Tag Archive | mental illness

Can Everyone Segment Intend?

The process whereby you define your intentions
For the next segment of your day is called Segment
Intending. It’s a way of pre-paving what you
Want to happen. Each part of your day is a new
Point of focus. The process is meant to prevent
Unintended things happening. It helps you tons.

It forces you to make the most of this moment
And to line up your thoughts to what you most desire.
More peaceful moments it allows you to create
Through the day. It keeps you in a positive state
Of alignment. The day that you want will transpire.
You’ve control of it all through your conscious intent.

It helps you to focus your attention on the
Here and now and to recognize that your power
Is in this present moment. Deliberately
Intending gives you confidence and clarity.
The benevolent universe wants to shower
The next segment with all that will make you happy.

The more you take the time to pre-pave the more you
Are aligning your energies with the future.
The path of least resistance it helps you to find.
It is beneficial to all of humankind.
Segment Intending is the best way to ensure
Satisfaction in everything you have to do.

Turkey In The Straw

Nov24

There’s a song that keeps ringing in my ears these days.
As it plays innocently, my fond memories
Are of laughter. The years of my youth were carefree.
Unaware of how the tune has affected me
After decades, I now have a mental disease
That I welcome. It’s one that is worthy of praise.

The eeriest of earworms eats out at the mind.
Unobstructed by commonsense, it has control,
For the moment, of my worthiness to exist
In true freedom. I have the power to resist
The temptation to shuffle and play the dark soul.
The song has power over the one who is blind.

Ice cream is milk and honey. This land that I know
Is uncivil. The white hoods have now been removed.
Thankfulness for the story that is created
Is a challenge if its origin is hated
By the ones who only want conditions improved
For the whole. It would seem there’s a long way to go.

Grateful I am for who I am. Where I belong
Is where I am. The contrafacta may evolve
To the loudest dog whistle made for the turkey
In the straw of the barnyard of humanity.
Sins of ego I am most obliged to absolve.
Thankfulness is believing that nothing is wrong.

The Reason For Madness

Mar28

Many go to psychologists thinking they’re ill.
Doctors know they aren’t crazy. They’re simply confused.
People’s lives become so complex that they’d prefer
Being dead to escape the pain that they suffer.
Life gets too complicated, then folks are accused
Of some mental imbalance and loss of free will.

Because it causes suffering if not controlled,
Inundation of detail we want to avoid
At all cost, as it, on its own, grows and mutates.
Normal people end up with too much on their plates.
The Complexity Problem indeed has destroyed
Many otherwise happy lives… And it gets old.

When a few known catastrophes are added to –
Like the loss of a loved one, your home, and your job –
You may find it unbearable to carry on
‘Til the next damned moment, let alone the new dawn.
Grown adults become children. We break down and sob
Out of sheer desperation while feeling like poo.

So, just like the balloon blown up too much will burst
At the point where it’s weakest, we are quite the same.
The cure for all complexity is found within
Where the self knows simplicity. There I begin
To release the anxiety and the self-shame
Because as things are going, we ain’t seen the worst.

Memories Cherished

Mar18

Many kindhearted people, some angels by now,
And with uncommon patience, have made who I am.
What is wrong about me is my own tangled mess
Aggravated by madness. I am, more or less,
Created in the image of those who I damn
With my inverse reflection, full well knowing how.

Beating up on myself I’ve made into an art –
Just as those who cared for me and those who I played
An unworthy role model… ruthless and profane.
I took every advantage and caused awful pain.
With my bed made, I’m sleepless and cannot evade
The grotesque beast that I’ve been with sickness of heart.

Planted deep in my conscious soil germinates seed
From the heart of the righteous. Love once within reach
Now is longing disabled. Survival logic
Is a piss poor facsimile and a cheap trick.
This I’m fully aware of. Lessons others teach.
Acting out as the student, I had failed to lead.

Not at all melancholy, pleasure now I take
In the clearness of knowing what my makers knew
Since before I had met them. The thoughts I embrace
Generated by feelings of knowing their grace
Satisfy but the least that my writing can do
To give some indication that I’ve come awake.

After The Riots

Mar7

A diehard chump supporter, not feeling at ease
Even though it’s a dark stage, is mostly unseen.
That’s because he’s a coward who will only share
His psychosis verbosely with heartfelt despair
If he remains anonymous. Mental hygiene
Is of newsworthy focus and analyses.

