Poems, some with audio/video recordings by their authors:
- My Hidden Tangent
- A Doorway to Peace
- The Night Beckons
- Rearranging the Furniture
I am the Originator of a River
The Redwood Tree
- Inertia’s Best Friend
Chaos & the Quiet
Autistically Me by Autistic Hippy
ADHD Haiku by Mike Barrett
My Hidden Tangent
For me, what is unique,
my hidden tangent,
is how I see autistically.
It is not one single thing but
riches and resources.
For all of life, it flows through me.
A Doorway to Peace
My garden is a doorway,
into my inky stillness,
my path to peace within.
It is night time in my garden.
I rest there wakeful and enchanted
by the vast starry landscape
within and without.
The Night Beckons
A leafy silhouetted gap in the treescape frames my view.
It is a window through the landscape of my soul.
I am humbled by its simple beauty.
Night time and the earth sleeps,
breathes life and growth through all that allow it,
soothing, anchoring and expanding us from within.
In its stillness, I feel peaceful.
I glance right – my illuminated path twinkles like the stars.
Steeped in earth’s mystery, I must await its secrets
for they will yield in time.
Now, I invite the earth inwards,
breathing in ease to match the rhythm of my being.
Mine is a gentle path forwards.
Rearranging the Furniture
My inner and my outer worlds are moving,
reclaiming and restoring my nature.
The reconfiguring of my internal furniture is visible,
reflected in my everyday reality.
Though welcome, my expansion is disruptive,
proprioceptive confusion reigns.
There is pressure to make space from within,
but mine is now a gentle path forwards,
and I will set my pace.
I am the Originator of a River
I am the originator of a river
Body spent and broken
I lay my bones and fleshy self
On earthy ground
And allow the weeds and wonderful natural things to take me over
They hold me close and piece by piece
I am simply the latest addition to this alive mineral composition
The breaking apart and breaking down
Releases everything of feeling
mingled with the
Warmth and moisture
Tearful riverlets begins the beginning
I am the originator of your rivers
The life-giving water of your land, loves and livelyhood
I am the mother
And I give of myself time and time again
And so the cycle goes
Enriched with each new addition
Of which you will join some day
The Redwood Tree
Hello, said the tree.
Thank you for planting me.
I think I’m going to like it here.
I love trees, said the little boy.
And I love you.
You are a special tree.
All trees are special, said the sapling.
I will always be here
Watching over you and your children’s children.
How long can you stay here? How old will you get?
Will you live for ever and ever?
His joy made the birds sing and the sun glow.
As long as I live, said the Redwood,
I will be your friend.
1000, 2000, 3000 years. Or more.
Wow! gasped the child, in awe.
I will never, ever hurt you.
I will always protect you.
And I you, said the tree.
I will clean the air you breath and nurture your world.
I will protect all of nature beneath my arms.
I cannot imagine a world without trees.
Thought the young boy to himself.
As he wandered home through the life-giving forest.
Hello, said the tree.
Look how strong I’ve grown already!
I knew I’d love it here.
I am so proud of you said the young man.
You never ask for anything.
Yet, you give so much.
Will you teach your children,
And your grandchildren, and their’s too,
To always protect me and love me?
Of course I will, said the father.
They will all know how we cannot exist without trees.
They will love and respect you, as I have always done.
Hello young lady. I am so sorry for your loss.
He was a good man your father.
We knew each other well.
Thank you dear tree, she sobbed.
As she let fall the ashes to the rich earth at her feet.
My father did love the trees so.
Hello, said the tree, to the new family beneath his arms.
Thank you for coming to celebrate my 2000 years in this forest.
I still remember the day your ancestor first helped me take root.
You are such a beautiful tree. Said a young boy.
You protect us and give us life.
In return we will always protect you.
Hello said the ancient tree, to the tearful human below.
Why are your people cutting down and killing my kin?
Are we too many?
I do not want this, said the young girl.
But my family have no money for food.
We must sell the wood to live.
But you cannot live without trees said the mighty Redwood.
We are the lungs of the earth.
