Perfect storm. #autism – by Sonia Boué (reblog)

Perfect storm. #autism – by Sonia Boué (reblog)

Historically I’ve not often reblogged posts by other writers — in fact it’s probably only about 3 times in all the years. And that’s because I wanted the focus of this blog to be me. But now, with the “rebranding” and relaunch as My Autistic Dance I feel I want to expand what I publish here to include links to other posts that are insightful and illuminating, and principally about autism, such as this one by my dear friend Sonia.

The context for my poem Perfect storm is the research for my Arts Council Funded project – The Museum for Object Research. It isn’t about any one person or conversation, but more about my growing understanding of the ways in which I am disabled – despite being a competent human – by ingrained assumption and the double empathy bind.

Source: Read the whole post on The Other Side here

Autistic Rights, Not Autistic Wrongs

Autistic Rights, Not Autistic Wrongs

Hey Mrs Kennedy
There with your OBE
Your shiny charity?
You ain’t that much to me.

If you read what I wrote
You wanna make a note
Don’t sit up there and gloat
You gonna miss the boat.

See what I’m tellin’ you
Ain’t just my point of view
We’re more than one or two
Autistic through and through.

So listen when we say
Your spiel has had its day
We’re dissin’ ABA
Abuse is not okay.

We spotted Wakefield ties
And anti-vaccine lies
You hung out with those guys
Now that ain’t very wise.

We followed all the tracks
Led us to frauds and quacks
We’re threatened with attacks
But we got stacks of facts.

We offered you advice
We tried to play it nice
We thought that would suffice
Won’t make that error twice.

You think we’ve had enough?
You think we’re not so tough?
We live and breathe this stuff
Don’t want to call our bluff.

When you don’t give respect
When you try to deflect
And posture for effect
Twist truth and misdirect.

You pick on one of us
Insult but won’t discuss
You are superfluous
Not even worth the fuss.

You claim that you’re “aware”
But show that you don’t care
We will be treated fair
In schools and everywhere.

To mimic NT poise
Under duress destroys
Autistic girls and boys.
We’re not your little toys.

Don’t want our names in lights
Or fancy ballgown nights
One goal in all our fights
We want autistic rights.

Lost in Translation

Lost in Translation

My language pains me.
I long for facility
To spin metaphor.

But I’m too literal.

Even when I write in terms of imagery my words on the page are simply descriptive of what is in my mind. I listen to songs like I am the Walrus with a strong sense of jealousy.

How I would love to be able to take that step beyond my literal translations to that fantastic realm where instead of painting what I see I am able to conjure whole new worlds.

It makes me feel that I have no imagination; that everything I think of is derivative. I am only able to assemble montages of what already exists, apply what others have invented.

My words disappoint me because they are such a pale imitation of the richness and depth of my thoughts. They are static, a snapshot of the mental maelstrom giving no clue as to the turbulence within.

Disengaged

Disengaged

My representative
Is a faceless man in a suit.
I didn’t vote for him,
I don’t support his party,
Or their policies.

So I sit here wondering
How can I feel represented?
How can my voice be heard?
Who looks out for my interests?
Who understands my life?

Every cross I mark on a ballot
Falls unseen
Into a bottomless pit.
No sound, no ripples
As if it never existed.

Nightmare

Nightmare

She took her leave in dead of night
And silently slipped out the door,
Then by the silver full moon’s light
Retraced the path she took before.

The trees reached up so black and bare,
Frost crackled, glistened under foot.
From bloodless lips the misty air
Of breath hung still and dark as soot.

Deep in her eyes red sparks of light
Burned bright as embers in the ice
That formed her face. Her dreadful sight
Would still one’s heart, exact her price

From those who caught a fleeting glance
Beneath the veil she wore by day
While through the mortal world she’d dance
To watch unseen our artless play.

Raven-clad in cloak of sable
She craves the blood that brings relief.
Nightmare from an ancient fable
Long lost to memory and belief.