Tag Archives: bipolar disorder

Neurotic Delusions, Grandeur and Love

 

232

How did I love you?

Those who saw the diamond through the coal,

With all of what I am,

Muses all,

How did I worship the very ground you walked on?

Praising your feelings,

Bowing to your desires,

And every whim,

How did I love you?

Do I love you…

The only way I know,

The way that you forgot,

Unconditionally,

And without equivocation,

For I am love,

Love I am AND

Love repeats

Inside concentric circles AND

Is rarely black and white…

Though hands outstretched I continued on,

Seeking the one,

She,

Muse,

That would liberate my soul,

Free my mind AND

Alight my every desire.

How did I love you?

For when our eyes met,

And your spirit dangled before me,

Muse (s),

I had no other choice,

But to fall,

Hard into you,

The way the universe seemed to be speaking to me,

Invisible vibrations settling frayed nerves,

Through you,

That I would abandon me,

So that I could have you,

The mistakes I made,

Now obvious,

As you let go,

Each of you,

Just in time,

For my mind to plot a new course,

In your heart,

No longer loving me,

Or so you said,

Leaving my neurosis to consider,

Once love bestows,

Can it simply disappear,

Back into the Ether from whence it came,

Or does it remain,

Inside our DNA,

Surely revealing a divine plan,

That is neither black nor white.

How did I love you?

Completely,

Parts of me still wondering,

What went wrong?

Knowing all along the answer,

Is that my mind,

No longer numb from the drugs and the drinking,

Had given way,

To something you couldn’t recognize,

Something you couldn’t,

You wouldn’t deal with,

Leaving me abandoned,

With the greatest fear I have ever had,

That I am not good enough,

Oh how did I love you?

How did we get to here?

This crossroads of our own survival,

Our mutual creative thrusts,

No longer mutual,

You fighting for your delusions,

Following your dream,

Loosing me forever,

I and I and I fighting my delusions,

The unintended consequence,

Of your decision and ripe cancellation,

Left me fighting for my sanity,

My toe clearly in the water,

As I let go,

Completely,

Of myself,

To be with you,

Left reeling now,

Forced to imagine what my life had become,

I and I and I crying out;

What has life become?

So plain to see,

But while you were looking,

You couldn’t see,

What was there,

Right in front of you,

Now vanished,

Like the tomes I wrote of our love,

How did we come to here?

Something snapped,

My synapses firing less than wondrously,

The brain affected by something,

As two hemispheres,

Left and right battle daily,

With demons that you never saw,

I never showed you,

The royal you,

For;

How could I?

As it would have interfered with what you dreamed of,

What dreams may come,

You would have lost focus,

And in the end,

You did lose focus,

On the one person that loved without condition,

From once upon a time,

To the end of my days,

So too did I,

And I and I,

Lose,

Control,

Of that which I value so dearly,

This mind,

This beautiful and tortured mind,

A Shakespearean Tragedy and fault all at once,

Cracked,

But not the code,

For the Ether still had and has in store,

A magnanimousness that even I cannot comprehend,

For when the Sirens sing,

I row away from the shore,

Seeking the enduring strength,

To ever more press on.

Inside,

I felt beaten by love,

Drowned in insecurities,

Anxious that I was not good enough,

Would never be good enough,

That finally,

My mind,

Had let go,

And I was about to be thrust to the other side,

The name that dare not speak itself,

And yet,

It was howling in my ears,

Twenty four hours a day,

Sleep at a premium,

If for only twenty minutes at a time,

Inside,

I was yet to understand,

That I was,

And would,

If I didn’t address it now,

Slip forever,

Into insanity,

And so,

Without you,

I sought the help I needed and need,

So that I can reclaim my life.

Reclaim and rebirth.
The gray matters of the heart and soul,

Seeking not a straight line,

But the road less travelled.

My Black Dog,

Said before and will again,

A rabid bitch,

She defies logic,

And escapes reason,

She demands that I sit silent,

Isolated,

Alone,

Sullen emancipation,

From the rules that bind all of you,

For at first,

While I was embarrassed,

Ashamed and frightened by what was happening,

I came to understand,

Through endless dialogue,

With a brilliant sage, sages,

That this curse,

As I have referred to it time and again,

This blessing and curse,

Is the battleground of my own survival?