We have always been here, watching over you. Breathing for you.
We have no choice said the girl.
Her head hung in shame.
Her eyes misty, looking down at her feet.
The tree paused.
But I have stood for 3000 years.
I have protected you. I am home to the animals. They need me too.
The human stood in silence.
Her eyes still trying to focus on the scarred forest floor.
Ravaged. In pain. Dying.
Fire can not burn me. Disease cannot harm me.
Insects cannot destroy me. Floods cannot drown me.
Only you can cut me down.
Yes, said the man.
You are the only tree left.
But my people need to eat and keep warm.
But what will you do, said the last tree on earth.
When I am gone.
The tree breathed deeply. In. Out.
I know, said the man.
As he started up the chainsaw.
Goodbye tree. I am truly sorry.
Goodbye, said the tree,
I liked it here.
I wish I could have stayed.
Mask by Jacob Wordsmith
There’s a secret I’m too scared to tell
Maybe my heart beats for boys as well
Maybe I hate how the mirror fails to show a female
Maybe I’m autistic and you missed it
But that’s my fault
There’s a mask tasked to halt questions of any class
This mask helps me breeze past any mass
And never be asked who is the real person here
A mask crafted with gold and fear because the news has made it clear
The threats I’d get if I loved a Ruth and a Roy
If I didn’t feel like I was a boy
If flapping my hands gave me joy
The different eyes I’d earn when you saw the lie burn
To the tune of Jim Carey saying “Smokin”
And even without violence I’m a freak or a token
So instead of being laid to waste I took my face and I lost it
Now I lie with the other monsters in the closet
But there’s no fear factor when you’re faced with an actor
There’s less pity and rage when the world is stage
With a script perfectly lipped without a word tripped or a line clipped
And you connected with the mask met at the door
Without it will you want to be my friend anymore
Maybe I’m weird or wrong or a bore
Those who’ve seen beneath adore but there are people who think I need to be cured
Because these are just silly teenage dreams
Or it’s a phase going on longer than it seems
Or it’s the vaccines
Why can’t it just be me
What you don’t see is my mask of gold has me blue
Because it’s exhausting pretending to be you
I collapse in bed because I’m through
Scared to start this all anew
And I want to show you who I am
Really I do
So I’m waiting for the day my nature isn’t chit-chatter
The day I’m not at risk of being battered
Or your image of me doesn’t shatter
I’ll tell you this secret
On the day it doesn’t matter
Inertia’s Best Friend
CW: Addiction, alcoholism
And I’m your best friend
Even after you walked away from me
And you said the story would end
In those drafty P.E halls
Actually why are they always so drafty
And you said words in your circle of chairs
Words that have me laughing
“I’ve been fighting addiction for so long now
And I’m finally starting to feel free”
You have no concept of prison
Because freedom is me
Call yourself well
I call you unhinged
Call me a prick
But I’m a syringe
I’m every slurp sniff and slit
That gives reality a twinge
Because I am Inertia
I’m your best friend
I’m the choice between the quality and the quantity of life
Before life’s end
I was there when nothing was by your side
So I have to voice my concerns
Because reality is so dull
And nothing is being popped injected or burned
There’s a word for that and it’s masochism
Because life is just designed to be crappy
So I’m going to ask you what any best friend would
Don’t you want to be happy
Do you remember the feeling
The first time you did just a little too much
And do you remember that feeling
That sensation that goes beyond touch
And you can hate me for everything that I’ve given you
You can hate me for all this flirting
But being clean is so neat
Wouldn’t you rather be dirty
And I get what you’re trying to do
I understand what you’re seeking
But your plan has a fatal flaw you’re not acknowledging
You don’t have it in you to beat me
You say you’re going to win
But I always do
Because you forget you’re me
You forget that I’m you
So those sobriety chips
I’m going to eat them and shit them out my fucking end
Because you’re nothing without me
You are nothing but my best friend
Chaos & The Quiet by Eve Reiland
I stand here barefoot on carpet, the fiber of comfort and home pressed into my soles.
My roommate,The Quiet, stands with me.
