Bullet Bipolar Tales

I’m the shell shocked lover with a bullet ridden mind,

A labyrinthine tale of woe and highs you’ll ever find.

Don’t hold me tight in the night I may just explode,

Or fall to pieces slowly over the years I reaped then sowed.

So I don’t know if you can hear over this plane crash,

Maybe you shouldn’t hang around while I burn and flash.

I could say I love you but I’m not sure which voice said it,

I feel it coming again but you and me baby are a tight fit, will we split… Or fight these mindless demons and stick!

D August 2018

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How can?

How can I tell you that there is no further you can break my heart, all the quips, cold shoulder statements, dismissals all added to tear my insides apart.

How can I tell you that this empty shell no longer cares, of the wounds you threaten to inflict or the scars you wish to bare.

How can I tell you now I’m stronger than ever, as a broken heart doesn’t last forever…

… You see during your fire storm forgot to take stock and see, and I know now all I need to survive; is me.

D July 2018

Birthday Revolution

It’s my birthday and I have had a great day. As I continue my kick back against digitization I will be now posting my poetry this way. I’ve swapped my keyboard for a fountain pen, my digital camera for a 35mm Nikon, my smart phone for a dumb phone (phone calls and messages only), ordinance survey and a compass instead of Google maps and many other small changes where I benefit from the off grid world and the online beast that seems to be devouring the planet. Mentally I feeling really good, I even go out now without a phone at all! Something that probably hasn’t happened since the 90s. I still use the big PC and tablet at home but hey, it’s always been easy to follow someone home so these two devices knowing where I live I don’t give an arse about.

I feel happy, I feel safe and I have my family. What more could you ask for on your birthday. I’m a very lucky man.

Peace D

The Rolex Man and The Dick Doctor

wandering-peace

[Based on a real life event]

I, D and a friend C, were in a beer garden mindlessly chatting the day away when a tall sharped suited man wearing a rolex and some expensive shades rolled up and said.

‘Hey C, haven’t seen you in ages …’ he then eyed me up and down ‘… Oh your … D!, the man who had the mental breakdown.’

There was an awkward pause and I summoned up the courage to say;

‘I don’t know you, yet you seem to know something about me, are you in any way a qualified Psychiatrist, community mental health nurse or any way qualified to back up that statement?’

[awkward pause as I guess A was expecting me to fold straight away] … ‘No it’s alright mate, I just heard from a friend that you, you know had, had been in the ayslum.’

‘Is your friend in any way a qualified Psychiatrist, community mental health nurse or any way qualified to back up that information? … no? … Yet you think it’s acceptable to come up to me and use that as your opening for conversation with me?.’ … ‘If I had an obvious disability would you roll up and say, ‘oh how you doing Mr no arms?’ … ‘Lets swap this round shall we … Hiya A, aren’t you that guy with a really small dick?’

‘What the fuck?’

‘Perfectly reasonable statement, going by your rules, a friend told me. She’s got a polaroid and a ruler and everything, and all the girls know about your small Phallus. Even Dr Minimus Phalusnus signed it off as true …’

‘I don’t need to hear this shit from madmen ….’

‘…. and I don’t need men with expensive rolex’s making up for there tiny dicks interrupting my pleasant evening with my friend.’ … I lean over ‘This is the bit where you leave.’

I return to my cider with my friend in the sunny Surrey summer.

[Although this is paraphrased, this did happen and versions of it over the years. It’s called stigma. And no one should be ashamed of their mental health or have it used as a conversation piece for the masses. Go bug the Kardashians]

Eternal Will

I trusted you all in my misplaced years long ago, then you plugged wires in my head to keep track of everything I said.

Then you wanted me dead and though I have fallen a hundred times I keep on. Because the wires in my head won’t let me be gone.

I’ve seen things that I can’t speak, demons and dyrads fighting in the shadows of humanities soul. I persist even though I do not understand what you are or the goal.

Peace and happiness elude me daily as I live on automatic, so much goddammit static, erratic, fantastic.

I should be dead by now and I don’t know how I made it here, but I feel her heartbeat clear…

… She’s my shield against fear; my dear; my calvary at the rear.

And she will never die because no man has the power to destroy the eternal. It’s not a matter of iron will, it’s matter of what we will.

D April 2018

Lithium Swords

The thirty ton tank breaks the top of the hill, I gobble the prescriptions pills. The cannon shakes and an unknown foe falls. For they battle to own it all.

So I dream of dragons and lithium swords, nothing can break this broad. Though I’m only flesh bone and as brittle as this cheap Chinese phone.

I dream dragons to scorch the earth but my mind has no worth. The idle thoughts of a madman, stuck in the sinking sand.

D April 2018