Waiting’s Close Lover When –

Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave.”  – Rainer Maria Rilke
“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.” – Paulo Coelho
Dressing myself with Waiting’s robes
looking in the mirror at When
Finding thoughts that without warning
haunt and scare my lonely Then
Question the mistress Waiting, again
to the end of never, When?
Waiting she dances, holding me close
and calling her lover Then
Her music of chance and sultry moves
under the covers of patient When
A cruel lover Waiting plays with me
as I grow old with desire Then
Teasing from me my passing youth
called Waiting’s close lover When
First Published in Opinions of Eye
01182013

Un-circular Reasoning

“We are dying from overthinking. We are slowly killing ourselves by thinking about everything. Think. Think. Think. You can never trust the human mind anyway. It’s a death trap.” – Anthony Hopkins

media

I followed my thought,

I just knew it was true.
It led me down the way,
I loved it straight through.
When I arrived at what
I thought was the end,
it spun me around
to start over again.
So the circle continued,
long day after long day.
My thoughts ran me ragged
They were more than I could pay.
At that moment of decision
confused but now I know,
just because my thoughts lead me,
doesn’t mean I should go.

Also published in: Broowaha

11082011 

Imp – Making the best of your vile thoughts

“ ‘Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing.”
Welcome my dark intruder. Let me tell you about myself. An evil little imp I am, born in the refuse of evil thoughts amassed. Yawn. What awaits this beautiful horrid world today? I grow strong pushing these carts of petty human imaginations. Thinking with no care, they litter my world with debris of vacant, selfish, and wicked thoughts. The perverse thoughts are the best, they’re so malevolent. I love to share these with my friends, with glee showing those thoughts aglow with an undead life, delightful in green and yellow decomposition. I wander through your churches, finding the best pulsating cast off there. Their thoughts never disappear, though let go, they stick to the walls and ceilings of their abodes or float through the air in a stinking mist. My job, of which I am quite partial, is to pick through these thoughts. If humans could see the clutter of stinging stench bearing piles of vain and perverse thoughts they thought no one knew, perhaps they would think with more vigilance. No matter, I love them, collecting them for the fires that burn cold and brewing a thick stew that never satisfies the hungry, nor quenches the thirst of parched wayfarers. That is the end result of their foolish contemplations, dissatisfaction and endless wandering to the next exciting vanity. I take my leave now of your company, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Now until we meet again, go easy with those vile thoughts of yours, I grow tired of my chore (wink)! Party on my dear fellow, and be sure to let your mind get the best of you, be undisciplined with it as you like for I need a few more trinkets of pulsating collectibles to fulfill my impish delight.

Imp – Making the best of your vile thoughts

“ ‘Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing.”
Welcome my dark intruder. Let me tell you about myself. An evil little imp I am, born in the refuse of evil thoughts amassed. Yawn. What awaits this beautiful horrid world today? I grow strong pushing these carts of petty human imaginations. Thinking with no care, they litter my world with debris of vacant, selfish, and wicked thoughts. The perverse thoughts are the best, they’re so malevolent. I love to share these with my friends, with glee showing those thoughts aglow with an undead life, delightful in green and yellow decomposition. I wander through your churches, finding the best pulsating cast off there. Their thoughts never disappear, though let go, they stick to the walls and ceilings of their abodes or float through the air in a stinking mist. My job, of which I am quite partial, is to pick through these thoughts. If humans could see the clutter of stinging stench bearing piles of vain and perverse thoughts they thought no one knew, perhaps they would think with more vigilance. No matter, I love them, collecting them for the fires that burn cold and brewing a thick stew that never satisfies the hungry, nor quenches the thirst of parched wayfarers. That is the end result of their foolish contemplations, dissatisfaction and endless wandering to the next exciting vanity. I take my leave now of your company, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Now until we meet again, go easy with those vile thoughts of yours, I grow tired of my chore (wink)! Party on my dear fellow, and be sure to let your mind get the best of you, be undisciplined with it as you like for I need a few more trinkets of pulsating collectibles to fulfill my impish delight.

Diary of a Mad Man – Living with mental illness

“No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” ― Aristotle

sagennext

They said to me, “Walk!”. My feet wouldn’t move, frozen by the accident. Appendages that are normally useful, mobile, and independent, I drag them along, taking care that I don’t injure them. The accident, as I call it, was not an accident, but a purposeful intended act, inspired by lust and hate. What they did to me I cannot tell, the acts so horrific. Regardless of the details of their brutal incursion, what I was left with is a handicap, one of the mind, not the body. Having to make do with a shredded normality, crawling through my life, instead of walking, never able to run. What was taken for granted, now became a challenge for me. While others run, leap, climb, and move about with impunity to mental mobility. I must develop new ways, ways that hurt, ways that require intense concentration, intense discipline. Still they taunt me, “get up and walk”, “why can’t you just be like the rest of us”. They can’t see I’m disabled, bound by forces that were neither chosen, nor desired, but forced on me in a cruel and harsh manner.


My injury cannot be seen, my useless legs are a shattered self-esteem, a mind crippled from ever thinking in a sane manner again. Insanity, psychosis, visions, voices, nightmares, self-deprecating thoughts, and accusations invade my every waking moment. Perceptions of reality and fantasy mix together, making the deciphering of fact and fiction a huge effort in itself. All day, every day, I roll around in a mental wheelchair, like one with paralyzed legs, committed to implements of bothersome necessity. I watch the heads wag, “Tsk, tsk. Quit being a pansy, just get up and walk”. Damn it! Can’t you see I can’t freaking walk? Can’t you see that it takes me longer to do normal things? I must make preparations for the ordinary, that which you do without an effort takes me great pains to produce, to perform, to succeed.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’m a success and exceedingly happy, and in these I’ll continue, but the insensitivity of others upsets me. Refusing patience with, or acceptance of the fact, that I’m not like them. I cannot get up in the morning and be without fear, I cannot go into a crowd and relax, I cannot be in the dark. Paranoia haunts me, I sense conspiracies coming from everyone, from everything. Shame burns in me, flushing my cheeks at the least exposure of my faults or idiosyncrasies. My mind races with thousands of thoughts a minute, deep thoughts, all of them.

I ask for no special treatment, just for a bit of patience with me as you accompany me on my journey through this world. Please, not only with me, but with the many others afflicted in a like manner, be sure you understand that although the pain of mental illness is not visible, it does handicap us from doing things in a normal manner. Be patient with crazy people, we really are cool, even if it takes us awhile to work our way through the battlefields of life.

Also published in Broowaha

12282011 

Fear – Futility in interpreting thoughts

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” – Frank Herbert, Dune   

 

zastavki

Woke me up, your thoughts to see
nothing true, nothing real
only fear
I think what you think of me
nothing true,  nothing real,
only fear
I look around, your opinions to see
nothing true, nothing real
only fear
It keeps my mind from seeing me
nothing true, nothing real
only fear
I look behind, its you I see
nothing true, nothing real
only fear
Thoughts can no longer hold me
I can make them true, I can make them real
no fear.

Also published in Broowaha Magazine