A place in my mind

Sorrow’s Song

Voices of torment shed your soul

venture out into the open

play your petty role?

Bed of maggots crawling

never think of falling

off the drinkers/dreamers ban(d)wagon

constant commentary nagging!

Lost in a lonely world of real

always forced to feel

the poles of my pain.

 

　

Hallucinations

shadows glancing through the walls

a thousand faces

I see them all

emerge from their hiding places…

an animal, a human, they speak to me;

an alien with two heads, these things do I see?

what is wrong with me?

why must this be?

a corpse that sleeps in my bed

constant commentary in my head…

voices…voice’s …

where are my choices?…

always telling… always yelling…

what kind of peace can I find?…

when these psychosis’ torture my weary mind?

 

Escape To Harmony

Blood-red soil my skin

My temper running thin

Against myself I cry

“I secretly long to die”

Say’s a voice in my head

As I lay in my bed

Tortured by thinking

Commentary linking

Me to this unruly madness.

Why do you say such a thing?

There is no peace that this can bring!

I search for a cure there is no doubt…

For suicide is not an option you see…

For me, it is not a way out!

 

　

anxiety

fidgeting, pacing

can’t sit still

body not responding to

my will.

shaking, facing

madness fills

sadness, obsessive

energy kills

my every moment of peace.

 

　

　

Rite Of Passage 1

In silence she (the once homeless) sway

Mooring no longer, but never compelled to fade away.

Her suffering betrayed her temporal soul,

They hoisted the coffin, her highfalutin role.

Why should she shovel more than someone else?

What was she mourning?

That child I was left this morning.

 

　

Rite Of Passage 2

squatting with every spoonful of dirt

a human heart rippled from its childhood into

an extension to the “mature” I flirt,

Orion’s condone…Buddha’s funny-bone…

what else is there left to do?…

but arise from my tomb

adulthood is there any room?…

for my rite of passage?

 

　

Untitled

Oh aren’t we all but a

Lilly under a willow tree

morning/mourning now

awakening

as we pluck a petal from

the flower of life?

 

Untitled

sea-billow’s dancing

in a pool

of my mind.

 

　

　

Buddha’s funny-bone

Orion look’s upon me,

as the Siren’s sweet song fills my soul,

tied to a mast of my own destruction, I can not see

an escape from this role.

The luring sing of a better place

far away from suffering and ;pain

they promise a happier time than what I face;

but their musings are just a feign.

For those Siren’s they can not offer you,

Anything greater than life can do,

Their song is a promise one must not take;

distress is temporary, suicide is a permanent mistake.

 

 

　

Empty

Shut up

in the lonely realm of my mind

seeing nothing but black.

　

Dark Demons

mere memories to haunt me

night and day.

Inner Hell

cause and effect, cause and effect

these barbwire fences which I set up now entrap me.

Swimming

in a sea of gray,

drowning in despair I say…

“Will tomorrow’s sun rise?”

I don’t care--I won’t be there.

Fading in the night no one ever heard my cries

My stagnant soul lies still--

A vampire goes for the kill--

Draining my blood out

Stealing the very essence of my being no doubt!

Death becomes I, and I her

Together one in the same, together again--

Nothing is everything--everything nothing

I don’t have to be alone anymore!

I couldn’t accept my past--

Release at last.

I finally found a peace in hell--

Freedom in my prison cell--

----------Empty.--------

 

　

space gives birth to light.    

    Trudging out of hell’s black depths and at last emerging to see the shining world, one’s definitive awakening (new sight/insight) perhaps will be indemnity enough for having endured this depression/angst. Out of sheer strength, one survives the inexplicable agony of ones metamorphosis (unlike Gregor Samsa) and can finally emerge to live Authentically as--as the Existentialist’s would have had it-- a “Dasein”. To be a “Dasein” is to be one with Gods love and thus with the Universe.

    The “Dasein” knows himself, his peers, and his environment in an intimate and loving manner. He is not afraid of Being nor death because he has faced the possibility of non-Being, confronted it, made peace with it, and thus made peace with the preciousness and fragility of life.

   The “Dasein” believes in God as the highest sanctity of Reason and Love as the greatest acting force of mankind. God is Love and God is Reason (ultimately). The “Dasein” finds comfort in knowing that his environment is concrete but his perceptions (and thus mind/faculties of Reason) are a “Gestalt”. The latter gives vitality to this human “Thinker” because he can thus cast bridges over time and space and enter into the unknown realms of the “possible".

 

“The little boy that cried wolf”

“Help! Help! Wolf! Wolf!”

I feel my world crashing down;

A lonely self, a loathsome frown.

The white snows of the sheep

Cold as ice,

In ruins I sit in a heap,

Nothing will suffice.

“I believe he has been deceiving us,” they said;

As my sheep are slowly fed

To the wolf at hand,

How do I make a stand?

“If he calls again let us pay no attention…”

staying in my terminal detention,

“we shall not come back”

I wear a shroud of bitter black.

Mental-pain,
as I go insane,

There’s no one left to care;

World, now alone, you simply are no longer there.

　

Madman

I mumble like a fool

As my thinking betrays (the very essence of) my soul;

I laugh as hell seizes my mind;

Insanity becomes the rule,

I now play an almost unnamable role.

Experiencing death by death I find,

Faceless, thoughtless, heartless being

Dying quietly inside now seeing

A mental state called abnormal madness

A guise of encompassed sadness,

This voracious beast upon me feasts,

Tyrant knowing…sower sowing

His vicious seeds; what’s this that he needs?…

Sorrow that blocks my eyes

Trying to get a word in edgewise…

How do I vanquish this monster?

Knowing this in my maturing years

Putting aside my childhood fears

For they must pass, I feel as “Puck” a worthless ass…

Now approaching me is a shadow of a friend,

A messenger of hope;

He dissolves in a moment…lost around the bend…

The cruelty of gravity, knowing I can not cope…

No one can save me but me…

Tortured by mimic and commentary…

Suicides language a calm descend,

Must I live on in the end?

Madman.