The Colours of Schizophrenia

CHAPTER 4 Emptiness

  Darkness

  In darkness we seek

  what is known by the light

  My life is hidden

  Fridays Child

  Caught in the exchange

  of words and rage

  tryin’ to be ‘Friday’s

  Child’…

  Looking for support

  Knowing the truth

  Getting caught up

  with the lies

  Ending friendships,

  burning bridges,

  sewing the seeds

  of depression

  Different traits,

  personality clashes

  messin’ with my

  head

  Not holding back,

  afraid not to tell

  when time is running

  out — it’s not too late!

  Flicker

  She picks up a

  razor blade and parades

  it around the room.

  She is hardened by

  the world and fragile

  with her affection.

  Her flowing mane is

  a weapon in a game

  of unknowns. The

  slightest touch is a

  like an electric spark

  that cascades down her

  spine. By the band

  stand is her last

  partner, he had to

  go, and leave town.

  He said that she was

  'too risky' and

  'random'. It's as if

  the world can turn her

  on and then off

  whenever it wants to.

  She is merely a flicker

  of chemicals awash with

  contamination.

  Idealism

  Schizophrenia is often

  idealised by the desire to

  know the law of God and a

  love for spiritual gifts, or the

  hatred of money and power.

  It’s a state of opposites, or

  so it seems, as poverty is

  compounded by the

  philosophy of the ‘saints’.

  Yet nobody believes in

  their badges of honour,

  and their good names are

  dragged into the dirt. But

  could it be that although

  they find it hard to win

  the ‘golden ticket’ in life,

  there’s no shame in being a

  ‘diamond in the rough’?

  Mirages

  I’m having more of

  those dreams. This time

  I was in the middle of a desert.

  The doctors and nurses

  were sitting in an oasis as

  they beckoned me over.

  But I kept seeing mirages,

  and my behaviour was a fraud.

  I didn’t want what they had;

  I wanted to be different,

  like a clown in a circus -

  except now I was out of

  control. I knew that nobody

  would understand.

  Alogia

  The loose association,

  eats at your speech like

  a cancer, spreading to

  all parts of your

  organs and terrorises the

  negative symptoms. A

  man asked you to describe

  your family but you thought

  about a tree, and it took you

  a few minutes to properly

  adjust your thinking. You

  believed him to be tiresome,

  and the conversation was

  awkward.

  Sweet Whispers

  The whisper of the wind

  Innocence within our soul

  Telling us of love while delivering

  us protection

  She plays our senses like

  a child with a toy, forever

  sharing the enjoyment of youth,

  laughing and then smiling

  Her hands reach far and wide

  as her touch is soft and gentle

  We must not deny her

  calming and soothing effect

  The many rainbows of her aura

  dazzle us with beauty and serenity,

  with a sensual attraction for

  every heart that listens

  I pray we could remain

  a virgin in the sacred form

  But each seed must grow into an

  flower and face the world

  Her voice begins to ebb away,

  but there’ll be no farewell for us

  We can still feel nature’s power

  inside the realm of dreams

  Summation

  Illusions blur confusions

  Aversions make obsessions

  Confessions serve progressions

  Emotions please relations

  Delusions tease conclusions.

  E-motion

  Words allow meaning,

  as our soul and love vibrate

  E-motions have truth

  The Missing Pieces

  I think I’d die to catch her eye

  I’d rearrange the stars to hear her sigh

  I think I’d perish to feel her kiss,

  and know my heart is hit or miss

  I cannot dance until I sing to our song

  These words of beauty are never wrong

  I trust my dreams with her loving mind,

  for I believe without her I’m left behind

  The missing pieces are mine to keep,

  I’m the jigsaw puzzle in her sleep

  I’d be forlorn unless she thought of me

  We celebrate each anniversary.

  I hope she wears her wedding dress,

  as I count the days to that caress

  I may wilt in summer on a sultry night,

  but she’ll pick me up and hold me tight

  And if she might yearn for my true hand,

  then life is worth living; I understand!

  Lost in Wonder

  Life only lets us see what death cannot hide.

  Soul Drugs

  The distance in my soul has helped me

  bridge its ‘gaps’

  Summer

  The wind blows

  a gust of irony,

  the leaves are

  full of mystery

  For the flowers

  of fragrance

  allow my dreams

  to dance

  And the call of

  every wonderer

  scatters the

  winds of winter

  Many of the

  moments spark

  alive the flutters

  in my heart

  Solar signs

  of the yellow sun,

  let me be free

  and live as one

  Normality

  How do we please

  the laughing hyenas

  who don’t care for

  us? They will sell our

  souls. When the tables

  are turned, only then

  will they realise that

  normality is not a state

  of mind — it’s a point

  of view and an opinion

  or a perspective!

  Clouds in My Eyes

  Across the storms of

  forgetting, lies a silver

  lining. When we follow

  a rainbow, a pot of gold

  is found. In a deluge

  of hail we must take cover.

  And the rain it has

  a sting like that

  over the Ukrainian

  skies. And the

  wretch that is

  psychosis, has threaded

  a needle in my pupils. Now

  I have clouds in my eyes-

  cataracts of doom

  that take me to

  the crucible of fear,

  where the morning never

  breaks

  ‘Schizo’

/>   They called her names at

  school. She was confused and

  sexual. She would ‘go

  with’ strange men, and then

  begin to cry. She has long

  black hair, and a fondness

  of rock music and drugs.

  They called her ‘schizo’, but

  she was undiagnosed. Perhaps

  she would grow out of it?

  You could tell that her

  parents had no idea what

  numbers to ring, or who they

  could talk to. The stigma at

  that time of her life scarred

  her body and her mind!