Depression Inspired Poetry

A Compilation of Poems
by Paul Cuclis

Note* I have organized these from least depressive to most. None of the poems should be offensive, but some may be disconcerting. Some material may also repeat, as I wrote these over the course of a year and did not consider prior works.


Challenge

I stand upon a precipice,
gazing out at the awesome spectacle that is the future
My memories push and pull me along the ledge
Daring yet reluctant, they bade me forward before advising caution
Those darting whirring winds
conflicting in such twisted forms with a roar that deadens my ears

But my eyes remain unclouded,
And though I may not see the details of a too bright sun
I know in what general direction it may lay.
Passing brooding swamps that threaten to delay me
Rising above looming mountains I must climb
Reflecting off of the blissful fields I hope to one day cherish
My goal, as unyielding as time itself, will not die

The journey is in full sway,
And though the path may be treacherous,
I meet the changing breeze and inhale its energy with exhilaration
And though I stand upon the brink of failure,
always balancing on a frail ledge of rock,
I know this is part of what makes me relevant
For what is height without the threat of falling?

I refuse to crawl, nor even walk,
I shall run with all the determination and vivacity of youth
And though a stumble may derail me,
my momentum will push me to ever greater heights
And not till I reach that rising sun will I be satisfied
World… I challenge you.



In the Lands Across the Sea


In a village called Curiosity
In the forgotten lands across the sea
The crops were poor, the work was hard
Yet the villagers had no animosity
In a village called Curiosity

The villagers had no animosity
In that land of sands across the sea
Because they toiled day and night
And in their weariness, experience' complacency
The villagers had no animosity

While experiencing this complacency
In the demanding sands across the sea
A child was born in a humble home
And a boy named Same came to be
While experiencing this complacency

When the boy named Same came to be
In the shifting sands across the sea
He brought forth power to make the rain
And the village rejoiced in ecstasy
When the boy named Same came to be

As the village rejoiced in ecstasy
In the dwindling sands across the sea
The crops grew thick, of barley and wheat
And the villagers ate with glee
As the village rejoiced in ecstasy

Once the villagers ate with glee
In the verdant hills across the sea
They grew to be sad, fat, and weak
They no longer toiled in complacency
Once the villagers ate with glee

They no longer toiled in complacency
In the fresh green lands across the sea
And in their boredom, they learned greed
As they hoarded their crops selfishly
They no longer toiled in complacency

As they hoarded their crops selfishly
In the rotted lands across the sea
The village was tainted with discontent
And villagers warred for superiority
As they hoarded their crops selfishly

While warring for superiority
In the hostile meadows across the sea
The boy named Same begged for complacency
But no one listened to his heartfelt plea
While warring for superiority

When no one listened to his plea
In the ignorant lands across the sea
The boy named Same died that day
And the pouring rains stopped instantly
When no one listened to his plea

As the pouring rains stopped instantly
In this violent land across the sea
The crops did wither away to dust
And the villagers mourned their idiocy
As the pouring rains stopped instantly

As the villagers mourned their idiocy
In this harshest of land across the sea
Their now-soft hands could not toil the soil
And the sands destroyed all ceaselessly
As the villagers mourned their idiocy

The sands destroyed all ceaselessly
In the lonely lands across the sea
In the empty hills and barren fields
There once was a village called Curiosity
The sands destroyed all ceaselessly



Memorial

on the ides of march, the martyred lay, upon thy hearth, in cell of clay
for these were the ones, remembered long hence
for sacrifice, value, and fearless tenants
for love of life, and bravery towards death
of love of war, and envy towards peace
yet on the ides of march, these warriors face solitude
for in clay coffins no virtue deludes, and a soul must conclude
that an idea may be worth dying for, but much more worth living for



Sleep's allure

sleep, is there an action or state more profoundly evident of the mind's magnificence?
in such vulnerable stupor, we stumble into the realm of impossibles
such that laws of man and physics alike cannot impinge upon our imaginings
hopes, fears, loves, and loves lost, actualize with all the potency of our waking lives
before slipping back into its ephemeral state
intangible, ungraspable, but present all the same



Insomniacs Paranoia

Darkness is a pervading source of my reality
It encroaches upon my every boundary,
Pressing in some places, subtly, while coldly piercing in others
the only source of light is the process of thought
the mental leaps that allow me to conceptualize all that is not darkness
matter or the idea of matter which is like a defining line amongst the black abyss

yet my eyes grow weary of watching,
my soul grows heavy with the dust of tedium
i cannot doggedly keep up this pace forever
like all things I will fail against time
heavy lidded eyes will shut against all intention
and sleep will come again

Born from anew the following morning
my fears will have washed away
Chemical imbalances I'll say
Or paranoia brought on by stress
But I know now with inescapable certainty
That to sleep is to die

For what is not in motion, is out of space and time
And as I sleep I cannot comprehend either
thus the world turns without me
And in my sleeping state all that is me will cease
and only cruel mockery of what I am at days end
Stretches forth with hesitation to meet the morning sun

I shall grow much during my waking life,
especially under cruel tutelage of the night
And from child of morn, till elder of dusk, shall I remain whole
till sleep claims who I am, and sums my life, and all past lives as reference
Always towards the future
Always towards the unknown

A tree discards its precious leaves to the soil,
which rot away in slow agony
to nurture the tree that bears the new leaves
Some may say self-sufficient
But I say a parasite unto itself
With the future insatiably feeding on the present that will be past



Isolation

An island I occupy
In a sea of eyes and mouths
Open and spewing my inadequacies

The ticking hands
reach for my tongue
to strip me of my desperate pleas

I'm starving now
Life's blood is gone
Loneliness has brought me to my knees



Innocence no longer

Its hand reaches down my throat,
A sinking, deadening abyss,
My heart beats with difficulty,
As if surrounded by nails
Piercing foulness infects my life's blood.
As the hand clenches around my lungs,
I inwardly struggle for air.
My mask displays nothing,
As I suffocate within the confines of my own mind.

I hear a child crying in the darkness,
An honest, pitiable wail.
Blinded, it lays helpless.
Not understanding, but fully feeling,
The agony of discontent.

I cradle and coo,
Yet the crying does not cease
Until cruel fate snuffs it out
And dead and unknowing eyes,
Stare up in an unfeeling bliss.
And I know envy,
And pity,
And shame