I’m Reaching Out Tonight (Think Back from the Edge)

The river is so cold and wet

I am sinking out of sight

Dark cold water fills my lungs

I’ve killed myself tonight.

 

Floating down the swollen river

The stars they shine so bright

My coat is heavy, weighs me down

Could it be tonight?

 

Upon the bridge I’m looking down

My head is numb and light

No one’s around, so I step off

Maybe it’s tonight?

 

I close the door behind me

The snow is crisp and white

I have a plan, I’ll see it through

Please God, please tonight?

 

My dearest friends and family

My last wishes I here write

It’s not your fault, but I must go

I’m sorry, but it’s tonight.

 

My thoughts and feelings hurt me so

Nothing left to fight

I have to end this living hell

I believe it is tonight.

 

Depression is too deep, too dark

The tunnel has no light

I’ve laid in bed another week

Stuff, it’s tonight

 

I’ll dial that helpline number

Though I’m scared and full of fright

                                                                       “Hello Samaritans”

“I’m desperate can you help me?”

I reached out tonight.

 

Make the call, You’re worth it!

Suicide Hotlines

In 2016 there were 6188 suicides in The UK and Republic of Ireland. Suicide is a serious issue. If you are feeling suicidal help is available.

UK and Republic of Ireland The Samaritans on 116123 or email jo@Samaritans.org you can find other resources on u can cope

In the USA Nation Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255

In Canada 403 327 7905

In Australia Lifeline Australia 13 11 14

In India The Samaritans +91-22-2307-3451

In Israel  Eran 1201

Twitter 800273TALK

Please add suicide hotline numbers from your country in the comments and I will add them above.

 

P.S. My poetry can be quite intense. I am OK.  Writing is recovery.

Tears of a Blade

Two razors form a crucifix

I hope for resurrection

They cut a map upon my flesh

To provide me with direction.

The blood makes tears, upon my arms

The ones my eyes can’t shed

Despite the pain, traumatic grief

The blackened heart of dread.

It makes life real, and validates

The hurt that lives inside

I’m trying to escape from it

I wish I could have cried.

 

On looking back, it’s plain to see, the trauma that’s been moving me, to run, to flee from tragedy, help me destroy the memory that leaves me locked internally, behind the walls encircling me.

To keep you out.

 

There’s a map upon my skin

Raised ridges scar this lanscape

A map of life and emotion

That only found it expression

Through the tears of a blade.

So many journeys and destinations

People and buildings mapped out.

I look over the information, the symbols, the key.

How do I find my way to my destiny if it’s not on the map? Not written in big red letters?

 

It’s time to find the cross

Erase another line,

Let the tears flow free again

And maybe i can make that sign.

The destinations there,

It’s waiting to be found.

To lay this black, dead heart

Inside the sacred ground.

The tears of red will light the way.

And keep the fear of life away.

Until that final blessed day.

 

“TEARS OF A BLADE”

“Tears of a blade” you’ll hear me say.

 

P.S. my poetry can be quite intense. I am OK.  Writing is recovery.

Mushroom Head

Mushroom head is full of scare

There’s a goat stuck up my nose

A nightmare’s in the wardrobe

Where a cabbage normally grows.

 

A bus slides past, on its roof

Down the icy street of blood

Monsters in my mushroom head

Want to suck my blood.

 

My brain – it ain’t that normal

Since psychosis settled in

I’ve let it have the front room

And I live in the bin.

 

The doctor don’t know what to do

He’s given me some drugs

But the nightmare took them off me

And fed them to the slugs.

 

“GO AWAY MUSHROOM HEAD”

“I DON’T WANT YOU KNOW MORE”

It stood there and laughed

With dark and hollow eyes

Then told me very calmly

“I will turn you into pies”

 

It forced me into the kitchen

And took a knife in hand

“Don’t speak to me like that again”

“I hope you understand”

 

“I’m not your psychosis”

“Look in the mirror and see”

“You are my reflection”

“It’s you who’s buggin me!”

 

No I don’t know what is true

“WHO IS REAL” I shout

So I’m going to hang myself tonight

And then I’ll soon find out.

 

If I’m not successful

And find that I still live

Then I will know that I’m the madness

And in mushroom head I live.

 

But if I gasp and choke and die

My reality will be known

Mushroom head will vanish

And I’ll die in peace, alone.

Collecting Days – But I Don’t Know What For!

People like to collect things.

It’s a natural human experience.

Some people collect friendship.

Others collect grades and marks

As a result of collecting information.

Most people collect comfort,

With food or clothes or to

Make a house a home.

It’s no compulsion, for them

It’s the pleasure of life

Where meaning is made

From

Collecting connection.

 

For some it goes wrong

The hoarder has to have the shit you throw away, that’s no use, it ends up in a charity shop or the car boot sale. Your waste will fill my lack of space, as I lost it with the need for more, of bits and pieces, more and more goes through my door and I HAVENOSPACETOBREATHANYMORE

But I don’t know what for.

I don’t    know     what

For!

 

The dull train goes rickety rack, along the track, you stand and snack, with twisted back, you lean to hope, you have to see, to look at me, with pen in hand, as I go past, you search so fast, for my number,  for my number, write it quick, write it fast,     I’m going,    and     you           smiled                    at

Me

But we know your not free, and you never will be, because now in the rain, comes another dull train – white and black numbers. Look.

Look  look – write me in your book.

But you don’t know what for

You    don’t    know    what

For!

