Mental Illness is Infectious

One moment you are there standing strong against the collective insaniety.  

Then the next  the legions of despair are on you, pushing you back,  sweeping over you.  

With just a little surprise, bafflement, really, before the horror envelopes you

You consider how your perfect shield just crumples with the onslaught

As you feel the spears of fear and swords of hate cut deep

You go under, the marching  boots of callous shame and self pity

Mental illness is infectious.

The armour given so many decades ago grew thin and weak countless  blows of illogic 

Even denial, the go to place failed you

The government is mad.  The mob is upon you. The officers all stood far back from the war.

Shooting their own from behind while in the distance generals toasted their victory in another loss.

The fear is coming now in endless lines money fueled greed. 

It never mattered what you believed. All lies in the ‘horror, the horror!’

Now looking up,  the boot heels, all past, your position over run, praying for relief in darkness,  

You surrender, Vanity, all is vanity. Meaningless and absurd. 

The pain is overwhelming, excruciating, relentless.

You went down one too many rabbit holes,  you lost your way

It really is a maize. The signposts left by Freud and Jung long fallen

You can’t bring any more back  from the underworld. The Gods have ruled. Doors are closed.

You like  Sisyphus doomed.

Mental Illness is infectious.

The King is dead. The Canabalism is returned. Strips of dreams and promises are torn from your flesh..

All your faith in you and me and thee is lost in gnashing teeth till there is simply no one.

Alone in darkness, afraid, angry,  helpless. Waiting for the light. They promised there would be light.

And gold watches and awards, medals and ribbons, titles and burial mounds.

The weight of humanity,  and anxiety bore you down.

The cruelty of the world, the lies and deceit, the money and greed,

It all overwhelmed you. 

I feel a heart still feintly beating. I feel blood is leaking on the once again fertile earth

I can’t get up. A shaft of wood pins me  like an insect in a child’s collection

No one cares. As far as the eye can see there are writhing dying, the still in grotesque tableau 

We once loved. We once loved and laughed.

Now we cry till tears run dry and moans silence. 

There is a time for every purpose

Mental illness is infectious.

In the end all I can say is,  sorry.

Waves of Internet

Waves of internet

Flow through me

Paranoia

Grandiosity

Information

Disinformation

Elite and poor

Breathe in

Breathe out.

Life dance

There is a dance the locals call life

The music goes to the beat of the heart

Like most things important it is taken for granted

Like breath

And passion

And love

Everybody’s got a somebody done me wrong story

Everybody’s got a somebody done me wrong story

Everybody has somebody to blame for their faults

Everybody claims they’ve a monopoly on suffering

Everyone says their pain is worst.

Everyone wants their time in the limelight

No one wants to step down from the Speaker’s box

Everybody wants the Camera on them and them alone

I just want to find my way back home.

Crying in obscurity

Calling out for the Maker of All

Twisting my mind away from seeing only negatives

Working all day to walk upright rather than just slither along

I’m an insect. I’m insentient. I’m weary and utterly bored

The morning light is a special time of hope and possibility

But I’m jaded, defeated,  wounded and struggling to hold on

I’m afraid, embarrassed,  ashamed and humiliated

But I’ll put on a happy face, wipe my own ass 

And be thankful for that. 

Hallelujah. A new day has dawned. 

Nostalgia hits

When nostalgia hits like an old piano slipping harness on a wooden staircase

I’m knocked to my knees

Breath caught in unfolding gasps of emotional pain

You flash before my eyes like yesterday

I’m no longer here

I’m in a rabbit hold of memory

Tears of worship and regret

Such sweet forgiveness.

I was there I say, I am here now.

We were young once

So cool

So hip, slick and cool

And the future was to be chased

Ideas were explosive

Faces left impressions like footprints on the moon

Love and youth and songs and colours and scents.

Not better times. Different times. Innocence. 

Not yet bittersweet, just sweet.

First time lovers

First time everything.

Walking on the beach

Her bikini

The mountain rising above me.  The day growing the climb continuing steps and hands

There were always girls

And family

And friends and dangerous times.

Exotic places

Near death.

There was meaning and not so much blood

Not so many hours of grief and tears.

The evil ones had not stood outside the jails of their minds forcing you into their little spiritual cages

Your wings hadn’t been clipped and your feet hadn’t been bust by hammers

You saw a morning like no other. The whales off the coast. The Galaxy above the Sierras.

The northern lights in the arctic.  Sun sets at sea. Trade winds

Tree forts.  Bicycling forever and ever

Mini skirts Lingerie. 

Smooth skin and smiles with laughter of friends. Dinner parties. Music.

Guitars and drums.  Tapestry.  The winter outside, the warmth in side.

