isn’t make believe
do you understand it?
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2013
the man had a flat expression and showed no emotion
he seemed disconnected his movements bizarre
and his eyes lost sometimes standing motionless
on the busy street corner
with his little dog I always gave him money
(what's a few bucks to me )
thinking this is someone's child baby
oh he was sloppy his hygiene lacking
the man's memory muddled confused
but he did have a history locked within deep inside
at nineteen he was hearing voices paraniod
thoughts hullucinations bizarre
(like the pope was from outer space) delusional
he had withdraw from society run away
did not want to be a burden no one understood
disorganized and poor judgement
made working impossible they yelled at him
(he threw away his pills)
he wrote in cheap journals from
edge to edge top to bottom words jumbled meaningless
(in a secret language)
he did not show happiness agitation pleasure but
for some reason sadness oh yes sadness
was written all over him I could see feel
that and he did have love a real deep love
for that thin scraggly dog and I thought
some may think he is a drunk
but they are wrong this is
August 4, 2015
For the contest, Mental Illness, Nathan D
Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
Writing down my feelings
Mental health healing
Writing down my actions
Nothings a distraction
She looks pretty in blue
She's too good for you
Always looking around
You’ll end on the ground
Looking for the dog?
Try throwing his log
If you find the cat
Name it pat
Copyright © steve meadows | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
Crying Loudly but its all in my head,
The expression you see is a smile instead,
But if you look deep in my eyes they will tell you a tale
About how my appearance became so frail.
For the people around me I put on an act,
To hide the truth of control my life lacked.
Inside I am weak, Helpless and cold,
I feel Ive no-one to comfort me,no-one to hold.
I pace up, down and around my bed,
Trying to clear my head,
But inside my mind where the voices hide
I listened to what they said.
The noises I hear are the voices I fear,
I cannot drown out the sound.
Palms sweating and my heart is racing,
Collapsing to the ground.
Chest tightening...I cannot breathe, My visions turning black,
Here again on my own suffering another Panic Attack!
Copyright © Louise Phipps | Year Posted 2013
The shoes I shop for
are rope that fits my neck
The voices talking at me
don't like being talked about
In fact, they tell me things
not fit for humans like you
The perfume I like
is really a gun in my mouth
The reality I see is not
what it seems to you.
In fact, reality is fragile
a fleeting glimpse that passes by.
Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2015
and then plastered with labels
what a life it is
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2016
Depression, you will be the death of me.
Copyright © Feo The ugly drunken poet | Year Posted 2015
Will mental illness drive you insane,
Or will it force you to remain.
Locked up inside
Like a prisoner on death row
Barred in like somebody we used to know.
Prison wouldn't be so bad to me,
If I was wasn't already locked down, you see
In my own body I cannot move
Trapped inside a dimension we're trying to prove.
Maybe one day I'll be as free as a bird
Then hopefully I'll be heard.
Until that day where freedom is granted,
People continue to look at me slanted.
Like I'm so different from you or anyone,
I think you would listen if I brandished my gun.
That's how it feels on any given day
Copyright © Andrew Hart | Year Posted 2014
I almost purposely lost my mind,
to be confined to four walls
of intesifying white,
but if the pen was a threat
I'd hospitalize my life
by falling ill to death,
a little more
and I'd sink into
my hands in one sweet sobbing drone
to drown in fumes-
so take me to the tent, because
I proper express my emotions in vent,
doctors purely expressing obligations of
higher in command, and that because
of handbooks handed down from legal hands...
first the fist,
then sweet logic missed,
and the product of beaurocracy- shaking
obligatory hands in exchange for coins
later laid to rest on Ophelia's blessed
eyes, floating down the river
dead of liver failure and hands stained with
blood and vomit,
waited too long for the happiness
to set in, until organs bled in, unable to contain
the love, Oh Joy! If I could recompense
my friends and family who suffered at my expense-
I cry, I have my own cell and I stick my hands
out of steel bars, to be washed
of ultimate sin, the inability to let God in,
I killed his son today, the easy way, letting Lucifer
sit in the brain, and breed cruel thoughts now laid,
Hell No... all heaven sent, each thought is a plot,
but each thought is an idea I misrepresent,
I won't repent, I won't repent, I won't repent,
burning hot in the Hot Tent.