At least with this mind.

Neurotic,

Depressed (not sad as many a Muse has maintained),

Bi Polar,

Hyper Mania,

OCD,

Murmur,

Seizures,

And more,

The laundry list of my body’s contempt,

For this mind,

This beautiful mind,

And warrior poet soul,

Ether,

Though this scorn,

Is nothing like the other contempt I have endlessly known,

Nor does this contempt define me,

I will not,

Could not,

I WON’T allow contempt to control or destroy me,

No I will fight,

I WILL FIGHT,

A war consistent, that paints itself here,

For all to see,

My contempt palpable,

For what this beautiful mind is trying to do,

And is in fact,

And then there is Muse…

Muse,

Her subtle fingerprints,

All over my words,

Since the day I entreated her to flutter into my being,

Her soul dancing with mine,

Painting pictures of imagined futures,

Though none as marvelous,

As just one simple kiss,

That settles in me a passion,

A passion others have known,

Though this time,

There is something ripened about it,

As if the cancellations of my past,

Have somehow taught me,

Not to give up,

Not to give in,

Instead,

To give completely,

To share,

Whether good or bad,

Exactly who and what I am,

Finding acceptance in her smile,

Finding strength in her eyes,

Finding solace when she touches my hand,

Sending me to a repose I’ve never known.

Muse,

Passion renewed,

Desire quenching my souls ache,

To be touched and to touch another,

In such a way,

That their entire day is lifted,

Their entire life finds new meaning,

All of who they are,

Not tied up to who you are,

Instead,

Together,

Creating an individualism,

That because of new love may emerge,

Muse,

New Muse,

She brings to me,

A renewed passion,

I bequeath these humble words to thee

And the beautiful love,

Already created in your image,

That now shines on me.

Millions of words,

Stained by love,

These words,

Since my journey of self discovery began,

All those years ago,

Repeated,

Out of the ashes of a love destroyed,

By malignant neglect,

This Little Prince rises,

To meet the challenges,

Of the voices in my head,

As I humbly submit,

To you.

SDM

Written from photo prompt at http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/2014/08/mag-232.html .

Some of the best writing on the net.

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My Name is Sender…

Lend me your eyes;

Hi, my name is Sender and I have a problem,

Problems…

My life recorded invisibly on my body,

You can not see,

Or fathom,

Indelibly on my soul,

Like a crown of thorns,

Though you have already embraced it,

And ganders through the disjointed cracks of my prismatic heart,

And someday,

Should you be so lucky,

You might know me in a way that so few can or will;

Should you be so lucky?

I hope that one could be so lucky,

Muse,

Who now come, seems so ready to depart,

Afraid of the possibility, possibilities,

Departure delayed, arrival uncertain,

Yet,

You may find that I will endure beseeching you,

Imploring and enticing you,

Silently,

In words like these,

To approach my story,

With a vulnerable mind and a sacred heart,

So that I can show you what I already know,

Just as you do,

These feelings are not the imaginary dalliances

Of delusion,

Rather the infusion of the Ether’s calling.

There are lashes, gashes, cuts and bruises,

Beyond the eyes comprehension,

Those never heal,

There are torments and tortures,

I would wish upon none but me,

Those never heal,

For though the blessing and curse exist in me,

Bipolar dualities,

This Warrior Poet, fights on,
GO BRAGH;

Shattered glass heart and malfunctioning dreams.

That you never see,

Though you may feel, if, perchance,

You had the bravery,

The courage to risk it all for happiness,

As so often I do,

To stand exposed, as I am at this moment,

Though, should you find that power,

You may experience with me,

Should you be so inclined,

Touched by me as I long to touch you,

Reliving daily,

Seconds, minutes, hours and days,

In rapid succession those moments that brought me here,

Now,
Muse,

Tracing my restlessness with rabid delights,

Delights like you,

Muse…

My fingers like Picasso’s brush,

And Van Gogh palette,

My authenticity falsely imprisoned in cubist fragments,

A sick joke played by my psyche as

My veracity self realized,

And abused,

Calls forth the divine intention of a personal gentrification,

You may unearth,

That when I implore you,

I am pained beyond words,

Except when I see your smile,

From those big brown eyes

And your radiant soul,

While revealing to you I am stretched across my canvas,

At your behest,

I am thrust into the eye of the storm,

That life has constantly divulged to me,

Dark clouds, gathering and furious storms

And my Black Dog.

