Another morning sparks
I hope you’re smiling
I’m so devoted to kissing you
That it makes me smile
In my sleep
The Sky & You – Reblog Poetry
Villanelle – Reblog Poetry
We understand there is both loss and gain
and much besides we cannot think to know
In trying to control the cycling brain
as we daily live with depths of pain
and wait to grasp the high amidst the low
We understand there is both loss and gain
and minds that bend and crack beneath the strain
or falter, limping, halting, slow.
In trying to control the cycling brain
we snatch the fleeting highs and yet retain
the memory of how we’ve suffered so.
We understand there is both loss and gain
in swing from scorching sun to drowning rain
and have our deepest feelings put on show
in trying to control the cycling brain.
A search for level ground remains the main
unfinished task that asks for yes or no.
We understand there is both loss and gain
In trying to control the cycling brain.
The Other Me – Poetry
I waited for her to walk in the door
With her ghetto diction
She was my affliction
My addiction
And the reason why I was stricken and sickened
And plagued by her rage that went way beyond adult age
I gave her the keys and offered her other things
That was dear to me
And taunted the other me
I was tempted to walk away
But I played the fool and stayed
Another day
And another
And another
And I was wrong because I stayed way to long
I was fighting with the knot that gripped my soul
And I knew she was the reason I was old and alone
No one ever told me it would be like this
Once I kissed her majestic lips
Frozen in a matrix of denial
And still
WAITING
ON
HER
Homeless – Poetry
HOMELESS
FORMLESS
NONCONFORMIST
USELESS
LAZY
DIRTY
IGNORANT
PITIFUL
PLAGUED
MAN MADE
UNSOCIALIZED
CRITICIZED
TRAUMATIZED
IMMOBILIZED
SODOMIZED
GHOST EYES
CAGED UP RACE
PAINTED ON FACE
DISCIPLINED RACE
A LOST CASE
A F***** WAIST
LAZY
DIRTY
IGNORANT
PITIFUL
PLAGED
MAN MADE
SOCIALIZED
TRAUMATIZED
HOMELESS
***
Never judge a book by its cover ❤ Be kind ❤
Holly F25.9- Case study #4
I may leave the country with my psychosis in my backpack
~~~
I have been to the east but it was the south that was cruel
~~~
My name is Holly and I’m 27 years old
~~~
I’ve been diagnosed psychotic and schizoaffective
~~~
Bipolar 2 with psychotic features with dissociative identity disorder
~~~
Formerly known as multiple personality disorder
~~~
Diagnosis codes
F31.2
F25.9
F44.81
~~~
What the fuck does this even mean
~~~
They may have diagnosed me wrong
~~~
Mamma says I’m just wired different
~~~
I have Derrick, Mrs. Francis, Bubba and Maxine who live in my mind
~~~
(Whispers) The boogie man came in my room when I was 6 and I haven’t been right since
~~~
Maxine pretends to be my friend and is the loudest
~~~
She’s a bully
~~~
On many different occasions I’ve found myself in Kentucky Florida California and Ohio
~~~
Hell I live in Pennsylvania
~~~
I have little control over any of these personality
~~~
Why are they in here
~~~
I’ve asked them many times to go away
~~~
I’ve stopped asking because I find myself in the behavioral health hospital
~~~
I anger them and they all fight to stay
~~~
As if I really have the power to make them leave
~~~
I’ve tried I tell ya’
~~~
Derrick always has me in lesbian situations
~~~
By the time Holly returns the deed has been done
~~~
Maxine told my mother I was a lesbian
~~~
WHICH IS NOT THE TRUTH
~~~
I’ve been to the behavioral health hospital 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 10 times
~~~
The one I was born in
~~~
I’m 27 and the doctor who birthed me is now my doctor
~~~
How does one go from giving birth to diagnosing one crazy
~~~
My imagination transmits the conversation doctor and mamma have from behind the wall
~~~
Invisible lines that the last 3 presidents drew
~~~
They and the FBI and the CIA conspire against me
~~~
Am I crazy
~~~
I speak 4 or 5 different languages
~~~
I may leave the country with my psychosis in a backpack
~~~
I wonder if my laughter when I’m at the McDonald worries the cashier
~~~
I wonder if my PCP will 302 me again like all the times before
~~~
I stopped taking my meds because I know the FDA is trying to kill me
~~~
I wonder if they will accept me and my back pack in cuba
~~~
I guess we will shortly find out
~~~
My name is Maxine and please disregard all that Holly has written she’s not well
I Waved Goodbye ~ Spoken Word – W/Audio
I watched my joy flutter away
~~~
Like a butterfly
~~~
As I waved goodbye to something tangible
~~~
To something meaningful
~~~
While spirits mocked my lack of compassion for myself
~~~
For (me)
~~~
Half moon spoke (ed) to my soul
~~~
My ancestors tried to reach out to me
~~~
Through the dirt
A flower
The sun
And the rain
~~~
Strangers gazed at me
~~~
As if they knew me and could see my bones
~~~
The ones I’ve buried
~~~
And I watched myself
~~~
Walk away from me
~~~
And I waved
~~~
Goodbye
About: This writer (LaToya)
*** WARNING ***
The peacemaker made me post this
The schizophrenic 52-year-old Caucasian man warned me not to
He believes this site is for believers, dreamers
And the highly motivated and they all want him dead
There are about 8 people who live in my mind
Of all different nationalities, sizes, ages, gender and moral compass
Screaming to be heard
They are all trying to get along in such a small space
Not always easy!
I apologize in advance if you read anything offensive or controversial
I have very little if any control over any of them
Oh boy!
❤ HOLD ON FOR THE RIDE AND WELCOME TO MY PEACEFUL INSANITY ❤
Insomnia – 30 days of Poetry excerpts #30
I’m here once a week tryn’a get the bugs out my head
But the only thing this quack does is prescribe another fuckin’ med
Bugaboos and daja vu’s taunt my twisted brain
Perplexing me and vexing me
Rip me out these fuckin’ chains
I shift my body loosely tryn’a pull back on the reins
But these voices keep on whispering
VOICES: You’re weird stupid and insane
Thank you for visiting this crazy place 🙂
Tombstones – 30 days of Poetry excerpts #29
I got Tombstones in my Mattress
And I practice pretending they aren’t there
Potholes and traps for all who enter these tomb filled snares
I got ash cans and grey post
That line the belly of this seam
I got construction going on
In the trinkets of my dreams
In the pit of my Mattress
I call it the dead zone
There building a fortress
And fences
Calling it their home
And they aint even paying rent
I evicted two tenants
And could care less where they went
Warning: Its lengthy but has an audio version ❤
I Waited for November (dVerse) 30 days of Poetry excerpts
I waited
And I waited
And I waited for her
Days came
And they went
The sun shifted
And it bent
I talked to the gods
Bowed my head hopeful this would be rectified if I repent
But the water
Froze still
Welcome to my peaceful insanity and thank you for visiting ❤
***
Painting by Edward William Cooke, Venice, A November Evening in the Lagoon (1859)
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