A Recovery Blog

This blog is about my continuing recovery from severe mental illness. I celebrate this recovery by continuing to write, by sharing my music and artwork and by exploring Buddhist ideas and concepts. I claim that the yin/yang symbol is representative of all of us because I have found that even in the midst of acute psychosis there is still sense, method and even a kind of balance. We are more resilient than we think. We can cross beyond the edge of the sane world and return to tell the tale. A deeper kind of balance takes hold when we get honest, when we reach out for help, when we tell our stories.

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Five Poems

Snow Day

Is there a whiter white than snow,
Fast falling snow
That quickly covers the earth?
A steady, unrelenting descent
Of cold pieces of clouds
Is silently loud.
The birds burrow into their covered spots
And wait the downpour out.
It is warm enough today
To turn the firm accumulation into slush.
Too wet, too soon too cold,
Turned to ice this night.


I am ignorant,
Those who really know me know this.
Trump has out-trumped me
Relying on this
And yet I wonder about the media portrayal
Of a blonde man and his toupee
Making bestial faces before the cameras.
Lefty leaning liberals
Label him a narcissist
Interested more in his own reflection
Than what is being reflected in this country,
The worst kind of presidential candidate.


On the carousel of prostitution
Pornography is now mainstream,
Infiltrating into the most benign homes,
Turning men and women into slaves
From the grooves in their neuro-pathways
To their fingertips and toes.

Video fantasies
That mingle with flesh and blood realities
Of men, women and children,
Workers and slaves alike,
Chained to the grind
Of representing themselves
As shadows with little substance.

Ghosts in the machine,
Ghosts walking the earth,
But chained to one spot,
To one style of self torture.
Regardless of the role,
Either master or servant,
Their commitment is to denial.


Prayer rides on the breath.
Inhale, make ready to look to the sky
Acknowledging my humble position,
My one pointed spot
In place and time and attitude.

I look up to you
No name space,
Sky God,
And formulate my gratitude.
Exhale:  “Thank you for my life.
Thank you for all the days and nights of my life.”

The test in a gratitude prayer
Is to remain open
With no thoughts of the past or the future,
Appreciative of the ready vision
Spread all around as I survey my place.

I surrender to not knowing,
Yet my open ignorance
Is a sprouted seed
Hidden in the soil
Ready to push up towards the sunlight.

It is a moment of pure potential.
I am empty as a cup,
Empty as a bowl,
Empty as a bucket.
I am the air bearer,
The water bearer,
The earth bearer.
Repetition is my friend
And an absolute necessity.


The Higher Power put me in Hell for ten minutes,
Some lower realm, though not the lowest.
My ear was glued to my ex-lover’s kitchen floor.
It was a place where the Mad Hatter bellowed from above me.
Where vicious nonsense was proclaimed as Truth,
And where more torment was promised if I did not follow.
I was immobilized by fear and horror
Like some poisoned prey.
And yet still there was the mercy of numbness.
My numb true Self with a subtle consciousness
Still lived because of some divine insulation.
This is my deep link to the human beings on this planet,
Both the Hell and the mercy.

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