As soon as one episode ends without a laugh track,

Another begins,

Up and down,

Down and up,

A silent movie,

While Charlie Chaplin prays us smile,

I can paint a smile on my face,

Rehearsed and like a costume, hiding,

It does little to conceal my contempt,

For this plight,

I am caught inside the cage where the bird cannot,

Does not,

Will not sing,

Though the beautiful song is so clear,

All I need do is vocalize it,

As I have,

Watching as I do,

Interned and waiting,

For my turn to reveal more,

Muse,

So that you might understand,

Muse,

What makes me tick,

What drives me onward,

What removes the veil,

And the answer Muse, is you,

Thus as a proverbial bride,

In this revelation,

You will carry me across the threshold,

So that I can intimately express to you,

That my scars are the graffiti

Imprinting my story on my body,

My heart, mind and soul,

And in that moment,

You will have me,

Tagged,

As I have already,

Tagged you,

Muse.

SDM

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Good Sender Hunting

 

Since my birth I have shirked convention,

I am FAR from conventional,

I guess some of you might call me a pain in the ass,

Especially those that never did nor could get me,

But if we are calling spades, let us call this spade what it really is;

I have at various points of my life worked as a video clerk,

A flyer guy for a start up Pastry store,

A Customer Service agent at a utility call centre,

I have owned and operated two consulting firms both far ahead of their time,

With a partner who still luckily adores me,

Started a Philanthropy,

G O O D P E O P L E… cause that is what we are, right?

I have worked as a trash compactor service repairman,

A private investigator,

A Club promoter

And have I left anything out,

Chef and even an Online Retail General Manager

Oh yeah, not to mention…

 

…a political operative at all levels of the democratic process in Canada

and around the world!

 

Since my birth I have shirked convention,

Why should I try to fit my square

Into your circle?

 

I have been everything to everybody and ultimately,

Nothing to myself,

I have done enough to survive,

Knowing that at some point survival would come in handy,

And it has,

Just look at me now,

Life is my oyster,

Despite and in spite of all my pain,

Twice lost children

And all I could do was cry,

Three times lost love,

And all I could do was cry…
But I march on,

Press on,

NEXT…

Since my birth, I have shirked convention,

I have attended the best schools and the best universities,

None of which knew what to do with me,

I have spit up the mental vomit that was required of me,

And still feel the putrid bile in my throat,

And then some,

All in an effort to get a piece of paper,

That said I was educated,

An empty promise from our schools I assure you.

YOU ARE NOT YOUR GRADES!

 

Since my birth, I have shirked convention,

I have whacked my head against the wall many times, too many to count,

I have thrown shit against the wall and tried to see

What might stick?

And it never did,

And so I wonder;

 

Since my birth, I have shirked convention,

On many a whim I can quote Plato,

Aristotle and NWA in the same paragraph,

Drawing conclusions and making assumptions that few could ever see,

Nor dare to,

Lacking the conviction to think for themselves,

I can remember the first time I was called a liar,

I mean truly a liar,

By a librarian,

Because I had read 100 books in a summer,

I was so surprised that a woman of letters,

A woman I had been taught to respect,

Would have so little faith in an inquiring mind,

To belittle her thought

I asked her to flip any book to a page,

So I could demonstrate to her,

What a great mind looked like,

Needless to say she never questioned me again,

Though I still feel this great mind is in need of more,

Do you understand?

Can you?

 

I have studied the classics,

All of them,

Not in school,

Not in a classroom setting and not because I have to,

I studied them looking for that piece of me

that might somehow make sense of my life,

Great reads to be sure,

Great mind developed in tow,

Inspiring great minds as well,

May I inspire you?

 

Though I still seek the answers,

Do you know where I could look?

Do you know where I should look?

 

I have read, thought about and drawn my own conclusions,

On Smith, Hobbes and Locke,

Coming to Rousseau and knowing that I do think,

And that is the only thing that I can be certain of,

Well that and I can write,

SCRIBO

ERGO

SUM.

