I always knew You were not right in the head
.That is not how normal people act
None-the-less, I longed for your caress
I could understand
But you know me,
Who plays with fire to get burned.
I cherish the lunacy that resides in All of us.
Let’s “namaste” wild gods, thus:
My inner psycho master greets
The schizo deity inside of ye
We all have a part that is out of wack and unbalanced and rather than repressing and ignore it, I am trying to treasure it and acknowledging.
People with mental illnesses deserve to have relationships. For that they need understanding compassion from others.
I am not trying to make light of those conditions, specifically mentioned or any mental health issue. But this is me, acknowledging that we have a propensity to get there, to the same place some are at. By recognising it in myself, I recognise it in others and that puts me in a position of compassion, rather than judgement.
The process of writing poetry is fascinating. I have a considerable amount of stream of consciousness lines to work on and weave into a poem. Nonetheless, sometimes the flow does not come so I leave them aside. This poem came from a tag on instagram for the hashtag #youneverleft.
I love how free flow poetry works. One line pushes another and there you have it. You don’t really know where it will lead you to. In truth, the last lines came first and I built my poem from these pillars.
Just a reminder: no one but yourself can make your dreams come true. But this line just alludes to the fact, there was a wish that was never fulfilled. 👇
A dream-not of you
The rising shine of morning rays
Tickles the eyes, hatching for the day.
The first thought and memory that delineates my mental landscape
Are not yours, they are mine to gratify and celebrate.
Finally, I achieve peace.
No more worrying, “does he love me?!” The focus is, again, internal
The breaths and heartbeats make this poetry’s symphony.
Our story will remain stamped on my cells, the body’s journal,
For the learning does not die, it keeps on coming.
Forever ingrained in the patterns of the unconscious.
Then, I realise,
You have never left, never really withdrew,
That is because you never came
To make my dreams come true.
My poetry got wings, it landed in Edinburgh City
It’s cold, breezy and dark, it’s not, yet, even evening.
Where are these men with tartan skirts?
I want to bag their pipes, they want their bagpipes to be heard.
I want to see the Loch Ness erupt.
From swampy waters, undeterred.
So far it seems quite different, from where my spirit lives.
I’m reminded of this partition, when I need to pay any fees
And when listening to quirky accents, as Scottish people speak.
The modern toppled buildings, reminders of my previous life
Old structures elevate the neck, causing shimmers in the eye.
The novelty of all, that can be absorbed
Is captured by these optic nerves.
Be it windows, doors, graffiti.
Nothing here goes unobserved.
A new city tastes like the freshness
Of coffee smell on a morning rise.
As Nan Sheperd once said: “It’s a grand thing to get leave to live”,
So I’ll follow her advice.
I enjoy my holiday in the land of brave hearts.
Hearing kingfishers sing, as the moon makes her depart.
Edinburgh is a magical city and many birds sing through out the night!
This is why poetry and storytelling is so important! It helps us understand its healing powers. Through relating to what has been written, we learn, we are not alone. Those feelings are felt by many, those experiences are lived by many. We feel understood, we feel connected. We feel, as one.
I was asked to come up with a #7wordstory. I could not decide on which one to go with, so I wrote 2, on the same theme… hope I am not cheating haha.
Picture taken at Glasgow Necropolis, by myself.
All the sparkly stimuli
Brightens up the blacked out sky
It glistens these bare trunks
Pumping shine into those spunks
In pursuit of starry lights…
You shattered my heart, which broke into bits.
Like a jigsaw that’s missing a piece,
I can’t get complete.
You made crumbs out of our love
And you didn’t even scrap it off.
You had it crumpled up into a ball,
Making my feelings look small.
You denied we were good craic,
Only water off a duck’s back.
The ironies of love!
One sided connections,
Fuelled by distorted perceptions,
Sit heavy on this grated heart.
The weight causes it to get deflated.
For this longing never was but obliterated.
… Can it be love if it isn’t reciprocated?
You can lose everything,
But when you lose your sense of SELF,
Trust me, it is maddening!
You act like a fly, trapped inside a glass cup
Desperately trying to come out.
The effort is pointless, yet, you still doubt.
Haphazard flying only leaves you choked up.
Huffing and puffing,
Eventually, you give up.
You change your mind at any second:
I want it all… I want nothing!
The devil and angel
On your shoulders cling,
Constantly fighting to be beckoned.
If only I could escape from myself!
Unscrew my head, give me a break.
Stop this wishful ebb and flow tidal wave!
You say we find peace,
When we are asleep.
But my self is purely wicked.
It shakes and trembles,
Inside unconsciousness’ sheets.