 

I don’t know what for

Why life? There’s no meaning,

And I’ve given up gleaning

for bits to make sense

Get up in the morning

I act – and I do what I do

Because something needs doing, it has to be done, no matter what, just do it, then do something else, and then do some more. Sometimes it happy and joyful, or sad, or full of the crippling energetic bursts of anxiety that make me stiff and yet shake.

 

There are times it’s so engrossing that you find a flowing life that runs so easy and so free it happens so quickly and time has passed and I stop.

And I can’t tell you what I’ve done. What have I done?

But I find

In bed at night

When stars shine

That whether or not

The day has been good

Or bad! Positive or joyful and busy or

 

Slow

Or sad, HEAVY and SAD

That all I have done is

Collected

Another – meaningless – pointless day

And I go to bed knowing

That tomorrow I will collect

Another – meaningless – pointless day

To add to my growing collection

But I don’t know what for

I    don’t    know    what

For!!!

All that is left is to find meaning.

 

Or…….?

 

Passive Agressive

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

I deeply hate you

 

Mary had a little lamb

It’s fleece was white as snow

I wish you would divorce me

You really have to go

 

Amazing grace

How sweet the sound

You once were sweet to me

Your voice it hurts

Your touch is rough

Like sandpaper can be

 

Five fat sausages

Sizzling in a pan

Threw it in his face

And his nose went bang

 

Remember remember the 5th of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot

We had our own fireworks

Divorce is what we got.

 

 

Do the Chicken Rap

I was on the farm

With my feathers and my beak

When I saw this bird who made my knees go weak

Went and had a chat

Thought I’d try my luck

She said “go away and cluck”

I’m not a chicken I’m a duck.

 

Do the chicken rap, you know you should

Do the chicken rap, it’ll make you feel good.

 

I wrote a dating add

That I sent to the press

I got no replies

Now my heads in a mess

I hate this farm

The only chicken, I’m alone

The last resorts

To snap my own wish bone

 

Do the chicken rap, you know you should

Do the chicken rap, it’ll make you feel good.

 

All I want is to sit and share

The water

And the corn

With romance in the air

It’s not gonna happen

It’s a real rough ride

So I’ll slice and dice myself

Chicken suicide

 

Eat the chicken wrap, you know you should

Eat the chicken wrap, it’ll make you feel good.

 

Paranoia Says…Mindfulness Replies…

Paranoia – The thought that my neighbours go to bed at the same time as me because they are spying upon me.

Paranoia – That feeling I get that the people who live on the other side of the road are spying on me as I make coffee and toast.

Paranoia – The cautiousness I have about talking on the phone because my phone is bugged.

Paranoia – That man talking on the phone, the one with the glasses. He’s watching me, following me and talking about me.

Paranoia – That car that just pulled up with the two men inside, that was on my street, in front of my home when I left this morning. Why are they following me?

Mindfulness – Naming. I am aware I am experiencing paranoid thinking.

Mindfulness – Acting opposite. I have decided not to follow the man who has been following me.

Mindfulness – Sharing. I have told a friend about my paranoid thinking because I know it will help me to gain a better perspective.

Mindfulness – Writing. I’ve written my experiences of paranoid thinking in my journal. Getting things down in black and white helps me to stop mentally creating the story of paranoia.

Paranoia – Shame. I don’t like to experience the feeling of shame, so I subconsciously create the story called “My Paranoia”.

Mindfulness – Meditation. I sit with my feelings of shame and say “Welcome shame, come and sit with me. Be as much or as big as you are”.

Mindfulness – Acceptance. When I accept my feelings, no matter how painful they are, I am far safer than when I create a story out of them.

Chasing the Dragon (Carnival Clown)

I went to my own carnival

A dragon it did smoulder

Chased it down, that line of brown

I wish I could have told ya.

 

I wish I could of told ya

Exactly how it felt

A cold hot breeze, down through my knees

I felt my body melt.

 

I felt my body melt

I was wrapped in a moist, warm womb

10 more hits, 10 lines of shit

Without them – just gloom.

 

 

My raspberry ripple, melted ice cream, rush

Has vanished, I’m now scuz

A knock comes loud, fall through my cloud

Bollocks – Fuck – Shit, it’s the fuzz.

 

Bollocks – Fuck – Shut, it’s the fuzz

The scag has now turned stale

I’m in a fix, I NEED a fix

I face a stretch in jail.

 

Inside is so much easier

I even get to eat

It wern’t like that in my dismal flat

I’ve landed on my feet.

 

I’ve landed on my feet

But the H is hard to score

I share a pin, and sell my skin

I am a heroin whore.

 

I was a heroin whore

Initially – what a rave

But six foot down, now whose the clown

In my six by three feet grave.

 

Royal Leisure – Nonsense

What is the life if full of care

The Queen she wears no underwear

No time stand beneath the boughs

While Charlie stops to talk with cows

No time to see when woods we pass

Where Harry grows his hemp and grass

No time to see in broad daylight

The Duke and Duchess have a fight

No time to turn at beauties glance

Look out, Phillips in his lovers stance

No time to wait till his mouth can

Offend the race of everyman

A poor life this is full of care

The Queen she wears no underwear

Just Simply – There is

When I let go of ideas about who you are and who I am – There Is

When I let go of reaction and the limitations of response – There Is

When preconceived ideas of how things should be compared to how they are – There Is

When FACTS, drop down to BELIEFS and beliefs turn into the realisation that nothing is actually known – There Is

Beyond thoughts and ideology, beyond shame and guilt, beyond love and peace and hopes and dreams – There Is