 

Dickens has entranced me,

Falling into two cities like they were equal but separate parts of my brain,

Bipolar hemispheres that are in constant duel,

Black dog howling,

Virginia Woolf crying,

Churchill smoking a Churchill,

Hemingway with a shotgun in his mouth,

Shelley, Tennyson, and Mohammad have wooed me,

I have had my eyes opened, by Cohen, Kissinger, and Machiavelli,

I have consumed with great interest Dante,

The Divine Comedy is right,

Funny I cannot peg which circle of hell I belong to,

Tragedy though seemingly my path,

Though I can tell which of the seven deadly sins I have committed,

I have been victim to the giants of the literary world,

Been the willing passenger to the other shirkers of convention;

Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, and Mailer,

I have stood on the edge with Dylan both Bob and Thomas,

Also looking at religion with an open heart and mind,

Though drawing conclusions that so few people like,

GOD IS YOU,

YOU ARE GOD!

 

Poe has hugged me,

I have been beat up by Shakespeare,

Enthralled by Bronte and Austin,

I have consumed mass amounts of Vodka,

Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy counted amongst my mental friends,

Despite their constant battles,

Rasputin always wins;

 

I have read the Bible, The Koran, Torah, and Bhagavad-Gita,

In search of an answer that never comes,

Will it ever,

Perhaps in the end?

I have had conversations with Rabindranath and Flaubert,

Contemplated the nature of life with Darwin,

And questioned it with Kafka and Rushdie,

I have dreamed with Cervantes and Balzac

(damn Absinthe almost made me sane)

While William Golding laughed from the corner;

As he chuckled; “Piggy, piggy, piggy,”

All I heard was “Sender, Sender, Sender…”

 

I need not respond as George Bernard Shaw sent him packing,

Embraced by Chaucer and held in place,

At every step of the way,

By a system that had no concept of what to do with me,

But I have survived,

Thrived,

For all the haters,

Naysayers,

Those who have doubted me.

 

I have been told that my brain is too big to fail,

Kind of like American Banks,

Save that I have no need of a government bailout,

For the government has failed me too,

At every step of the way,

Corrupt for them,

Corrupted by them,

To the point of personal destruction.

 

Good Sender Hunting,

Is now where I am?

 

And I am hunting,

For you, wherever you are,

I am hunting,

Looking for the freedom of expression that is guaranteed me,

The peace, order, and good government that we profess,

The ability to find meaningful work,

To inspire,

To uplift,

To inform and bring joy,

To study as I please,

To write as I please,

To find a way to survive in this world,

That has no use for me,

Except these words,

And in the end my soul friends have always been words,

On a page,

Written by men and women in a far off land and time,

Wondering if I would have hit the same wall,

Thrown the same shit,

And suffered the same sacrifice,

In the name of survival,

In their ages,

Or would I be celebrated like sages?

 

Good Sender Hunting,

but my life no movie,

though if it were surely a tragedy

Shakespearean,

And all I want,

Is to have a place,

That I can call home,

Is it here, now, with you? Figurative!

 

Not more nor less than I need to survive and thrive,

One word, one sentence, one paragraph at a time;

 

TAKE ME AS I AM,

For I am not in control of the many parts of me,

That led me to this page,

These words,

This continent,

This country,

This city,

These kids…

 

I am a maverick,

A modern renaissance man in search of civilization’s enlightenment,

Have any of you seen it,

Heard it,

Felt it,

Can you point me in the write (intentioned) direction?

Because really,

I am lost,

And hunting

definitely an original,

For Sender.

Will you help me?

Because I really like apples…

SDM

 

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And Yet It Moves…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e6C6U9I7VA

Am I?

I must be,

I am,

No,

A fool of a man?

As Neil Young suggests,

Love,

Rendering me inside a hallucination,

Endless fascination,

Destination love,

Journey begun,

Never to find,

The right path,

As so many times before,

Zigging where I should have zagged,

Yet,

This time,

Here with you,

I thought not of loosing,

For we both have everything to gain;

And yet,

The sorrow of ripe demise,

Pulls me in ever more dangerous directions,

Considering the unfathomable,

As for once, this time,

I believed,

And,

Still do!