We watch branches and leaves swing through a wet window.
The Quiet doesn’t echo the cacophony in my mind.
Instead it’s a friend and wraps me in a swathe of emptiness
like a blanket.
It provides comfort in fear,
and its silence feels like a threadbare and button-eyed love
hugged fierce in the dark.
It comforts more than honeyed chamomile
and says absolutely nothing when I need it the most.
The Quiet is never jealous when I return home.
It doesn’t chide that I stink of Chaos
and then shame me for where I’ve been.
solitude is always offered
and I’m reminded this is where I belong.
No matter what, I can always be here
and seek peace from the constant crackle of the storm.
Oh, but I love to be drunk with Chaos.
It’s scented with Life.
Rebellion of The Quiet can be delicious and decadent.
The body-high incredible when saturated with voice,
intoxicated with vibration
and drenched in indiscriminate light.
And that’s not enough.
My skin seeks what it can’t always have, human touch.
It need be nothing more grandiose than a pressed-cheek hello
and honest hug.
Even a sincere handshake will do — that brief, warm connection to real life.
A moment of humanity.
Damn, I’m alive. To hell with The Quiet and bring on the noise.
I fight Chaos. I fight pain.
I rage against the invisible and stand emboldened again
Welcome me into the world.
Your bumping, thumping, chiming, beeping, clicking
I want to hear your chatter, songs, and curse.
Light me up with a message flash, photosnap, headlight swerve,
blinking streaking electronic billboard,
streetlight and spotlight.
Share with me the synchronicity of community.
I want to know your vibe and feel your heart.
Let’s dance. Let’s play. Let’s read our words.
Smack the table. Ring the bell. Roar and applause.
Conversation overlapping conversation.
It doesn’t matter that the commotion shorts my wiring.
Like an addict, my brain’s dependent and I need more.
More of you. More of this. Give me decadence.
Give me decadence until my head explodes
and knees smack the floor
Let’s overindulge until I Shake, Rattle and Hum
a staccato inconsistent to tunes Bono has sung.
Let me feel alive completely — this one moment
full. sensory. integration.
I’m going to do this until Chaos and rebellion fry my mind.
Even then, I’ll be unapologetic when
Writhe and Agony arrive.
With my unrepentant soul spent,
I will seek The Quiet, my mistress of Silence,
to love me healthy
so I can flirt with Chaos again.
Them vs Us by Anne Doran
Them vs Us:
For years, as long as I remember,
I felt I was different,
Weird, alien, unique and an oddity.
There were many times when I was happy to be different.
I never connected with dresses,
Felt foreign in their wearing.
I made my own mould,
And shaped my own path and journey,
Each time having to change and build the new road, brick by brick,
The way has been no yellow brick road,
No magic way in sight.
Many stumbling block lay before me,
Shame, guilt and loss;
Shame is not a currency I buy into,
I’m instantly felt othered,
And alone in this uncomfortable cloak of difference.
I had to tweak the apron strings,
That kept me living in the past,
And not allowing me to be grounded in the present.
Finally stopping the unhealthy cycles –
Instead now of encouraging my eyes and heart open wide
Creating my tribes and collectives that support my recovery
Creating my own chain of defense,
And now to embrace my uniqueness as a positive move,
To allow myself to be seen as the creative I always was,
I just needed to be invisible for a time,
As it was safer but now,
I can open my rainbow coloured wings,
And I can soar and fly towards the light of hope.
The Plant of Progress
There are seeds in the winds of the planet
of a plant that could alter its face,
but on reaching their marked destination
very few find a suitable place.
Some are crushed on the spot where they landed
till the life disappears from the germs,
and instead of providing a harvest
they provide a dessert for the worms.
Some are starting to grow in a garden
or a field with the soil that they need,
just to find themselves extirpated
by the ones who consider them weed.
Some are trimmed on a regular basis,
and they’re questioned, ‘Why can’t you just grow
like the other sweet flowers around you,
with some beautiful petals to show?’
