A Journey from Hell: A Documentation of Life and Death – A Poem

Laid broken,
Among the rusted machines,
Of that madness stated,
In works,
Placed at the feet of those ancient statues.

The world seen through sarcastic eyes,
Dreams unfulfilled,
Jesus Christ,
Dying on those railroad tracks,
Why is the bus late again?

Bar men sleeping,
Broken backs,
Too many naps,
Lapse in judgement,
Oh sorry,
My fellow man,
My soul is dead,
Can’t be bothered,
With your petty needs.

Lifeless,
Degenerate whores,
Lying there,
Feelings gone,
Eyes drawn back,
That wicked smile gone,
Lost,
Childhood innocence gone,
Cheap wine,
Smoky room,
Dollar ninety five,
Old bottle busted,
There,
Next to the broken chair,
The bottle’s edge,
Broken glass,
A razor blade,
Cutting into the flesh,
Bringing forth the rains,
To a dusted plain,
Plane?
Bring forth the summer grapes.

Sad stories,
Reality,
Read on stage,
By defeated clowns,
Goodbye treason,
Hello reason?
I get confused,
Thanks for the hand shake.

Withering life,
Rotting on the vines,
Cast aside,
Shame,
Waves,
Is this the end,
My only friend?

You should see the majesty,
Sunrises over the breaking waves,
Dashed upon the shores of infinity,
Dare to feel the wind,
Upon bended knee,
The body broken,
The spirit still free,
I am dying,
Born to die,
To live,
On some borrowed time,
Nobody,
My friend,
Gets out of here,
Alive.

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MY LETTER TO THE WORLD – A POEM

Dear world,
Oh blessed,
Cursed,
Beautifully disgusting world,
You gave me everything,
That first breath,
You gave me nothing,
Ripped out that sweet love from my arms,
You gave me that vision of the stars,
High above,
But then showed me that vision,
Hell, to Fall,
From that Heaven’s grace.

That deep pain,
Heartless now,
Bitter
Filled with rage,
I love you world,
I hate you world,
Fuck you world,
I wish for life,
And you give me death,
Oh cursed,
Blessed world,
Good night!

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Note to my reader — New podcast, more focused on my humorous side of the coin, should rename it to Bipolar Express but for now, Random Podcast! Click here — RANDOM PODCAST — available on 6 different sites including Spotify, Google and Radiopublic! No poetry YET! But maybe soon!! ~grin~

Standing in the middle of a suicide – Poem and self promotion

I stood at the edge of madness,
Trying to find myself
Failing miserably,
You were my everything,
I found myself,
There,
At the kitchen sink,
Ready to slit my wrists,
The only thing,
Stopping me,
Was those,
Who cared for me!

Note: My self promotion — I have a pod cast. Random Podcast @ https://radiopublic.com/random-podcast-Ww9Re0 – hope you enjoy!!!!

I WROTE THIS BLOG FOR YOU –

Sitting here, 11 pm, thinking about you, and those good memories, mixed with the bad, still make me smile.

I wish you were here, to see what I’ve become, the travelling down the road, without you by my side, like we planned on to do, forever and ever, there for each other.

But things happen, death happens, life goes on for the living, you, still young and happy, me, old and okay, I guess, won’t say I’m happy but I’m not doing bad.

Good times, mixed with okay, swirled in with the bad, just to make life exciting, bumps in the road, keeping it real.

I sip life as if it is a fine wine, to savior, in that midnight hour, to feel it with great pride.

Depression, that strange beast, wanders into my life, to kiss me, to embrace, hold me under those waves, trying to drown me in sadness.

I break free for a few minutes and break through, breathing, those greats rush of air, filling my lungs, to be pulled back one more time.

A CONFESSION OF A DEPRESSED POET – CHAPTER ONE

I didn’t hate myself, like the doctors said, I hated man kind, what the world was turning into, madness without the fucking.

Fuck the system.

I was sitting up, throwing up, red liquid, from the bottom of my stomach, trying to remember where I was.

St. Elwood Hospital, ward b, according to the nurse standing near me, writing down something on a board.

Midnight.

More vitals.

“You tried to kill yourself Mr. Jones…”

Words coming from somewhere, maybe outside reality, where was I again?

Ward B. Second floor.

Words.

Nothing.

Woke up, 3 pm, threw up again, this time from my liver, my pancreas was in there, swimming in the bucket.

Who was I?

Mr. Jones….David….said so on the board in my room.

Was this a dream? A nightmare? Please let it be a nightmare, wake up man wake the fuck up!

There I was, lying on the floor, naked, my wrists were slit, blood, this was a memory, some days before, there, in my brain, screaming out, “You stupid loser!! You’d fucked up a wet dream asshole!!”

I cried.

Lonely.

There the day before, I and my long time love had broken up, well, she had broken up with me, loser, she hissed the word at me, threw the engagement ring I gave her back at me and stormed off.

It was a Tuesday.

Black Tuesday, some year.

Two days later, advanced forward, sitting in the Ward’s sun room watching birds sitting on the window ledge.

Fuckers were mocking me.

This was my life, sitting in a chair, looking out the window, wondering if I could fly.

Maybe someday I would try….

Blessed Rain: A Poem

Oh blessed rain,
Onto the ground you fall,
To wash the tears away,
To cleanse the soul.

In that dream,
We fled,
Reality,
Behind us,
Drifting away,
To be torn to shred,
To not be read,
Oh soulless,
Weeping,
Night.

There in silence,
We screamed,
Into darkness,
We did see,
Our true selves,
Our realities.

