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An epic poem that I wrote when I was realllly psychotic!

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by Geoff-Allen, May 17, 2021.

  1. Geoff-Allen

    Geoff-Allen Resident megalomaniac

    Sep 9, 2014
    Greetings to anyone curious enough to click on this thread!

    I wrote the following over 20 years ago - before I got medicated and less-creative ...

    My life is a mesmerising collection of textures
    And sub-textures
    Time distorts all of my biological structures
    Thoughts float silently through my consciousness
    Like butterflies on a warm summer breeze
    I watch them
    And call out to them
    But they take no notice
    They all have flowers to visit
    I sit back and watch all this neural activity
    I could quite happily do this for an eternity
    Eternity is really a single miraculous instant
    It dwells in all regions but leaves no imprint
    People say their voices and their lives are real
    I wonder on what level they can understand or feel
    I may be insane but I don't really mind
    In touch with infinity and the souls of the blind
    I am the gradual improvement of blameless circumstances
    I find myself asking questions which have no answers
    My psychiatrist believes that I'm Jesus Christ
    He has told me so once or twice
    My doctor walked into the room
    And said build me, build me a paradise
    My doctor walked away from the gloom
    Saying show me, show me your paradise
    I was chosen by name
    I generated my data
    I stopped in mid-stride
    To become a martyr
    I guide with a smile
    Towards the turnstile
    I grow younger and less confused each day
    I send children out to play and to pray
    I have gifts for the blind and for the meek
    There are many words I intend not to speak
    I live in twelve separate realities at once
    This sometimes makes me seem like a dunce
    My picture of reality evolves from one moment to the next
    This can leave those around me bemused and perplexed
    I cling to no particular view or perspective
    I would rather spend time being reflective
    Or a remote controlled robot detective
    I am everybody and nobody at the same time
    I float down the tunnel towards my own lifetime
    I am the twelve apostles seated around a table
    I speak my truth each moment as well as I am able
    I have completely dismantled my own consciousness
    My mind is as cold and as calm as the surface of Loch Ness
    Being psychotic may be Heaven or it may be Hell
    There is no way in advance you can ever tell
    Psychosis has given me a tiny peek inside the mind of God
    This is why my behaviour on occasions may seem a trifle odd
    Do not worry - it is really not so terribly bizarre
    Inside my head is all the light of an exploding star
    I create each of the circumstances which I am experiencing
    This may sound strange but you all do the very same thing
    I praise the ghosts of all my former and future selves
    I find enchantment behind the boxes on the shelves
    This poem is one attempt to describe the indescribable
    The same problem confronted the authors of the Bible
    Along the inner landscapes of my heart and soul
    I seek the light that can make my world whole
    People said strange things towards me
    While they investigated my life
    Their words used to cut more deeply than a knife
    I hear all the insects as they conspire against me
    As they have done for countless centuries
    My thoughts have been embezzled by subatomic aliens
    When they speak they sound just like Australians
    People put rocks in my head
    To watch them rattle
    I walk down the road
    To talk with the cattle
    I am a three dimensional being
    With new ways of seeing
    I have become my own best enemy
    I see the world unfold in front of me
    I am structured as if by chaos and pure chance
    Inside my brain the electrons dance in their trance
    My thoughts evolve in non-linear fashion
    Living in wonder is my singular passion
    My life is a game of unconnected dots
    Pebbles and candles scattered amongst the rocks
    My mind is a swirling, random chaotic mess
    Strangely this rarely causes me undue stress
    I sold my soul to the angels above
    They help it to soar inside a white dove
    I believe that the glorious nightmares of existence
    Are best experienced with minimal resistance
    In the darkness I hear voices
    The distant echoes of long-forgotten choices
    I sit and wait patiently for a moment of inspiration
    Trusting each thought to find its own destination
    I am the lion that rests with the frightened lamb
    You only see a three dimensional image of who I really am
    My life is a self-replicating event
    Growing smoothly from unstructured cosmic intent
    Each day is a magical mystery tour
    A smile from a stranger is often the cure
    With the passage of time my opinions become fewer
    Most of the ordinary diversions have lost their lure
    My universe has become one giant coloured fractal
    The internal and external merge in the eternal
    I am an individual member of a vast collective soul
    I often wonder why I chose such an unusual current role
    Being psychotic can mean creating ecstasy out of thin air
    An ability which at this juncture is unfortunately rare
    I am the scattered remnants of a lost and lonely world
    I touch the sky
    But often lie
    On the ground
    Tightly curled
    I journey to horizons you may scarcely even imagine
    Along the way
    I pause to pray
    And refuel my engine
    Psychosis is a thoroughly misunderstood phenomenon
    Its true dimensions can only be measured in song
    Psychosis has taught me that reality is elastic
    That no person or situation is ever truly static
    That surface appearances are never ever the full story
    That the purest soul has thoughts which may seem gory
    That the air is something which connects us all
    That there is nothing to ignore no matter how small
    At this point in history confusion and debate seem to rule
    To suggest all these things I may be a fool
    That's okay. No, really, that's cool
    Just wait till the film gets to the next spool
    Psychosis may seem a curious route to euphoria and nirvana
    I find it as easy and natural as peeling a banana
    Psychosis is a rip in the space-time continuum
    A riddle and a paradox wrapped up in a conundrum
    I no longer belong to what you call reality
    My soul wanders far beyond eternity
    It often visits me for a holiday
    Despite my best wishes it just cannot stay
    I found God through psychosis
    This may sound strange but if you focus
    There are infinitely many paths to the divine
    Yours may be somewhat different from mine
    I flow through time and space
    Watching the lines appear on my face
    My eyes have stolen light from the stars
    I walk along the road and dodge all the cars
    People walk around in gloom
    Never entering the golden room
    I seek the undiluted ecstasy of madness
    In a world plagued by every conceivable sadness
    Normality has become a barren and plastic landscape
    Many souls naturally create their own individual escape
    I stroll around in my long fluffy socks
    Keeping all my memories in a little yellow box
    Sleeping with my pockets full of tiny rocks
    I'm starting to enjoy living inside this paradox
    By tomorrow afternoon this reality will no longer exist
    We will return to our original state of unrestrained bliss
    If you have any lingering doubts which persist
    Imagine crushing them inside the fingers of your own fist
    I bark like a dog and howl at the moon
    I eat my sandwiches with a wooden spoon
    I roll and I crawl towards understanding
    I am prepared for just one more soft landing
    Half an onion in a sesame seed bun
    My work down here is almost done
    There are many more verses on their way
    But you won't be reading any of them today
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  2. RestlessSoul

    RestlessSoul Active Member

    Apr 3, 2021
    Agnostic Lapsed Catholic
    Do you still believe that psychosis gave you a peek into the mind of God?

    How do you feel now about your psychotic episode?

    Many creative people tread the line between genius and madness. Many destroy themselves with drugs and alcohol.

    Your poem reminds me a little of the poet, artist and visionary, William Blake.
  3. RestlessSoul

    RestlessSoul Active Member

    Apr 3, 2021
    Agnostic Lapsed Catholic
    This is one of Blake's paintings. If he were alive today, it's quite likely he would have been diagnosed with some sort of mental illness.