don’t know how to act.
I am sure people think I am just playin’
To get money from the government,
But if I was doing that,
I’d apply for other assistance,
Along with food stamps.
I don’t want any of that,
I just want to live peacefully before I’m dead.
If I was faking my problems,
I wouldn’t have prolonged my issues from 2009,
Or even longer, like…

…my whole life…

…I wouldn’t still be walking that fragile line.
People just rather be blind,
To the facts of my short term memory distortion,
My insomnia, and the voices in my conscience,
That transfers through my body, to my fingers,
To the pen to form these words on this notepad.
In my eyes, I don’t see insecurity with my vulnerability.
If that was the case, I wouldn’t have the courage to share my story.
So what if I am a bit sensitive or even a bit pensive,
My depression and anxiety has always been repetitive,
I’ve accepted these anti-socializing traits,
The best of this world’s artists can relate.
I am sure other kids can to, but too scared to navigate,
And get lost deep inside their heart,
Emotions, and words to collate, in return create this art.
So if you’re afraid, just turn to my unique poetic philosophy, Descartes.
I wish people would stop being concern about how the world looks at me,
I’ll be the executive producer of my decisions and consequence,
Revealing the tattoos and scars that live deep down in my heart.
It’s my skin. It’s my ill mind. It’s my life.

So I’ll keep dishing these poems like my pen is a spoon or fork,
Because it seems it’s the only therapy that truly works.
So if you think I am writing to ask for help,
I’m not. By the time this poem ends, I’ll be my better self.
I just want to thank you for reading and listening,
To my rhymes, my provocative conditioning.

2014 ©H.M. Gautsch

Sonnet #1 (Poetry)

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If not joy, it shall be of annoyance,

With the circular notion of this life.

Like at a world’s end on a voyage,

I’ll die without the title of one’s wife.

But I rather have fortune through trials,

Rather than fake value grown on trees.

I’ve walked in these shoes, a million miles.

I’ve come too far to return the old me.

If not annoyance, it shall be of joy,

With the addition of motivation.

When I look back at every girl and boy,

That I’ve influenced out of temptation.

So I’ll continue to polish and shine,

I refuse to give up on confinement.

©H.M. Gautsch

Focused (Poetry)

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It’s that time again.
Another banger, another rhyme,
Another lesson in this poetic mind.
With that hip-hop vibe.
I’m focused a hundred percent,
Like I’m popping in that Ritalin.
No, really, I’m popping that Ritalin.
To tame my A.D.D. habits.
Because God forbid if I ever get side tracked
Once again.
This is my calling.
To empower my weaknesses with my strengths.
I’m focused.
This is my moment.
I’m focused.
This is your only notice.
Artists respect this.
Because I know how to keep it trill,
Respectful and true.
I speak what’s on my mind,
But first, I listen, comprehend,
And understand other walk of lives before I stand.
Before I speak my views and experiences.
This is my business.
If I haven’t walked in your shoes,
I keep it hush; I don’t act like I know.
Because I don’t need to act a fool,
To fit in with any kind of crew.
I’m focused.
This is my moment.
I’m focused.
This is your only notice.
I keep it positive, I shine my own light.
I stay focused in my own fight.
I’m ready for the final round,
I’ll return to use my mixed martial arts exercise.
To squash those who want to criticize.
Because I am too focused.
To allow anyone to try to tell me how to live my life.
I am too focused to live any kind of lie.
It’s time to turn up the levels,
It’s time to maximize.
You can call me a pesticide.
I’m focused.
This is my moment.
I’m focused.
This is your only notice.
2014©H.M. Gautsch