A Line from a Play – Vertigo in Red – A Poem from an Insane Asylum

Photo by Simon Simberg on Pexels.com

Oh Dearest,
This, I dare not speak thy name,
Do you not hear the wind?
The silence,
In that darkened room,
Too square,
The light in the hall,
Flickering madly,
As to say,
Here I am!
Here I am!
Oh mother,
Oh madness,
Do you not hear me screaming,
Inside myself?

Madness,
That sweet embrace,
Of troubled mind,
To sweep that darkness,
From thy life,
Is this the reality,
Or just another delusion,
Of that troubled mind?

I find myself flying,
Hale was there,
Smiling,
As he always did,
Psychotic break,
The doctors say,
He sits there in the corner,
His knees pressed against his chest,
“Maybe! Maybe! Mother may I!”
He repeats.
Repeats.
The nurses sigh,
“Pills!” they chirp.
We devour them,
And I fly,
Just there,
On the ceiling,
Oh Madness,
You are my only friend,
The rest,
Oh dear friend,
I tolerate,
Chirping nurses,
Doctors,
Old lady,
Here since 1963,
I fall from that sky,
The floor breaking my fall,
I skin my knee.

Giants roam the planet,
Taking large angry steps,
Rushing towards me,
Terror I scream,
They run faster,
I try to stand,
To fly away,
They catch me,
I feel that prick,
Softly,
Falling asleep,
Into a dreamless sleep,
Rest,
Peace,
Is this the end?

I awake,
Chirp,
“How are you Mr. Fields?”
I smile,
I nod,
I agree,
To what,
I have no idea,
Chirp.
Smile.
Nods.
They leave.
I stand.
Legs weak,
I settle into a chair,
Chirp.
“Breakfast!”
I eat.
I shit.
I die.
But slowly.
Not like Susie,
Who died,
Fell asleep,
Never woke,
July 12th,
It was a dreary day,
Night,
Rain was falling,
Today was a bright,
Sunny day,
Oh my head,
Scream.

Chirp.

“Please…”

I fear.
I close my eyes.
Those eyes,
Oh fright…

Oh morning,
My dear day,
When it finally comes,
That hard rain,
We shall surely,
Be washed away.

Good night…

A song to kill the last goodbye – A Poem

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By the time I saw her face,
I was too far gone,
Far from that place,
That I called home,
Living for the pleasure,
And the misery of shame.

Rolling on the highway,
In a broken down Chevy,
My last dime,
Gone to Heaven,
And a bottle of Jack.

Why die,
When you can live a great life instead,
Old men dying for something worth fighting for,
Jesus dying with the Rolling Stones playing on the throne.

I got bills to pay,
And nothing left to give,
I ain’t got no time to be sad,
Running light,
Flying right,
Playing faith,
In time today,
Ain’t got time to play the saint,
When I’m going to Hell,
Flying high,
In the time,
Going no place,
Fast.

Memories: A Sweet and Delightful Breakdown – An insight into madness: A POEM

Photo by Karl Starkey on Pexels.com

Not my usual take on misery and space, delightful culling,
Of memories, liner notes, tossed throughout the room,
Read viciously but without malice,
Those words, so ripe and ready, written at 12:45 in the morning.

Lions?
Tigers?
Bears?
Oh my,
How did we get here?
Can you tell me?
Can you tell me with delight?
Did we get so turned around,
We ended up in some twisted novel,
A broken love story?

Oh dear!

Oh my!

Oh my wretched brother,
If we were in different times,
We would not be foes,
But friends,
Comrades,
Yes, a comrade,
I would call you brother,
A friend,
Comrade.

Who there,
Is knocking at my memories,
To be let in?

The door does not open,
The key is broke inside.

How?

I, one blustery, rainy night,
I turned it too hard,
Trapping us all inside,
Like rats,
Stuck on a sinking ship,
Trying to claw our way out.

Fifth.

The sounds of drums,
Against the howling winds,
Oh misery,
You accursed bitch,
Go fuck off,
You make me thin,
Brittle,
Weak,
Fuck off.

Fuck this.

Where do we go from here?
Up the downside,
Like some diseased whore,
On Fifth and Vine?

Memories,
Memories,
Oh dear sweet memories,
When dark turns to light,
Then reverts as quickly back to darkness,
Oh memories, my sweet love,
Come to me,
In dreams,
Fantasies,
Disbelief,
And let my mind,
Bastardize,
Glorify,
Of what really happened.

We kissed on that moon lit night.

Or did we fuck?

I forget.

I digress.

Memories.

Dear sweet memories,
Oh joy,
Oh sad tears,
An ode,
A sentence of life,
No chance for parole.

To dream.

To live,
There,
In satin cloth,
To dream,
Oh dear,
Blessed sleep,
That fair night,
That moon,
Swaddling me,
Embracing me,
Goodnight,
Till we meet again,
Oh my dear,
Goodnight.

From there Hell was born — A Poem

Photo by Asaph Guedes on Pexels.com

To strike,
Hard against those howling winds,
Maddening winds,
To rip that flesh from brittle bones,
To expose that soul to that misery,
To never see that brilliant sun rise again,
To dash us,sh
Those the followers,
The leaders,
The brilliant mad men,
Those mere mortals
Against that broken,
Rocky shore,
To tear,
Oh dear life,
Our only life,
From our weary souls,
Does not,
Happiness,
Oh sweet drink of wine from that cup of life,
Lie upon those distant shores?

Oh angel,
We your followers,
Seek that answer,
Troubled waters,
Deep ahead,
We pray,
To make it,
Ashore!