Copyright © Ph.d Volo Von Wolfenstein | Year Posted 2011
My Poetry Mental Health (MPMH)
Did you ever discover you had the desire?
To encompass poetry world in its entire
By becoming and giving your best shot
Started saying to yourself, "Oh, why not!"
If it is you and you again I am in love
With compared to others you are above
Who I thought would be greatest of all
Things were peaceful then became a brawl.
Me with my magnificent ego and arrogance
To many others may not make much sense
And sometime later I started getting scared
When with others I had been compared.
Then I saw factor which was contributing
Whose kindness did desire to be distributing
To write more poems had a new found wealth
Now contributing to my poetry mental health.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2015
Each day we all may struggle
Many trying to just survive,
Other's become to overwhelmed
For they only inside wish to die.
Their minds are full of confusion
Without proper help, won't go far,
Family support no longer enough
These people forget who they are.
Mental illness strikes many people
Nobody know how hard families try,
The phone calls, letters and many prayers
No solutions found, only the question why.
Why wont anyone out there listen
Why must these people be fully down,
Where is the help they need and deserve
Why won't you help turn these people around.
Hae we all become so cold inside
A society that just don't care,
Why can't these people get any help
Have we ran out of love to share.
These pople are human beings
They have feelings that are real,
Place yourself in their shoes just once
Completely live in the pain they feel.
Then ask yourself a simple question
Now do i inside fully understand,
Mental illness is a serious disease
How can I help this child, woman or man.
Copyright © Jodie Steward | Year Posted 2009
What is Perfection???
Is it just the other’s Expectations???
Rather, it is Self-satisfaction!
Today, there are many who aren’t perfect,
And are worried anout their self-respect.
They are turning fatal,
Because we people have taged them “Mental”.
Is is just because of their abnormal behavior?
That they are treated and ignored so severe?
Or is it just that they can’t express,
And we Are always there to supresss???
It makes me sad to see them so,
Such life is bropught to them by a terrible low!
People need to change their perception,
And treat those for gratification!
The worls assumes the word “mental” very negatively,
And the awareness about its health should be spread positively.
I wish to see the change in coming tomorrow,
And pray to see no sorrow!
Life has given us chance to be brave,
So, use the chance and be great!
Copyright © Nishita Karulkar | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
What started as a few times has
now turned into a habit hard to break
Everyone is now starting to see
no matter how hard I try to hide it or
how hard I try to fake
I've tried to hide it from everyone
including my own family
I guess in fear they would think I
was stupid or maybe even deny me
What started this issue this problem
Knowing I will never look like the girls
on tv or the cover of magizines
Knowing when I see my reflection
I'm the furthest thing from them
From what everyone wants
what seem like "perfection"
How can I ever truly be happy with me
knowing like them I will never be
What sets us so far apart from one another
ask yourself or you will end up just like me
all alone all by yourself
someone so miserable in this life no matter
what I try and do
Seems no matter what happens I always end
up the fool
See everytime I think I found someone that is
different I seem to find out it's not true
No man can ever only see his real love
no man can ever stay completly true
Every man has got wandering eyes
any man to tell you different is just another
man full of lies
Bulima I have learned is a mental illness a
mental disease I know sounds sick to most
Be glad this is not one of your demons to
fight - one of your ghost
Copyright © Melissa Coles | Year Posted 2005
Many a people faces a health stigma
Everyone thinks it all just in the mind
Nothing prepares you when you lose it
Talking about it who is really listening
Asking for help should not be so hard
Locking yourself away is not healthy
Happiness of a person appears locked up
Everyone is an individual not a living book
Ascribe treatment taylored to the person
Listening it is only a part of the solution
The mind of a person will protect itself
Healing itself may become a slow process
Copyright © john doherty | Year Posted 2015
It’s National Mental Health Awareness Week
and I’m finding new resources to help
me again and pretend there is hope until there is
hope all who suffer find some peace
and mind that can settle
enough to remember
joy and grace.
and I’m using my trusty computer and low and behold like magic
my mind conjures my brothers who I’ve been missing…
they live so far away and when I’m convinced I am all alone with no hope
I want their company, want some family ya know.
