Schizophrenia and the caveman
I dreamt of telling stories
forged in magic and music.
I heard voices of gods
angels and demons
In the flickering flames
that kept me warm.
It was part of my evolution
but sometimes
did wisdom is seen as mental illness
Nowadays I am known as a schizophrenic
I was a caveman with a shamans knowledge
Now they say I am something to be feared
When I was just reaching out
to understand.
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.
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.
It’s all in your head
the schizophrenia
the uncertainty
behind the curtains of your mind
to be special,
to be magic is to be tragic
to be alone
than one of your drones
is your superhero ability or curse
left in the storm of denial
we are all crazy here
with broken smiles
token, broken people
who believe in science and logic
So pluck your theories from the air
and prove you care
you make the meaning
even if your dreaming
It’s all in your head
so drive yourself mad
and stand alone
even the devils throne
is not comfortable but it’s home
Waking up on a cold brown leather sofa
Not knowing who I am
a man and women ask me how I am?
I ask them if they have any children?
they say no
then a child comes in from the voids light
it’s her birthday
she says I will never drive as knight rider plays on tv
then she asks for a sister and two appear
more birthday girls although one older and one younger
Years on I went to that house
a girl not the same one says something terrible happened here to you
because of you
I hear it in the whispers on the telephone
I see visions of the man being arrested
how did I get home?
memories fragmented
this waking dream won’t relent
I am prevented from seeing what happened
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 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
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.
The hero is known as the villain
Schizophrenia is chilling
in my mind
unkind thoughts strain
hurt by incandescent pain
A voice that chains my soul
yet in the distant soul an angel calls me
the only way I can get to you is time
and living out this life of madness and grime
You never see my pain
behind the cold rain
I hide them all the same
A so called weirdo
I don’t choose to be schizophrenic
it’s God’s epidemic
when the cave man called to the divine
when he spoke to the trees
as gods when he believed
did you think the ones who didn’t believe
tormented him yes they probably did
but without looking outside our shell
we can’t see heaven or hell
and if you don’t look science as well.