15-05-2016 10:48 AM
15-05-2016 10:48 AM
Hi @Silenus yet again your poems have really touched me. Have you ever applied for a disability pension? That's what I'm on and it's so much easier than having pressure to look for work all the time. I got my Dr to help me apply for it and then spent 2 weeks or more making a list of all the different symptoms I had that filled an A4 page which I took to the ap't at centrestink. Centrelink then made me see a 'Commonwealth Doctor' which was terrifying but I told them that and I think they could see it too. I also showed them the page of symptoms. I think these days some of the hoops you have to jump through might be more than what I did but it might be worth finding out for you. And the pay is higher than Newstart and you also are still allowed to work up to 30 hours a week if you want to. Hoping this is helpful to you.
15-05-2016 11:32 AM
15-05-2016 11:32 AM
Thank you Silenus for the compliments about me helping you in some way. You have helped me a lot as well. We help each other. Other people have helped me before so that what is beautiful about social life is that sometimes, people that we meet will help us to better journey along our way.
From you, I have have laerned the importance of being humble.
15-05-2016 03:18 PM
15-05-2016 03:18 PM
15-05-2016 04:53 PM
15-05-2016 04:53 PM
15-05-2016 09:10 PM
15-05-2016 09:10 PM
16-05-2016 02:37 PM
16-05-2016 02:37 PM
this is what happened when i tried to write last night
its alot harder than just mind dumping
BLACK DAY
im standing on the edge of the abyss
and hiding now inside a dream
flames lick at my flesh from below
and nobody can hear me scream
im standing on the edge of the abyss
the place where the earth was destroyed
the guidance of the morning star
will lead our way out of the void
they say demons hide in the darkness
so i follow the bearer of the light
a fallen angel guides the way
to the new day through the night
he was gods favourite angel
and is known by many names
beelzebub satan the devil the beast
the carrier of the torch the keeper of flames
saint michael cast him out of paradise
but men cast him into hell
the snake who tempted us with knowledge
made not a sound as he fell
for he knew he had betrayed god
his master and his friend
so now he sits and he waits
for the fallen to rise again
17-05-2016 09:17 AM
17-05-2016 09:17 AM
Sometimes, words don't work properly, as the thoughts in our heads race too fast or become ridiculously fragmented beyond our ability to follow. This usually happens to me when my hypomania goes flying way too high - I can no longer keep up with the thoughts. These thought storms just sweep me away, similar in nature to my mood storms, perhaps even the flip side of the same coin...
This poem tries to capture one such thought storm that I had...
Thought Storm
Guilt… storm… regret… rains… down… cold… drops… but… bounces…
back… up… the… drain… …
17-05-2016 09:20 AM
17-05-2016 09:20 AM
This poem tries to capture what it sometimes feels like for my bipolar hypomania to climb ever higher, especially at the point where you really start to lose your connection with everything around you...
The reality of my thoughts, my moods, replaces the mundane reality of the physical world around me...
I Fell off the Earth Today
I fell off the Earth today,
Lost my balance and floated away;
I tried to grab a branch or rock,
Anything with which my arm to lock;
My desperate flailing did not connect,
As I continued to show gravity no respect;
Higher and higher, I rose and rose,
My next destination? No-one knows;
For a while I calmly enjoyed the view,
Not really caring where I flew;
Thinner and thinner became the atmosphere,
I could no longer breathe, yet showed no fear;
Squinting through the infinite dark of space,
Distance soon will this small Earth erase.
17-05-2016 09:23 AM
17-05-2016 09:23 AM
We hear about burning the midnight oil, or burning the candle at both ends, or burning out. I often think of my energy levels and my mood states in terms of burning. Sometimes, there is a tiny flame that sputters and nearly goes out. Other times, it is like the core of an out-of-control nuclear reactor.
The fuel we burn is our own. When we run out of fuel, the highs are transformed to profound lows, until once again we can gather ourselves together, and set the spark to a new pile of fuel...
Fuel
I am the white-hot fire within.
I burn to cleanse,
I burn to destroy,
I burn to create,
I burn as a beacon in the night.
My fuel is my own.
17-05-2016 09:25 AM
17-05-2016 09:25 AM
Five months after my mother died, I felt this profound emptiness. This poem, rather succinctly, tries to capture that feeling of emptiness... 🙂
Empty
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SANE values diversity. We are committed to providing a safe, culturally appropriate, and inclusive service for all people, regardless of their ethnicity, faith, disability, sexuality, or gender identity.
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