The deepening haze,

Of the fog of this war,

Depression like a runaway train,

Love,

My constant conductor,

Up and down,

But here,

Now,

With you?

Fool?

Love?

Fate?

Forever?

Never?

Words,

But not just words,

For words spoken,

Reveal intent,

And a kiss is never just a kiss.

Am I just living for the dying,

Or dying for the living,

Love,

Sweet love,

Muse,

My nature,

What am I doing here?

Manically found in a proverbial Kansas,

Raining,

Twister,

Fate or just a fool?

Fickle,

Though this is a moveable feast,

A banquet,

At the chef table of me,

Where you will always have a seat,

Reserved,

Just for you.

I and I,

Held furtive,

By the runaway I,

That believed, believes,

I could,

I did,

Touch you,

As you touched me,

Did I move you?

Or just shoo you?

Were you an oasis in my desert,

Or like a ghost,

From Hemingway’s Paris,

My Paris,

Ours,

My haunting apparition,

Just not now,

Not here,

Or by me?

Ever?

Fool am I?

Must I be?

I am…

Fooled again,

By a radiant soul,

Glowing eyes,

And an impish smile,

Extraordinary rendition,

This confusion,

Shared,

Fool,

I,

Am.

Afraid!

Polarized,

Bi,

You!

And yet it moves,

My love,

Hmong Key…

And yet it moves…

SDM

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Manic Depression (Crash Again)

You’ve got your ball

you’ve got your chain

tied to me tight tie me up again

who’s got their claws
in you my friend
Into your heart I’ll beat again
Sweet like candy to my soul
Sweet you rock
and sweet you roll
Lost for you I’m so lost for you

You come crash into me
And I come into you
I come into you
In a boys dream
In a boys dream”

I hate myself… for loving you.

I love myself…for hating you,

No… no… no…

That can’t be right,

Though these feelings are so intense,

Blossoming with every passing moment,

That it feels as if I am being run over by a bus,

Repeatedly,

By you,

So no,

I don’t hate myself for loving you,

I hate myself for hating you,

when in reality things just fall apart,

just like I have,

just like I did because of the decisions we had to make,

perilous and spirit shaking,

Yet,

I love that with you I knew a home,

A real home,

Such that I have never known,

I love myself for loving you,

Better as I am,

As a man,

For having known every part of you,

And there is so much more I would love to discover,

Will you let me

As I am discovering every part of me,

You always remind me,

That I had to find that place,

(that now seems I have discovered anew),

where I had true inner peace,

engaging my Buddha,

detachment from everything and nothing,

look and I am there,

searching for you,

high and low,

doing everything,

EVERYTHING I CAN,

To get you to see,

these are the thoughts of a ravaged mind,

ravaged by love,

ravaged by you,

I want to be ravaged by you,

And I know I will again,

Won’t I?

I think of you at least fifty nine minutes of every hour,

One minute I am left consumed,

Sorting out the parts of I and I and I,

That seem damned to lovers limbo,

At least for now,

But today’s present,

And all the days between now and then,

Is that you will always be comfortable knowing,

That I care for you,

Deeply,

That I love you,

Truly,

I love myself for loving you,

For the provenance of my souls advance,

Lay neatly,

Undiscovered in your hands,

For the past is the past,

People can and do change if the circumstance is right,

Soon to be unearthed in your thoughts,

In your hands,

Precious though they may be that ripped my heart right from my chest,

Did you look at it while it was still,

Beating,

No… no… no…

That is not right,

You see, this is what manic depression does,

Do you understand?
Do you care to?

Just as you have shown me the way,
I too will be your guiding light…

And yet,

Truly you reveal in me a gentleness,

A greatness,

That I have never known,

One that I now embrace,

Fully and completely,

Transforming into a better man as

You touched my life with cupid’s fingertips,

Guided by my ladies Destiny, Serendipity and Fate,

And now I am left in a contrast and comparison,

Of the days we shared,

The memories we made,

The life we knew,

The love we knew,

The love we still know,

Yes… Yes… Yes..

