This wasn’t the life that was advertised

I am surprised

and yet lies

are a belief of some kind

they advertised this life but it has been unkind.

They teased social mobility

the agility to move into the middle class

but aspirations

fall short

they distort

where realised truths stands the door

to the psychiatric ward

where holidays abroad

stand a benefits trap

a DWP map

with no way out

I doubt

I will find a way

into a future a brighter day.

This life isn’t as advertised

through google goggles

through YouTube models

I don’t have a car

three kids and a wife

I have pain and strife

Pessimism is my crutch

no offers or as much

No one gives me a chance at a job

they just call me a benefits slob

I look after my Dad as carer

they swear yeah

even when diagnosed with a serious mental health problem

they think I robbing

tax payers

and no amount of praying

will solve

when the life as advertised dissolves.

The woman with many faces

In the darkness and light of a daydream from a distant heaven. The woman with many faces but one soul. I have looked at legends and myths. She is a gift. To live many lives and still remember some of them is her curse.

I remember she woke my kaleidoscopic mind like in the song porcelain by Moby. A conversation between the two of us. Her timelines spread across mine. Her heart and soul a beacon for mine.

Giving me a reason for life and seeing beyond the illusion of separation. She has been living all the lives I see through the collective unconscious the Holy Spirit is a girl a woman a mother a sister a friend a lover and so much more. Life would be a mistake without her music. She speaks through the crowd words of wisdom that guide me.

I have been labelled schizophrenic but I can see her spirit in all things. The way the wind moves the trees leaves she is one who guides us all. Oneness is what I have found I am her protector I love her darkness her light some may say I have lost my mind. And all the unkind things but those people are blind.

Peter Pan as a Man

Drifting from day dream dramas

Karma an unhinged beast

feasting on imagination

His righteous indignation

blushing red against his skin

but chained against his respectable aura

he didn’t want to grow up

He’d rather blow up

like a bomb

Songs gather enemies embolden

the golden days are over

fairies watch dying in the distance

His shadow takes over leading him on

Peter Pan as a man

He’s forgotten to dream

to feed the crocodile of time

these are the days that loose their shine

corporate suits kill

never land roots lost

We all grow up he’ll never settle down

lost in psychosis

waiting for cleansing osmosis

telling tales no one believes…

Schizophrenia

This dreaming is dark

But I won’t lose my spark

sanity is a perspective

I don’t stand for the collective

the curtains I sit behind are walls

the fractured voice of someone I love calls

and tells me she hates and berates me

in the darkness of my mind

her unkindness

blinds me.

Binds me to the certainty that life is unfair

will it ever be repaired?

The stigma attached to me lies

the fire in my heart won’t die

and maybe I enlightened or frightened

of this form

since I was a daydreamer, after I was born

the storm of intrusive thoughts

the delusions in which I am caught

and I will argue that the stories I tell myself are yours too

you just aren’t boogie man blue

You think we are different

I am just medicated and irreverent

to this constructed reality

which you think is concrete

but where angels fear to tread I won’t retreat..,

You can’t imagine the things I have seen

You can’t imagine my dreams

you can’t think like me in every way

I am unique, I pave the way

I maybe distant

sometimes obtuse

I sometimes let loose

my fears and anger prangs

like a car hitting a wall

but I hold as much truth as you all

See I am schizophrenic

I hear voices

But don’t despair

I see choices

they hang in the air

I have been broken

I don’t expect you to always care

I doggedly battle on

Cause I still know right from wrong

even with whispers and shouts in my mind

I fight to be human and to be kind

Though I suffer with paranoia

the darkness which destroys

I love life enough to stay here and not be destroyed

so don’t have pity

Let me speak and write and sing

because I know sadness is a painful muse

but creativity is my thing.

I come from a lost home

I come from

A lost home

my psychosis at 16

two years of hell

Dad and mum threw me out

My roots broken

Then Living in hostel

With Creaking fire safe doors

council estate yellow bricks and concrete

Dirty mirky stained glass windows

looking out on the world

Not a church

where I would fashion ideals

But a place I could be at peace and reshape my soul

Even in a place which had a

scent of old burnt out cigarettes

Smokey stained furniture

like an old fashioned bed and breakfast

The kitchen smelt of convenience.

Packs of chicken and beef super noodles

Boiling in a pan.

This is where freedom started

Hope in the darkness

Grey days but sometimes occasional sun

Dance music blaring from my boom box

a CD player in my room

chemical brothers basement jaxx tracks

Paper and pen

Penning poems

finding myself

I still loved a girl called Becky

who didn’t love me

I gave up,drinking as my mental health was suffering

Giving up the poison

for my own piece of mind.

Boy in the corner

Boy in the corner
stares into space
boy in the corner
falls asleep what a disgrace
it’s school, lesson time
learning about life
Boy in the corner
Don’t you want a job and a wife?

teacher makes fun
boy in the corner
why are you a daydreamer?
or are you just dumb?
everyday there stare through you
you feel numb
sadness is the only way
to live your parents blame you
they blame each other
boy in the corner
you will soon have a sister and brother

Boy in the corner
its time for college
aren’t you glad
boy in the corner you lost your temper are you mad?
The question hangs in the air
boy in the corner
with hell in your head
Boy in the corner
you identify with Jesus but he’s dead

Boy in the corner
Now you’re in handcuffs
You told the police your him
in a police cell causing a din
they gave you your sins
told your sectioned
and need correction

Boy in the corner
taken to psychiatric hospital
in police wagon
facing the dragon that is insanity of life
you don’t want to eat
For fear of the devil inside your mind
Hated by yourself and unkind

The only way out is not believe your own lies
Boy in the corner
You will your right your wrongs
Boy in the corner you are strong
Stay strong in the character you have chosen
your heart is hot not frozen

Boy in the corner you will climb that mountain
Experience that kiss
Love that woman
you will come through this
boy in the corner
Your heart is fierce
boy in the corner
You are man
you will make the haters understand.

I realised my truth

Sitting in the darkness of my nan’s cupboard under the stairs talking to god

an odd little boy

Who wanted his dreams to matter

Who wanted them to be true

I needed love but I need my beliefs to be real too.

my life’s foundations aren’t love as they ought to be

but wanting to have a special relationship with the creating force or spiritual entity

or maybe to be special or chosen myself

I am the monster who daydreamed blue skies

but when the light in my eyes dies

who will I be?

the man with tears in his eyes for all he let go

the man with tears in his eyes because he never got to let his heart show

someone that they mattered above all

my heart was always a shield or a wall.,,

Strange child blues

I used to talk to god in the dark wilds of my grans cupboard under the stairs

I used to walk around the playground looking for friends just getting blank glares

I used to think god was a man but it’s probably a goddess I was looking for

I used to think I had the key to heavens door,

I broke into her house looking to talk some more

I used to want to be last messenger of god but the girl with many faces needs someone else

I have walked through the white corridors of mental asylums

I have been a child trying to find her

She left me clues

this is the haunted man once a strange child blues.

Panic attack

The breathing, needing distance

Panic attack insistence

beating against the ribs bones and skin

I cannot escape I am chased within

By the a hound I cannot see

It’s agony

My breathing speeds up

I lose my voice

I fear the destroyer of peace of mind

I am the death of kindness

and insistent

to cause such pain

I am agony and fear like death

I am agony and lack of breath