The Colours of Schizophrenia Read online

CHAPTER 5 Metamorphosis

  Turned To Stone

  I turned to face the distance

  and there was a rigid air of

  loneliness and discomfort in my bones.

  And there was an empty chair for

  all my friends at my birthday party;

  perhaps they forgot to come again,

  like last year. Love used to be

  so easy. Now there’s only

  a concrete crown of thorns

  on my head. I try to smile,

  but it’s as if everybody knows when

  to laugh and when to cry. And

  my family sees me like an

  ornament on the mantle-piece.

  I’m not an ordinary and animate

  person anymore; spiritually there is

  a battle raging within. The giants of

  depression and psychosis are at war with

  my heart, which has turned to stone.

  Waiting For Her

  Years alone spent without rest, though

  in the company of everyone

  Hiding from the pain and standing tall,

  waiting for a woman

  Learning from inspiration in a world so

  beautiful and yet darkened in hue,

  Yearning to exalt honour with family,

  waiting for her devotion

  Peace may offer me a chance, and yet,

  there is romance in passions of war

  Conflicts of true demand in sun and shade,

  waiting for her affection

  Born of Earth and dust to try and abide

  with his glorious devotion and zeal,

  knowing also of flesh and blood and

  waiting for her body

  Doubts are there in plenty, and

  confidence is sometimes a thorn in his side

  Relying on strength and patience,

  waiting for the truth

  Always the questions are simple, and yet

  complexity is the answer to our lives

  Searching for a hope and to be part of life,

  waiting for her love!

  The Laughter

  When is it time to laugh?

  To be funny and break the rules?

  When animals do crazy things,

  and grown-up people act like fools,

  it’s normal to want to poke fun

  With a whole new way to think,

  why don’t we laugh at our mistakes

  if we start to reach the brink?

  So there need not be a commotion,

  when we’re playing silly games

  Is humour not the medicine

  that helps ease our life’s refrain?

  Shine

  I want the world to

  shine — not like the ‘clowns’

  who live in a cartoon world.

  Why can’t somebody tell congress

  that the kids in school need a break?

  The news is always on — why can’t

  I stop listening to its pain? For there’s

  a light that shines in the sky; it’s always

  there, reminding us to start the day.

  If one act of random kindness can

  make people happy, how is it

  over 6 billion births had no effect?

  Perhaps it did, for the birds still

  sing, the flowers still bloom, the

  ships have sails, the bees have honey.

  Even if the world shrinks by a billion,

  there are still 5 billion reasons

  to smile and to shine

  The Church Dreams

  The church is the body

  of Jesus Christ — but its people

  have forsaken mine

  Once my illness was

  likened to bad spirits and

  I spoke in my darkest

  hour.......

  You are not my saviour

  You are not my redeemer

  You are not my protector

  You did not bow down to me

  You did not bend your knee

  You did not rescue me when

  I was lost in dreams,

  I was lost in dreams,

  I was lost in dreams.

  You are not my Father

  Your did not wipe away my tears

  You did not hear my voice

  when I was lost dreams,

  When I was lost dreams,

  When I was lost dreams.

  When I walked away, you

  turned your back on me

  when I was lost in dreams,

  when I was lost in dreams,

  when I was lost in dreams.

  And when I’m in my coffin,

  and my dreams are second best,

  they won’t resurrect my spirit —

  My nightmares never rest!

  Voice of Dreams

  Life’s little

  twists and turns

  of man’s ‘internal voice’

  is a danger for some

  who have no choice.

  We all ‘whisper’ or

  ‘shout’ to the

  conscience of our

  own minds,

  but when our lives go

  wrong, we draw

  the line. Darkness

  clouds the eye of an

  ancient soul.

  Even the simplest

  of ‘dark thoughts’

  may cause society’s

  withdrawal. Learn to

  regain that ‘inner voice’

  within, or life will be

  full of a worldly sin.

  Paranoia

  Don’t be afraid

  of us. We live our lives and celebrate

  the joy of incandescent highs

  in the world. There is romance inside

  our hearts, and music is in our eyes.

  The only paranoia we fear is in

  the misconception of a threat -

  but our minds are made to love,

  even if they scar our souls. And a

  perceived threat is just as

  powerful as a real one.

  Homelessness

  We were made

  perfectly, not that so others

  could take advantage

  of us and be trampled on.

  We have a light inside

  our eyes that was not

  created to see despair,

  unless the faded lies of

  paper dreams are real.

  Nothing makes my

  heartbeat miss anymore.

  The ‘red light’ of my

  halo has dissolved.