That is right,

It has to be,

For you are a heavenly present,

My divine Angel,

Muse,

Hmong Key,

Which is why,

As I battle myself for supremacy of self,

Becoming more each day,

I know…

I believe…

I long…

I love… You, I love,

So,

I wonder…

Was it all a dream?

And if so, can we dream again,

Love reborn,

By compassion, understanding, persistence and honesty,

I love you

And I know

You love me too.

I love you Hmong Key!

SDM

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The Epic Wrath of History Repeating

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdY-rywIWNE

 

I’m deeply sorry,
Muse,
Profoundly sorry in fact,
An assault, one of the most meaningful moments in your life,
And most difficult to be sure,
Decisions had to be made,

Life altering,
Moreover, I supported them,
(As I have before, swearing never again)
Support you,
(despite supposed convictions ostensibly negotiable)
I am sorry,
So deeply sorry that it hurts me,
Reopening gashes that I’d finally come to terms with,
You must understand,
At least try to,
This is not a reflection on you,
Rather, a realization of my current plight, and me.

You see,
I have served at the feet of others,
Others desire,
Others needs,
Others want,
Others every whim,
For I believed that was the very cornerstone of love,
Unconditional and without equivocation,
Though only now learning
The difference between giving in and of
Giving of me,
Giving in to the plague of necessity.

I, as you well know,
I am,
Shackled by a burdensome depression,
(one that your presence lifts me out of)
My all too frequently visiting professor of despair,
Tenured,
(held at bay when you are near)
My Black Dog,
Mightier than Cerberus and even more terrifying,
Do you get that? Can you?
This is not hyperbole or a platitude
Instead my daily truth,
Quarreling with the hounds of my mental hell,
A mind that has split in three,
A suffering I wish not on you,
Not even my worst enemy,
Of which I have none,
But if I did,
I would not wish this torment upon them,
For a weaker mind,
Less inclined to fight,
May slip to the other side,
A fear I live with daily,
A thought I have as routinely as you brush your teeth,
Bipolar realities of imaginative suggestion,
The prison cell of both my consciousness and sub consciousness,
The defense mechanism that my internal acumen affords,
A dim but still burning candle taunting me forward,
Chosen light.

Thoughts constantly slashing,
Crashing as if the sea on erosion torn rocks,
The passage of time reflected in their scars,
But my scars you cannot see,
And this new one so raw,
Blinded by temptation,
Forbidden and yet so very right,
I long for more, for you, but
My scars are the inner cuts and bullet wounds,
Of a mind run amuck,
Of experiences I cannot erase,
Memories I cannot purge.

Despite my attempts to explain this virtual hell,
Virtual to you,
Real to me,
Of time marching on,
Thirty-eight years have passed me by,
Twenty two of which I fought with a bottle,
Just to get some sleep,
Inside of me,
A clock,
Destiny’s fingerprints,
Force me to these words,
As shelter from the tempest,
Fighting the course of nature,
Begrudgingly I accept my plight.

And I fight,
Though less for me,
More for those that do not have this gift,
More for those that cannot express this torture,
For my soul,
Twisted and tangled,
By the struggle I face,
Head on,
Though not necessarily head up,
Cross checking me into the proverbial boards,
Of universal discord,
Even now,
As I write these words,
Of these ordeals, disorders and complexes,
(forced decisions that while responsible, STING, the most)
Are uncontrollably forcing my eyes into and out of focus,
Globus Hystericus,
Choking on my own cacophony,
Repeated tragic fate.

Can you imagine,
What I face each day,
In and out of focus,
While my mind, though torn, is like a laser,
Words the beam I use to propel myself from madness,
I know my destiny,
I know what providence has in store,
And as you may or may not know,
I feel that I am worth more dead than alive,
Imagine dealing with that thought, not once a day,
But once every few minutes,
A horrible feeling,
Again,
That no human being should have to face,
(one that I need not face alone because of your grace)
I must,
Face the truths of what I have done,
For what I know is outweighed by what I do not.

Yet,
This is my battle,
This is my fight,
This is my cross,
And I will endure,
Feeling that I had left it all behind,
Until history, in it’s cruelest dimension,
Has repeated itself,
A horror show for me,
Tragedy for you
And I am sorry,
So sorry as, this festering wound is
Reawakening my dormant darkness.

