Free use image by Fotografirende on Pexels
walker
blue, rectangular
assisting, extending, supporting
supportive mobility-aid standing shiny
staring, pitying, patronizing
overt, undignified
stigmatizer
~cie the feeble-minded cripple~
If all you wanted was the poem, then step on out, 'cause we're done here.
If, on the other hand, you want to stick around for the notes, then be warned that you do so at your peril.
And now it's time for the obligatory
CONTENT WARNING
Buckle up, Bitches, it's about to get sarcastic and sweary.
Before anyone jumps down my throat, please note that my chosen signature is both sarcasm and illustrative of how people treat me because my back is fucked up and using an upright walker, which I bought with money from the first stimulus check because fuck if Medicaid is going to pay for it, is, apparently, a sign that I'm not only physically broken but feeble-minded as well.
When I stroll along using my walker, people treat me like an idiot child, giving me attagirls, telling me I'm an "inspiration" (for what? Walking down the fucking street?), and generally talking down to me as if I have the I.Q. of peanut butter. I seriously resent this because I know for a fact that I have the I.Q. of peanut butter AND jelly.
I guess it would be nobler if I was still hobbling around dragging my right leg behind me and leaning up against signposts as my back screams in protest and shoots lightning bolts down my leg. At least then I'd be "just a little slow" rather than an obviously incapacitated feeb.
Again, I'm expressing how people treat me for, of all fucking things, using a god damn upright walker. I loved my walker when I first got it because I could truck along for more than a quarter-mile before it became too painful and I had to head home. I thought the walker was kind of pretty too with its sparkly blue finish. At this point, I hate the fucking thing and it's hard to convince me to leave my house.
People using assistive devices aren't subnormal defectives, and we don't want to hear about how we're "so inspiring." We just want to be able to get around, FFS.
By the way, in the United States, assistive devices such as my walker, and, yes, glasses, are seen as luxuries. You want to be able to get around and to see clearly while doing so, you lazy, impoverished shitbag? Get fucked.
That's a wrap on this rant.
April PAD Challenge
Day 7: Villain poem
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-april-pad-challenge-day-7
The walker and the people making me not want to use it are both the villains in this drama.
Day 8: Metaphor poem
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-april-pad-challenge-day-8
The walker is a metaphor for the condescension that I experience because of my disability.
D'Verse Poets
Diamante
https://dversepoets.com/2021/04/06/dverse-poetics-flipping-meanings/
Line 1: Noun or subject
Line 2: Two Adjectives describing the first noun/subject
Line 3: Three -ing words describing the first noun/subject
Line 4: Four words: two about the first noun/subject, two about the antonym/synonym
Line 5: Three -ing words about the antonym/synonym
Line 6: Two adjectives describing the antonym/synonym
Line 7: Antonym/synonym for the subject
I don't know if I achieved perfection with this poem, but like me, it is what it is.
Mindlovemisery's MenageriePhoto Challenge
I never thought that my health would be this compromised in my mid-fifties. I thought I'd work until I was 70 and then go traveling. My endocrine problems and physical injuries plus my overall poverty bitch-slapped that pipe dream into the abyss hard and fast.
NaPoWriMo:
Day 7: Shadorma or Fibonacci
I didn't do this.
Day 8: Spoon River Anthology
I didn't do this either.
Weekly Scribblings
Beloved Companions
The walker is my companion, and I really loved it at first. At this point, it's a love-hate relationship without much love.
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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Dedicating this poem to Per Ohlin (16 January 1969 - 8 April 1991).
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