Songs in psychosis Bio 1

Chemical brothers

Setting sun (setting – grave yard 2003)

Delusions sometimes come in the form of songs. This Chemical Brothers song “Setting sun” takes me back to the September of 2003. My father had been admitted into a psychiatric hospital after a painful (for all concerned) separation from my Mum. I have been facing my own battles as I had been diagnosed schizophrenic only 2 years before. it was a hugely stressful time for me and I had also fallen out with a friend and potential love interest.

In the early September the sun was still shining and is still warm but the leaves were starting to change to a brown tint the promise of autumn chill was on it’s way. All the stress of that and the fact I had with my Psychiatrist’s consent looked to come off my medication. Made me not only depressed but in a rapid cycling spiral like one of those leaves rising and falling with my mood like that leaf upon the wind. There was no way to escape the onset of psychosis and I hurtled towards my fate like a steam train with no brakes speeding towards a signal which was coloured neon red.

In those days I lodged with my boss Dave who had taken me in after my various troubles and dramas with my illness. Anyway he had his Mum staying I remember waking up to strange smells probably forms of smell that were delusions I believed i had heightened sense and my messiah or Jesus complex was rearing it’s ugly head. My Psychosis took me out on Sunday afternoon stroll to the graveyard on the hill by our old victorian gothic style church. Me being me decided in my psychotic state decided that me being Jesus should raise the dead from their graves. This was after I saw that some of the graves had been vandalised. I remember lifting one the head stones back on to it’s other piece I have no idea how I managed to do this. Maybe it was the adrenalin or the chemical imbalance in my brain and body.

I prayed to father God to restore these spirits to their bodies. It of course didn’t happen and made me feel even worse. When you are ill you cannot tell the difference between fantasy and reality. Maybe I was being tested. After praying many times I gave up and laid myself in the corner of the graveyard out of the way from the passers by. I thought I was Jesus and that lead me down the path of being extremely paranoid of being found out and killed. I believed that anyone with the powers of God would be a threat to governments and the people and they would try to suppress or kill me!

I laid with my left arm clutching my stomach and my right arm holding a blade that I imagined in my mind. It felt like my world was ending and I wanted to die. Thats the type of mental pain psychosis brings. The cavernous lows of being buried in the cave of your mind so soon after thinking you have super powers and can raise the dead. I had real reasons to feel this way having seen my Dad struggling with psychosis as well and being medicated. There is nothing worse than being trapped in stressful situations only that of being trapped in your own unkind mind which vilifies you for not being good enough to be human let alone a god.

I had nothing left to give life and the people I loved but the sacrifice of my body and soul I would lay on the grass still dry from the summer sun and die…

However some one answered my prayers to God his dog was the first to come up to me and he gingerly followed. His name was Jon although I believed he was the devil come to tempt me. He asked me who I was and I swear to you even through the years that have passed one of the things I said was “That my body was young but my mind was very old” this was in line with what I had been taught mostly at Sunday school at my local church. Jesus was after all the word of god and had existed throughout time. Maybe if you read the lyrics at the bottom of this blog you will see that lyrics show the devil saying that rather than Jesus but maybe Jesus and the devil are in fact one and the same after all lucifer and Jesus both are bringers of light and gods favourite sons. Anyway I digress.

Me and John talked for a long time and I had visions like the song said. Maybe when you are mad or in madness there can be seen some truth in the insanity that is the world we live in. He I soon realised was very drunk and when he took me to his house down the road to get some help for me his partner who was a nurse and was very drunk also they offered me some alcohol. They didn’t know my back story and thought I was high on drugs.

Eventually Dave and Phil (my friend and neighbour arrived after they managed to get me to remember Dave’s home phone number but Jon and Liz thought there was something dodgy about my friends maybe it was the fact that I was acting so irrationally and that the situation was out of hand. But I am thankful that after an hour of speaking to Phil and Dave they let me go with them. I am also thankful to Jon the good samaritan for his help that day because If he hadn’t of found me I don’t know what would have happed later on with me in that state.