Nostalgia hits.

I’m in my first surgery.

Nostalgia hits I’m hunting with my father.

I’m catching my first fish.

My mother is teaching me to pray on my knees beside my bed.

There are library and more libraries and places to explore.

Nostalgia hits and I’m out of this day and out of this moment

Like Petit mal

People are staring.

I’m sometimes talking about something mechanical here and now 

Only to find myself babbling about yesteryear looking at a moments of exquisite charm

Tears welling in my eyes.
It’s like I only just realized how many decades ago that was

Nostalgia hits
Below the belt.

Love loss

I’m afraid to let you know I love something

I’m afraid to let you know I love someone

I’m afraid to let you know I love

Or I will destroy 

Or you will destroy

Or it will be destroyed

I can’t trust again

I can’t cry again

I can’t lose again

I can’t hurt again.

I can’t love again.

I’m afraid to let you know

Old blind dog running

His little paws are twitching something fierce

Running full out on a beach or in a field

Like he used to do, 

the fastest little cockapoo that lived

Before he lost his eyes

When disease made him blind

Fate, Sad and terrible fate

In this world he plods

Lifting little legs high

Broadly placing paws

In this life he moves slowly

Carefully, cautiously

He stays with me

And I him

Now I’m watching as he runs 

His little twitching feet the tell.

In dreams, or another world

Somewhere in God 

There is reprieve

He runs so fast he flies

His soul lifting upwards

On eagles wings

Feeling Safe

I remember feeling safe

Falling asleep in front of the fire safe

With you there

Here was more than a place

There was time ahead

More so than behind

I believed

Like only the innoscent can

I was more naive than mean

Minimalist

Niggardly

Alone, afraid

The room was warm

We’d had a full meal

You and I and the saints and angels

In that other place

Where masked men 

Had not yet come

Daydreams and sweet dreams

Asleep

A cat on my lap

A book by my side

Before

Hello God

I’m awake again God.  A hard start. Two pushes on the snooze bar.

Now I’m preparing to ride my motorcycle into work. 

The weather report is no rain. 

Autumn morning chill is present.

I’ve taken to turning on the electric heater before meditating.

I make a space for you God. I call, “Holy Spirit Come.”

I ask for guidance. I say the Lord’s prayer.

I have had coffee.  Gilbert has eaten.  

I got more tunes to listen to on the motorcycle.

Walmart is selling the 70’s off at $5 a cd’

Greatest hits of the greatest of the greatest.

People asking me about the future. 

It seems so distance. Tomorrow is miles from now.

I don’t know. I don’t have any clear sign.

I’m winding down in some ways.

Wondering when I’m going to grow up.

Astonished how the time flies.

Wonder if I’ve ‘made something of myself.”

The ‘shame and blame’ low brow shallow arrogant authorities ,

That ‘lick up and kick below’ set, have me questioning 

My service, sacrifice and stats.

They’re emotionally unintelligent, spiritual absent.

“It’s just a job,” they say, 

Motivated by worldly power, ego, and pension. 

I seek service, adventure, challenge.

The Quest for the Holy Quail.

I’ve not been a one trick pony.

My focus on non compliance,

St. Paul’s I do what I don’t want to do

And Don’t do what I want to do

Ambivalence and Choice, trauma

And Freud’s Thanatos.

The elite don’t care about ‘lives saved’.

It’s all appearances.

I did suit up and show up. I filled a chair.

Today I’ll do that again.  

Take myself from here to there.  I wonder about this transit issue

I miss walking across the lawn to my clinic. Evading geese,

Rather than traffic jams.

I shared dreams with those who lied.

Looking back I see decades of relationship loss.

It doesn’t make sense God.

I’m here and don’t know where to go or what is coming.

I feel like I’m on the bench waiting for my play and the game is almost over

I’m going through the motions.  I’m putting in the time. 

I’m over the peak and on the downhill side.  

You’ve been there for me always. I’ve been beholden to you.

I’ve seen so many miracles and been blessed in so many ways.

I’m thankful for all the blessings.

I like that feeling of being in the flow.

I like being lifted on eagles wings.

I thank you for the holy book, the angels and the gifts.

I’m going to move towards the door.  

I ‘d like to play hooky, like high school.  

But the more I’m away, the less I desire to return.  

I’d a hankering for Africa, now wonder about Asia and South America.

I’d return to a number of places but feel after India I’ll be sated again for a while

I’ve books to write. Exercises to do.  I’d like to study more.

I’ve always liked learning.

I don’t like traffic so much.  I don’t like the stop and go.

I’m wearying of the commute.

I’m worrying too.  

I don’t like when I worry and the fears assail me.

With you on my side, and I’m on your side, I need not be afraid.