I will press on,
(loving you with continual support)
As I contemplate what it means,
Failed lover,
Failed father,
Protecting mutual self interest,
In the most selfless way,
Finding,
To be this writer,
This beautiful mind,
As Warrior Poet,
Beaten by the battle,
Still waging this interminable war.

In this time,
In this place,
Forced to realize,
That every burden,
For every person everywhere,
Is as challenging as my own,
Just different,
And I know I have saddled you,
And for that burden,
As lowly servant,
I fall to my knees and beg of you,
Accept these honesties and let us together move,
Forward as intended.

Just different,
For we all are unique,
Beautiful,
Though I am restless,
To once again reclaim my rightful mind,
(with your adoring eyes as guide)
Minding the truth,
That this fight is mine alone,
Therefore, I am profoundly sorry,
As my time,
Is now,
To dismantle this mind of mine,
Putting it back together,
In my image,
Therefore, I may press on,
For others,
For you,
And I am relieved you are by my side,
As I must stand,
In this moment,
For us,
Warrior Poet,
Giant of spirit,
And delicate Peter Pan,

Love;
My personal odyssey.

SDM

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Hallelujah

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4

At every point,

That I have turned,

I have been disappointed,

And disappointing;

Blessed and cursed,

As I struggle to comprehend,

How I end up this way,

How we all end up this way;

Searching and not finding,

Seeking and discovering no solace,

Leading to problems of the spirit and the soul,

Crushed intentions and broken hearted,

As Leonard Cohen,

(through this beautiful rendition, extraordinary)

Tugs at the outstretched strings,

As picturesque and subtle beauty,

Only comes in black and white,

Moments of sepia exaltation,

And the only word I can spare,

Is Hallelujah?

At every point,

Of this tragic life,

Divine comedy,

I have pushed on,

Rifling,

(Though no Hemingway pulled just yet)

Pursuing,

(Though not sure of what save love)

Figuring out,

What I know,

And what I do not;

Knowing that the latter is winning that battle,

And yet, the war rages on,

Deep within,

Returning still to the faint hope,

Of the sun as it reaches a cross,

Just as it has in my life.

At every point,

I have reached toward the heavens,

The glorious celestial body from which I came,

Spiritual and not religious,

Every atom of my being,

Star dust,

The wisdom of billions of years,

Contained in this fragile frame,

As I thrash about,

Again,

Cohen beckoning me to believe,

Something,

Just not sure what,

Nor is he.

At every point,

I have found,

That I am lost,

Wandering lust fully engaged,

Doppelgangers and Black Dog’s,

The voices in my head and temporary delusions,

Polar opposites,

Attempting to know,

That which refuses to be known,

In a useless quest,

That will only leave me,

Hanging,

Crucified on my own submission,

To that tender emotion,

That is rife with terror,

Fears and in my case, always;

Abandonment.

At every point,

One way here,

Another way there,

Lonely and yet surrounded,

Never quite alone,

Never quite inside the line,

Again,

The clouds,

My tears reveal,

And again,

Leonard pulls me back,

A giant,

Pulling out of me,

Everything I have left,

But can I show it?

Did he?

Do you?

And if I do,

Then what?

Manic depression,

The continual vicissitudes,

Posited dimensions,

Whereby my demons are my shadows,

And the circles of hell constantly invite me,

Ever nearer,

To a fate we all know,

Since the moment of our first breath.

At every point,

Loathing save for when I love,

For whom I love,

Is like an angels choir,

Many voices united,

(not like those in my head)

In prayer,

But to who or what,

Is not so clear,

And if it were, would it still be so majestic?

Leonard says he has done his best,

And I know he has,

Tried,

As I have,

As I do,

Continuing daily

To begin the process anew,

Of healing,

Still torn, not tattered,

Battered but not beaten,

And yet,

For us both,

It is vain,

That we wait for something we will never know,

At least not in this life,

Could we?

At every point,

Hallelujah,

My cross screaming out to be seen,

Born as we all are,

Of suspicions and longings,

Wanting to be felt,

Aching to be known,

For what I am,

For who I am,

For when this life is over,

My words will remain;

I did my best,

And whatever you are;

He/She/It/They…

Hallelujah!

SDM

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