24-09-2015 09:41 AM
24-09-2015 09:41 AM
Lunar Cycle. Lunatic.
Rapid cycling.
A tidal phenomenon.
A physiological imperative.
Broken bio-chemistry.
Might as well be pulled by the moon.
Lunar cycle. Lunatic.
Here it comes, that tide of despair,
pulled to my shore,
the waves, pounding.
Worthless. Hopeless.
Nothing. Nothing to live for.
Love does not ameliorate.
Just sit through it.
Try not to act.
Don't act on the impulse that says.
"Die".
No thought preceded it.
Nothing can be done.
The tide is a natural phenomenon.
A moon's pull on the ocean of hopelessness.
Then, on the wane, again.
Irritated at the sound of the bird's singing.
Or, grimacing at the comment of love expressed
by one who does, love me.
As the tide turns,
the wet sand, the underbelly of the ocean exposed
~ one's nerves scream ~
Leave me alone. Alone. Alone.
I am so, Alone.
My ship rocks on the
waves of despair once more.
A ghost ship.
Alone on an ocean swelling.
Buffetted about.
Sails tattered.
The perfect storm.
Then,
Relief and optimism stand on the shore.
Beckoning,
Come home, come home...
They call me in.
Safety in this cove.
Oh, a cove of relief.
I can be calm and centred.
For a while. Whole,
Loving the bird's song.
Being. Loving. Breathing.
The tide is a natural phenomenon.
A moon's pull on the ocean of hope.
There is so little free will in the
tyranny of physiological changes.
Lunar Cycles. Tide turns. Energy leaps.
Oh! how shiny and wonderful this idea.
Better than any idea before.
Must act on this. NOW.
I can save the world.
If only they would listen,
Listen! Hark, the Herald Angel sings.
I Am the Herald Angel.
Listen! Be the change.
Save The planet, she needs us now.
Whatever, the message is today.
Do it! For the Love of love.
Harken to me, because I know.
I have two-sights seeing.
Lunacy, but truth nonetheless.
Focused and furious to get 'it' done.
No sleep, keep working.
Sell the idea, swell the movement.
Done well, high functioning.
Successful, for a little while.
Oh, no...
I can feel the drag of the tide at my heels
already, sucking at my success.
Then, on the wane, again.
Irritated at even the sound of the bird's singing.
Rapid cycling. Pain roars.
A tidal phenomenon.
A physiological imperative.
Broken bio-chemistry.
Might as well be pulled by the moon.
Lunar cycle. Lunatic.
_________________________
~ By Moon Gal ~ Living with Bi Polar ~
Image attribution: bonbaden [dot] info
24-09-2015 12:19 PM
24-09-2015 12:19 PM
Wow @MoonGal, so powerful and acurate as to how bipolar controls our lives, all the ups and downs, for no reason, i so wish i could express myself in poems, i just don't have the imagination with words, please keep writing these beautiful poems, it is so nice to read how others are experiancing what i am.
Thank you so much for sharing such an intimate poem on the forums.
Take care, be kind to yourself
Jacques
24-09-2015 04:55 PM
24-09-2015 04:55 PM
Hi @MoonGal
I'm Shimmer, one of the SANE moderators. I just wanted to wish you a very warm welcome to the Forums 🙂
Thank you so much for sharing your poem. I found it beautiful, insightful and moving.
I look forward to hearing more of your wonderfully unique voice around the Forums.
Shimmer 🙂
09-10-2015 11:06 AM
09-10-2015 11:06 AM
09-10-2015 02:42 PM
09-10-2015 02:42 PM
09-10-2015 03:02 PM
09-10-2015 03:02 PM
09-10-2015 03:21 PM
09-10-2015 03:21 PM
AlienBP2 Hey you! Brill knock out of a snapshot of BP, love the lines
"Somehow the silence is comforting
You just don't want to cry or sing
Even though neither state is the real thing..."
Or both are, eh? Evrything is the real thing to us when we live with BP.
I laughed with you about the guitars, kayaks... Yeah I have 'enthusiams' that come in waves too. I was interested in language and had lined up aLatin teacher, woke up went, oh, no, Latin? FFS! Luckily depite their confusion the Latin teacher took my cancellation in good spirits.
And I used to have the bankroll, but no more this deep thing broke me beyond the capacity to work now, so I have to content myself with enthusiams for little things and concepts... like clothing ''colours', llike only wearing black and white for months on end, only eating white (or very pale) coulred foods at the same time... and for scents...buying a particualr scent of soap and using that for weeks and weeks, before suddenly, it's not a 'thing' any more. I just embrace them now, usually spotting about 4 days in that I am 'on a roll', at least now I catch myself. My main and very expensive obsession was travel, that too has come to an end. I have lived a rich and varied life made harder but also much more colourful because of my BP.
There is a brill book by Kay Redfield Jamison about the people who have had creative genius fuelled by mental ill health - called
I bought it in a BiPo shopping spree, yet to be read, but your response prompted me remembering that I have it! Thanks! Definately worth your suggestion for any of us - to wake up our creative selves, even just for 'ourself' - write, photogrphy, painting, poetry, mosaics dance, whatever shakes our chakras. keep on writing Alien, you have a fine 'pen'...
09-10-2015 03:23 PM
09-10-2015 03:23 PM
09-10-2015 03:48 PM
09-10-2015 03:48 PM
09-10-2015 03:56 PM
09-10-2015 03:56 PM
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