Self-described as soft spoken, this family man
Made a trek across country to participate
In the great resurrection and stopping the steal.
Knowing not what is hogwash from that which is real,
All these ‘boys’ groups of stunted growth live but to hate,
And the wages of such is a shorter lifespan.

As if Alice in Wonderland married Sambo
And gave birth to some colored dwarfs, then took a vow
To denounce her snow whiteness – these poor folk are sick!
Like lost bullshit dispensers, they lay it on thick.
Any trick of the mind they will use to allow
Complete justification for their redneck show.

Their false godhead betrayed them, yet some still have hope
That return to the good times of wholesome hatred
May enforce understanding that racial divide
Is the way God intended. Malefic white pride
Is the scourge of the nation because it’s widespread.
Waiting for their next orders, in limbo they cope.

“Don’t believe what they tell you; they’re all full of lies,”
The conservative mantra is echoed worldwide.
Bigotry is convenience in making things fit.
Yet some facts in the mix that they try to omit
Are that people of color have nothing to hide
And things won’t change to suit them despite futile tries.

Getting Focused

Jan28

Intellect turned against me; my focus unclear…
Psychological processes have more value
Than the ones existential. One worm of ill thought
In the mind become weakened welcomes the onslaught
Of disgust with humanity. What can I do
For the health of my psyche that I hold most dear?

Fleeting thoughts and emotions consume my life force
If I don’t pay attention to wonderful things
That are happening everywhere not in my head.
If I gave life more notice I’d feel much less dread.
Everything in the universe and in me sings
Of our interconnectedness with divine source.

I’m too full of myself. Can I say that to me?
I’d resent it from someone else. If I’m in need,
Then others have advantage and too much control
Over what I experience. My only goal
Is to be more of my best and indeed exceed
What I’m worth as an asset to society.

Suffering is a process just as existence.
One takes place in the mind; the other, everywhere.
The moment of awakening can be sustained
Through preventive self-therapy. I can be trained
To become who I am. Should my mental health care
Draw the worst from within me? It shouldn’t make sense.

There is substantial evidence scientific
And medical pointing to proof that we all are
Better at what we’re doing when we feel our best.
Consciously the decision to not feel depressed
Is the one I must make that cannot leave a scar
On the soul of this sensitive lone lunatic.

Personal Advancement

Oct1

Feeling good about people is something most rare
To those who are forsaken and cannot belong.
I do have mental illness, as many these days.
Fortunately, I manage in creative ways
To ensure my connection with others is strong.
Self-uncertainty certainly leads to despair.

Seeking out others like me or any at all
Is a notion disquieting. I’d rather not
Unless I can be sure I’m not seen as needy.
I don’t know what that term means, so I disagree
That the cost of companionship should be a lot.
When alone, I’m the right size. With others, I’m small.

Life has been a slow train wreck. I keep moving on
To some point in the distance. The drag slows me down.
To myself, I’m no danger… nor to anyone
As my chance for Advancement is gone by and done
Yet somehow I’m not wearing that ugly a frown
And the judgments of others I feed not upon.

Everything must be Personal. Friendship is based
On goodwill and commitment toward making it grow.
Confidence in myself to be open and free
Among uncertain others does still evade me.
Finding faith in my fellow I cannot forego.
All my fears about people will have to be faced.

The Choice Of Depression

Aug7

I once met an attorney who thought she was good
All because her first case as a prosecutor
Was a suicide. She fought and won the damned case!
It would seem that some lawyers are fit for disgrace.
So, if you plan on leaving, you may be in store
For post-death litigation amid spirithood.

Things are screwed up with life. Isn’t that bad enough?
If I get depressed I’m amplifying the fact.
It’s my responsibility only to be
In a state of wellbeing most naturally.
If I get pissed at something, the way I react
Does determine my psyche and all of that stuff.

Do I choose my insanity? In ways I do.
The expression, “I’m mad at you!” is not benign.
Both subconscious and willing, it can get results.
Often times though, it ends up evoking insults.
I degrade my wellbeing when I piss and whine.
I indeed am my doctor. How so this is true.

The Magic Realist

A Poet's Path

Tag Archive | mental illness