And so an email pops up from my brother
with a link to an old song coming up new from Jackson Browne
and I’m thrown into the past… and how touched I was with his lyrics and music….
I was hopelessly scared and drunk all the time
and one day I locked myself in the bathroom, laid on the tiles
that were heated copper, naked and listening to Jackson Browne.
I knew he knew and I wanted to talk to him
and I found his phone number and I called him
on my old funky phone that reached all the way to the bathroom, 837-2400….
he was there but I chickened out and hung up,
passed out on the hot tiles
and woke to the wind rattling the window
and noise from down the hall coming from the family room….
the big room, the belly, the heaven and hell
where this family dwelled in love and pain and confusion….
ribs, lungs, wooden beams heaved with thunder, rain and we held steady…
none of us were ready to be
Thrown out into our lives. Thirsty.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2014
years of abuse add up
the judge gives them a prison sentence
which they serve and then get released
next thing that person knows as they try to rebuild their life
starting from the bottom
They approached you
two months after your sentence
tell you you are court ordered
for a 30 day psychiatric assessment
you dont get out for years
made to believe you are sick
witnessing nurses affairs with patience
man with a broken leg forced to walk
young girls screaming rape
the whole time knowing you are not supposed to be there
everyday another fight you can never win
finally you get away
addicted to their pills
everyday a struggle
for years keeping appointments
not understanding what is going on
You serve your sentence
then you serve another one
never knowing what judge sentenced you there
every doctor from a different country
telling you life isn't fair
Doctor's lieing to your family
about biting and kicking him
maximum security forensics
in and out of group homes for years
Then one day you quit taking your meds
tired of the side affects
and suddenly you begin waking up early
doing your laundry
cleaning your house
the hindsight remains
I wasn't supposed to be there
no judge sentenced me there
allah almighty answers the phone when you call amnesty international
Unable to become erect
covered in scales
when you can't afford not to think clear
Go tell eminem i get it
I walked the ward for you
made to think i was sick my whole life
and then sickened by the things i went through
Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2010
I have extremely dangerous mental health.
I had one session with a psychiatrist, then he killed himself.
So I guess it's very true
the damage my whining can do.
Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2010
Hence, forth I walk.
Too Summer I talk
When I leap, Jump I find.
I am the intellectual suffering voices.
When the voices rise.
I find the drastic Dragon.
I excavate terminologies.
Hence I colour the colour-book.
To remove the shadows
Of the voices, which I brask.
Copyright © Moses Samandar | Year Posted 2015
With a view to helping the mentally sick
Let's make the following decisions quick:
That no place in the world be devoid of
basic psychiatric care
and research into
organic brain damage
Should get prompt and firm patronage
Medicines for control of epilepsy
Should be on top agenda of every country
Each firm should have an infrastructure
to tackle workplace stress
And to help people in mental distress
Research centers for neurosis and psychosis
Be set up in each hospital premises
As patients of depression tend to commit suicide
Let's to them prompt treatment provide
And to train mentally challenged in self care
Let individuals donate their share
To minimize the incidence of mental diseases
Let's ensure healthy ambience in all countries
Copyright © nandlal pancholi | Year Posted 2007
I need a sunburn to feel alive, lately I just feel dead inside. Is the feeling coming back? I feel like I’m fading back into the black. I’ve heard of a relapse, but does that happen to a mental illness? The feeling of wanting to go back into the abyss, no one should know what it feels like to go through a feeling like this. How can I trust anyone, when I don’t know how to trust myself? I feel myself going through changes, but I’m not the man I want to be, I feel trapped, but I want to be free. They tell you to forget about the past, but it’s hard when the past won’t forget about you. When you want to go back to school, but your past grades are too low because you acted like a fool in high school. When you want to see your daughter more, but you can’t because of the way your illness made you act before. All examples of the past coming back, so how exactly do you forget about that? Some days I feel okay, most days I feel like I’m just wasting away. Family and friends say “You’ve come along way”, but I feel like it just comes down to me acting every day. I’m really not sure how I feel and I sure as hell don’t know which feeling is real.