However this part is probably down to Jon being drunk but her swore that he saw a black blade in my hand when he found me and thought that with me clutching my stomach that I stabbed myself…

You’re the devil in me I brought in from the cold

You said your body was young but your mind was very old

You’re coming on strong and I like the way

The visions we had have faded away

You’re part of a life I’ve never had

I’ll tell you that it’s just too bad

You’re coming on strong

You’re showing your colour

Like a setting sun

Where do I begin

Sunday morning I’m waking up

Can’t even focus on a coffee cup

Don’t even know who’s bed I’m in

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Sunday morning I’m waking up

Can’t even focus on a coffee cup

Don’t even know who’s bed I’m in

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Sunday morning I’m waking up

Can’t even focus on a coffee cup

Don’t even know who’s bed I’m in

Where do I start

Where do I begin

Where do I start

Where do I begin

The change from boy to man (my journey)

I remember my dad calling me a hobbledehoy

neither man or boy

teen ageing is hard
I became a wild card
bottling up my emotions and becoming unstable
I remember the good days and bad
But at sixteen
in my wild dreams
I broke down in sobs and screams
at eighteen
I was diagnosed schizophrenic
but I realise that madness is a pandemic
and most of us will flounder
in its sea of tears

Real Men

Real men

Real men know about issues

real men are not afraid to wipe tears with tissues

real men support their partners

real men are in touch with their emotions and mental health

real men strive to succeed

real men live to love and love to live

and they forgive

they have ambitions

and plan with precision

it is their mission

to protect, and nurture their family and friends

real men treat people with respect and know the message it sends.

Dreamers disease

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.

Angels bleed

Angels bleed in and around me

you ask me for sanity 

I only ask for a reason.

The place where sleeping angels lie

was it a mistranslation?

are they alive or dead?

All those angels sleeping in my head

I knit the truth from telling lies

like the stories I use to tell truth

I stand aloof.

My story an angel’s tale

illusions fail

and I flail all at sea

a sea of tears 

which has fallen from a billion eyes 

Set on the backdrop of broken promises

yours and mine

A heart bleeds divine

but like the ticking clock it has to stop

when the batteries fail.

Inside the mad man

The clammer of the overthinking overwhelmed mind

chattering away with itself like a overused hard drive.

Hope, but she is a caged bird waiting for her master

faith but all faith is enslaved in disaster.

A sonnet of despair, a song of solitude

a monologue of filth and the rude

a innocent boy and a prude.

A crazy overbearing self talk squawk

a chalk drawing of heart that’s been erased.

A penis looking up at the sky

A black dog biting its owner

A loner waiting for the strength to cry.

Freedom from attachment

but a wanting to be engaged and attached

Discourse divorced a face scratched.

silence like a scream

a dream turning into a nightmare

a blank stare

a daydream being expelled.

Hell carrying on into a lonely hello

An eye open that cannot be shut

a slut shutdown clown

love becoming only a noun.

The Escapist

The Escapist

Sometimes my escaping
leads to me scrapping myself
off the floor.
Substance abuse
let loose
has become my demon
from which I have no freedom.
Lost in chaos
I use it change my emotion or keep it in stasis
what a waste this is
I have to face my demons
of psychological fear
work through the tears
become a form of me
that I can eventually be
proud of,
and escape like Phoenix free
when my sadness has left me
and never use the poisons again.

We are Boys

man up?
When did our yearning to protect and serve
and keep people safe?
turn into rage and wanting danger?
We are no stranger to tragedy
avidly wrestling with our desire for violence
was it taught by society and our father, are they keeping silent?

Soldiers growing colder each day
to the god of man we pray
to teach us a better way.

Anger our, “man up” emotion
lost in its devotion
we need different role models action man won’t cut it.
As we destroy ourselves fighting and wrestling with the anger inside
as we collide with the alternate worlds we hide
inside the potential we have
and are told to bite at ourselves
as “man up” is the only thing we hear
we disappear from the innocence
we held dear
the blood stained tear
gives way more often to anger and fear.

The citadel of tears

Stone grey walls.Where silence falls.
Where mouths do not speak

birds do not sing.

On her throne a Queen in a land of mourning 

every day a new day dawning

brings hope but still salty tears fall

like rain down walls.

She awaits the ghost 

Who cries in her dreams

With trepidation.

Every night she is visited.

Every night she is not free.

The citadel of tears is mourning 

and so is she…

Out pouring

Tears well up in my eyes
I dream of being a bird to fly away
To transform with angels wings
But I have no song to sing
The voice, your voice
Weighs me down
Every day wearing a painful frown
The tears of a clown
Is how my father felt
I knelt and prayed
For it all to go away
But in the cold light of day
Cold reality is that I don’t know
whether any of this is real
Delusions, confusions
Flowing, constant uncertainty
Knowing what you would say
You always say I hate you so much
Pessimism has always been my crutch
I loved you like a songwriter loves his piano
The answer is you don’t give a damn though
You were my muse and I have lost all but your voice
Which torments me in every choice I make
Mighty oaks break, their branches tear and shatter
Do I really matter or are my words just noise that clatter
I thought I once met Jesus on my 16th birthday it was my wish
Can I fish my own soul out of sea
Still I yearn for you girl with many faces
Many expressions but I have spoken to you and you have words so few
I cannot escape all the torment you have put me through
and yet I would move my aching soul and bones
Just to sit and talk to you on your throne.