Do not be afraid, you commanded.

I’ll move now. I’ll put one foot in front of the other and get out the door.

It’s all easy once I leave.  Getting out the door is the challenge.

A hard start. I fessed the snooze bar twice this morning.

Enlightenment

In the joy of your being

My heart takes refuge

Your breasts nurture all creation 

I celebrate our presence

With hearbeats, chants and breath

The drumrolls of your meaning

Ring out in fragrance of pine and frankincense

I am euphoric, your hips birth ecstasy

The silence louder near to you

 I become a better version of myself 

We once were deep

She wears her ideas like a spring frock

Impressing her man of the year.

I’ve known her in leather and chains,

Turtle neck sweaters and little black numbers 

She wore to the opera.

She looks good in gowns and jeans.

But I love her best nude,

The way her mother loved her

And God.

I fear she’s forgotten God in this world.

Mansions, socialites, and easy money,

Stagnant waters  from  a holy spring.

Advent Rant

The insecure always demand imitation.
The unshared terror is that if everyone is not the same,
The tribe dies for the sins of the one.
You must believe as I do
Otherwise you’re in denial.

Superstitions, constructionism, satan in disguise,
Bad beurocrats, jaundiced judges, banal  bankers, agitated accountants,
the status quo rich, appeasing academics, humilitaring hierarchals,
pathetic politicians, devilish drug dealers, affectionate arms dealers,
Tobacco board members  and craven corporate lords,
Orchestrate and conduct, deaf to the music,
Celestial spheres and harmonics of conscience.

 The truest protest is poetic silence.
The encription in the pauses and stops,
SOS  in empty spaces aligned just right,
read from left to right.

What is said can and will be used against you.

I am myself unique in DNA ,but cut from the same cloth.
The apple never falls far from the tree.
The snake is never sleeping.

Wallace and Ataturk shake
Elvis sings a Christmas Carole
Bach is busy at the keys.

Hollywood festers.
The circus always  in town.
What goes on in refugee camps and palaces
Stays in refugee camps and palaces.

But I must act like you who are afraid.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
I wondered if I should wear a tie and asked if you did.

 South African farmers pay in blood
for those ignoring Nepal and  the Armenian crucified.
Again, why were they purposely sacrificed?
The Holocaust is but the champagne of sparkling wines.

Insufferable Canadian urbanites protest the latest subtle offence
Ignore the blood running in rivers
And fire ants descending on honey pots the world over.

Your fear is palpable
you are so disconnected
you do not feel your fear
or your anger

Offering heroin or assisted suicide,
you insist as always you offer “Choice"


Herod killed thousands of children
Hoping to kill the one.
You  aborted millions to save face.
How many saviours, Heisenbergs, holy men, Buckminster Fullers
And Madame Currie’s  did you kill
to create your fear of Climate Change.

Still He lives
Again we celebrate Christ MASS.
He lives. He dies. He is Risen.
Jesus Christ comes again.
I’m  guessing I'll wear the tie til then.


.

Crinoline and Blood

When I said I wore panties and liked the feel,
There was no blood
The blue wool dress hung straight;
But you said you liked the cammo fabric,
That felt  rough as war,
Spotted with blood,
Thankfully not my own
Though would it matter?
You prefer men that fight
Preferably in silks.
Crinoline and beards so unbecoming.
.

Holy Spirit Come

Come Holy Spirit Come

Emmanuel my lord, come to me

Fill me with your joy and presence

Remind me of the reason for living

Give me renewed purpose and meaning

Show me how I am to live these days of chaos

Lift me up on Eagles wings

Touch me, guide me, 

Holy Spirit Come

This season of Christmas

As the world here renews

The dying of the light and the coming of the light

Let myself be renewed in you.

Remind me of the baby that came into the world

To bring joy to the world

The Good News.

The love of mother and father 

The love in the world

The prevailing of right over wrong.

The foregiveness of sin

The promises 

The Sermon on the Mount

The Beatittudes.

Remind me what is real My Lord and Creator

Lift the veil from my eyes 

Protect me from the lies of the world

Help me align with the eternal 

Holy Spirit Come

Emmanuel, Emmanuel Come

Master of Mediocrity

He was a master of mediocrity

His might was in the mean

Judging others against his personal cowardice

Where his pride sat safest

In smiling obsequity 

Laughable in his arrogance

Deeply flawed

Safely denying

Unnaccountable by design

Rome burned and

He played air guitar

Stairway to Heaven

Highway to Hell..

Bit Part

I got a bit part in a B movie

And blew it

I fumbled the ball

In the farm league

Somewhere between praise and blame

I was a coward for your love. 