  We were given a

  promise to live

  forever, but we cut

  ourselves so we can

  die. Now they walk past

  me when I’m drowning. We

  were made to laugh and

  the streets of homeless

  angels make us weep.

  The pale reflection

  in the mirror is

  more than a face

  Now it is one big scar

  that unites this

  growing army.

  We were made to

  love, but all we know

  is suffering. And even

  the beds of Bethlehem

  are full —where are

  my rights? Can you

  spare a penny for

  me and my troubles?

  Are the stars going

  out in your life?

  Olanzapine

  Oh you of truest wonder,

  who has led me back

  to the end of the maze!

  Your power has opened

  up my senses, but didn’t

  take away my haze

  You have undone my

  paranoia’s eclipse with a

  beautiful morning light,

  but the demons of

  metabolic craving has

  cursed my appetite

  Fear

  There is a cloud of decep
tion

  that speaks to the mind,

  and blocks out the sun.

  She tricks logic and turns

  energy into a plague of

  thoughts. Why can’t her

  spider’s web be extinguished

  by medication? Must our

  cries be alone in the

  silence? Her poison

  heart paralyses

  her victims.

  Meditation

  The tides of

  meditative thoughts

  calm the brain and

  the mind, while the

  curious flames of

  Samsara affect the

  the blinding light

  of mystery.

  My soul is waiting

  to be uncovered

  from dreams and

  delusions

  Regret

  It’s easy to ‘let go’,

  and to dream of hopeless

  eternity, and allow the days

  of our youth to fade away. It’s

  wise to be honest, and try to

  be sincere, and have a cup

  of kindness for the sake of Auld

  Lang Syne. But life has tricks

  and traps to ensnare the mind,

  and the crowd does not seem to

  be aware. And we must learn

  the lessons of history - yet

  what of regret? Where does

  her power lie? And why does

  she plague our souls?

  Perhaps the blind man who

  has no eyes will always

  show us the way!

  I Found Myself

  In the pit of my soul,

  where the ‘mocking birds’ live,

  amongst the lions and the charlatans,

  I stumbled. At the table where

  they played their ace cards

  and collected their winnings, I

  searched. Encircled by

  the hyenas, who attacked me at

  first sight of blood, and the ‘clowns’

  whose sad faces weep and yet laugh

  the most, I marched — until I

  found a light that shone through to

  the hearts of men, and showed

  me a path where the beauties

  at the West End could hear my

  true voice at last! In the chasm of

  darkness, where only

  the ‘wrecked ships’ of old

  have sailed, there stood

  a figure whom I have always

  known but seldom loved. And it

  was there I sat with destiny,

  and I found myself!

  The Bells

  Fear has spoken to me

  once more. Stealing my senses,

  she seems to laugh sadistically.

  My heartbeat is staccato and

  these bloodshed eyes are sealed,

  like the walls around a castle gate.

  It is night time in the Garden

  of Eden, where I long to be,

  but I am full of original

  sin. And the stars appear

  duller, my emotions are flatter,

  and my tired voice is weaker.

  What is to become of me?

  Oh, jealously and guilt will not

  kill the shadows of fear with

  these selfish endeavours.

  The bells of doom begin to toll,

  and all I can hear is the sound of

  its lonely music that

  drowns out the pleasures of life.

  I beg of you Notre Dame — release

  me from your power. The

  solitary woes of clairvoyant pain

  have become your speciality.

  I Don’t Pray Anymore

  You know that the

  seasonal affects of light and

  darkness has altered your mood.

  You are more irritable than usual,

  like a piece of food stuck in your

  mouth there is no escape, the air

  in your lungs is shallow, and

  you feel yourself suffocating. What

  prayer is there for a man who needs

  oxygen to breathe before he dies?

  The body is slowly dissolving, you start

  to panic, and then after a lack of

  sympathy your high blood pressure

  has become etched all over your

  back. There is no reward, nothing to

  live for. No human has ever escaped

  this trap, left only for you!

  Schizophrenic

  Schizophrenia

  is an illness that

  prevents its insights

  and elevations of

  thoughts to be

  heard. And when

  will his voices be

  convicted in colourful

  rainbow dreams?

  Perhaps the answer

  to this question

  is when enough

  ‘dreamers’ are

  awoken.

  ***

  NOTE TO READER:

  Thank you so much for

  reading my ebook. Schizophrenia is

  a complex illness, thanks for your

  time and patience. Visit my

  blog for more poetry,

  and to buy a paperback (version)

  of this ebook.

  https://www.schizophreniapoetry.com

  Thie ebook was featured in

  Cutting Edge Psychiatry in Practice,

  in partnership with SEPT

  South Essex Partnership Trust (NHS)

  David Holloway (c)