While they may be abhorred or accepted,
they are never expected to thrive:
they’re regarded as plants with no purpose
which rely on largesse to survive.
One or two in a thousand may manage
to grow free into autism trees,
standing tall in the middle of nowhere
as convention’s revered escapees.
Each of these bears a fruit which is different
from all fruits that have yet been defined,
and their boughs dangle heavy and laden
as they benefit all of mankind.
Since I was small I’ve been befuddled
by people’s gullibility;
their lack of individual insight
seems quite irrational to me.
How could a simple ad or poster
cause them to buy what they don’t need
or vote for candidates and parties
based on a slogan that they read?
What reason could there be for doing
what others do or wanting things
that others have, just like a puppet
moved by society’s apron strings?
Who with an ounce of education
would automatically condemn
all that is different and routinely
distinguish between us and them?
Why would one do what those in power
suggest without a single thought
of ethics and of consequences,
their basic morals set to nought?
But now I know why all around us
most people, as their deeds imply,
are easily manipulated:
they’re not autistic, that is why.
Wedges of wild geese in motion
noisily approach their known
destination near the ocean,
but the heron flies alone.
Wedges of mute swans have clustered,
still but for the monotone
beating of their wings, unflustered,
but the heron flies alone.
Birds and humans of a feather,
as biology has shown
many times, will flock together,
but the heron flies alone.
The curious young man was standing
at Nature’s workbench, made of pine,
as she described her many duties
and showed him an assembly line.
‘This is where I, without cessation,
produce the standard human brain
which I deliver with the body
and a short manual to explain.
‘But one in ten must be created
by hand, and that’s when I explore
new ways and try out new connections
that I have never tried before.
‘These function on a different level,
the brains with individual sights,
producing scientists and artists
and those who fight for human rights.’
‘Is there a manual for these then?’
the man enquired about her craft.
‘A manual?’ Nature snorted roughly
and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.
Content Advisory: Suicide, self-harm, eating disorder
CW: Suicide attempt
Twenty Pills had to be cleaned out
I could feel the sharp pains in my stomach never ending
Three doses later I was healed
The harm I did to my body was because of the monsters inside me their names are:
Paranoia he made me feel on edge
Empty she made me feel alone
Abandonment he made me fear losing everyone
Dissociation they made me question what is real
Anger made people fear me
Impulse put me in danger’s way
Suicide she put me here in hospital
I will forever be grateful for the doctors
I know now I am not alone and I am no monster I’m human
I have Borderline Personality Disorder I will not let the monsters become me
Love is a gift
Gratitude is a virtue
Braveness is an admirable quality to overcome fears
Time gives people the chance to understand
uniqueness and be open
Individuality is what makes a person
Love says: I figured out I don’t need to fit into society’s
expectations of what is normal. There is no shame for
me loving my life line my girlfriend.
Gratitude says: I’m lucky to have found someone who
loves me. My partner is a guy and he is my forever.
Time says: I am waiting for people to accept that I am
who I am. I am transgender and will not let people say
I am a freak I’m human and will give time for the
ignorant to see the real me
Individuality says: My chromosomes or hormones may
not match my physical traits or assumed gender. I will
not let anyone or medical professionals change me to
what people perceive me
Two spirit says: I’ve two energies in me.
Non-binary is beautiful. My feminine side may be
beauty but my masculine side makes me strong and
I’m proud of both energies.
LGBTI is normal
LGBTI is beautiful
LGBTI is individual
LGBTI has pride for our uniqueness and bravery to be
who we are
We will fight for our right to freedom
Sex is society’s way of love
But for people who don’t need that act for love
They see intimacy as cuddles near a warm fire
A movie and hot chocolate with
Sometimes being taken advantage of
You realize you don’t need to fit into society’s
way or acts of love
You go by your life rules
And forget society’s ways
Your heart guides you
And your gut gets you out
Of unwanted toxic relationships
Run as far as your heart guides you
Run to the person you love who accepts you
Fish or human
Friend or foe
I would give
Anything to be in the world
The beauty of the sea
One day or maybe a past life
I’ll be with the merfolk