Nostalgic for dress rehearsals
Off key karaoke

Dropping the ball
In Pittsburgh 

Random Thoughts

I remember reading poetry

At sixteen,

In the Vincent Massey 

High School Library:

Raymond Souster,

Leonard Cohen,

Al Purdy,

Robert Service.

I was an odd boy,

Playing hockey

Beard to my fetish for words,

Pretty on a page,

Picked discretely,

E.E.Cummings wise;

Magee, High Flight.

I liked the words of warriors,

And lovers wrapped in rhyme,

Alliteration or just special,

By their place on the page..

I was young then.

Poetry was old and wise,

And friendly in a sometimes cold world,

Confused by hormones and war 

Vague futures and heaving breasts.

I loved poetry,

Studying theatre,

Reciting Shakespeare,

Surprised on reflection ,

At why in retrospect,

These bits of doggerel and sonnet

Touched me, called me, caressed me.

Later biblical verses , ancient psalms 

And Isaiah would as well.

I remember 

Writing my own bits of rhyme
Between classes,

On busses, in cafes;

The notebook , and pen
Always along

As friends,

Like poetry and poets.

I heard Al Purdy on the CBC today.

I remembered high school and college,

And her face and fur hat
And the snowflakes in the glow of the lantern,

Before we lay naked on the squeaky bed,
Oh,   the    squeaky     bed. 

New Day

Thank you God for this new day

Unblemished, unused, a blank slate

Let me colour it with love

Celebrate it with friendship and peace

Shout out it’s very being 

And say thank you all the way to nightfall.

Thank you, Thank you, Thnk you.

God I would know you more.

Jesus, servant king, may I wash your feet

Serve you as you serve me.

Let me always be aware of grace and sing the sacred

Open my eyes to the mystery and show me the true way.

Guide me in all my endeavours.

Make life an adventure rather than a chore.

Change my attitude and change my thoughts

Mould me and touch my soul

Holy Spirit come.

Help me help others

All glory is yours Lord.

Thank you, Thank you, Thank you

Autumn 2018

Autumn is upon us.  The leaves kaleidoscope with colour.

Having soared green all summer they finally Icarus.

Beside them the evergreens steady eddy.

The sun retreats, repulsed another year  by fat bodies  disrobed on beaches

And I am here, presuming to face another Canadian winter, 

The 40 days and 40 nights of rain have begun in Vancouver

Racist weather in it’s unforgiving whiteness begins to Viking from the north and attack the prairies

The east is deeply evil with Ottawa and Montreal and Toronto gripped by cement and madness.

Gossiping silly southerners continue to sully fake news with sex, sex and more sex

Doing it, not doing it, accused of doing it ,did it, watched it , with who, when

A choir of chimpanzees not yet out of the trees, what passes for advanced journalism

Perverts and dirty minded little lawyers with nothing else on their hands and minds but genitalia

Spaceships continue to pass and send messages back home galaxies away,

‘There is still no intelligent life form on the earth.’

The emotional stench of billions of aborted babies keeps the angels  catching falling angels

Occasionally a rainbow. A leprechaun in a Ponzi scheme cackles with a genie over 649.

 A drought, a flood, all blamed by aetheists on the breath of life

All the while denying higher things. Repent, repent, the street preacher cries out 

Recording a selfie of his own performance while we all learn to read  finally 

But only to text political obscenities and tribal grunts and sext

These are the silly days. Like all others.  The fall of summer, autumn and the cycle continues.

Récurrent like the beating heart, the tides of love.your face in my mind.

Beyond the deluge is the death of a saviour and his crucifixion follows just before spring

The cycle repeats itself. The life of one man, a species, a planet.  Lift up your hearts!

This too will pass but right now, this moment, this day, autumn plays.

Look up from your screen, feel the rain and wind.

Pay attention. Falling leaves and falling rain. Personal metaphors. 

Tomorrow snow men, making angels, then  we’ll all  congratulating our selves,

The sound of trumpets, sight of lilies and ladies in weird hats.

Death, rebirth, eternal life.  Conscious, unconscious. Dreams and wakes. Welcome weather.

I will not burden you with unseemly names but celebrate your progress as my own.  

Who ever would have thought we’d survive the heat and flies.

But we did. And will. Again and again. Like weather. 

Brave. Disciplined. Dutiful. Majestic. Humble.

Are we there yet?

Are we there yet?

Have I grown up ?

Did I make something of my life?

Have I succeeded?

Am I somebody?

Is this an achievement?

I feel I’m still alive and others are dead.  

Should I gloat?

I look about at old age and there’s survival.

I see survival everywhere.

There is irony in survival. 

Outliving the detractors.

Dancing on graves.

Laughing wickedly.

Running  to meet St. Peter.