Copyright © Jordan Cote | Year Posted 2015
Self-esteem on the floor, ego isn’t much higher
Tell everyone I’m just tired
Fake a smile and try to keep it up
Hide away from the world even though at times I just need a hug
Some days I wish I had a way out
Suicide isn’t an option even though I’m ready to die
The baggage I carry means my wings are too heavy to fly
So I fight daily and see how things play out
Never been normal there’s always been something different about me
I feel judgement and looks from people sitting around me
Never had many friends, I rarely speak so I listen more
Just a 24 hour break from depression and mental health is all I’m wishing for
Anxiety playing up causing me to have attacks in public
Bipolar, so people are scared because I could flip
Scared to open up to any new person
Left it behind me, but how ironic self-harm used to stop me hurting
Self-esteem on the floor, ego isn’t much higher
Tell everyone I’m just tired
Fake a smile and try to keep it up
Hide away from the world even though at times I just need a hug
Copyright © Alex Duffy | Year Posted 2016
people talk about me like im a special case in a mental hospital, i used to be depressed, but now my life is more than dull, i think so many thoughts, my mind is way over full, i get hot in cold places, like summertime wool. give in to madness, its gravity's pull, i want to go swim, so i jump from the hull, im as small as an ant, like im wearing a skull, im walking a horse, but im riding a bull. but i really don't care, because i love the attention, people talk about me, like something they forgot to mention, i have so much stuff, its the biggest collection, im insane but not crazy, and that is a correction.
Copyright © maxwell collier | Year Posted 2013
Arthur was 16 when he entered the system
i could never ask him why
he was too old when i met him
he was on soo many pills
and not very pleasant to talk to
he heard voices
he would sometimes get up and punch someone
but who knows if they deserved it
after being in a mental institute
from the age of 16 until the day you die
wouldn't you go crazy
the first real guinea pig
i met him
i never cried for him and his pain
but he always wanted to check my shave,
perhaps a victim from some sick war crime
I'll never know
Graham is not from our country
and I've written amnesty international concerning his welfare
they say its not any of their concern
as he wears shackles and chains on a daily basis
and goes to the bathroom in a diaper and eats cold food like sandwiches
because he hits people
mainly his doctor who lies to him
in my opinion
just like the doctor lied to my dad about me trying to bite him,
but i have no proof
just lucky I'm not in chains
going to the bathroom in a diaper
I know he committed a crime but two years locked in one room
alone with a window curtain opening and closing to spy on you
is enough psychological insanity to inspire mania if you ask me
Andrew was a crack head
and held up some convenience stores for some money
so he could get drugs
now hes been in the funny farm for like twelve years
still trying to get a hold of his next hit
watching his youth disappear
watching his life fade away
jumping through the hoops of a system that holds your freedom above you
that may or may not ever grant it
Andrew ran away
gave it all he got
saw people chained to the wall
people dieing there from the age of 16 for ridiculous crud
and knew they were toying with him
so he ran away
now he on a unit where god only knows
what mind hell they're putting him through
what rainbows hes swallowing down
Shelley was the meanest woman i had ever met
but it was always worth seeing her smile
don't know haven't figured out if the drugs really helped her
but she was in that place since she was seventeen
and died in a group home from some sickness
they claim wasn't related to her meds
I'm no fool, the stuff they pump us full of is deadly and toxic
i never made it to Shelly's funeral to see her murderers
there crying fake tears
for someone they would never really miss
Copyright © Troy Nelson | Year Posted 2006
Ah, a mental block-
a temporary thing, like
a folded napkin!
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2008
We created clients as consumers of education
and called this freedom to learn.
We created competitive,
professional caste-system schools
and called them freedom from unhealthy superstitions of extended families,
freedom from historic threats looming within mysteriously encultured biosystems.
We created prisons
and called them freedom from crime.
We created criminal clients
and called this freedom to enculturate indigenous tensions
struggles between Anger Management housekeepers
and uncivilized crime amongst themselves.
We created corporate ownership
without concomitant social,
political and economic responsibility,
and called it private property,
where once grew healthy therapeutic Commons.
We created slaves to others’ production of corporate wealth
and called us consumers and clients of RealTime,
economic and political competition life.
We created financial wealth
and called it powerful political health.
We created religious culture-fossilized Traditions,
brittle and stagnant absence of healthy evolution,
and called them spiritual-enspirited paths toward healthy vocations.
We created government by popular election
and did not call it survival of the wealthiest EgoCentrists.
We might like to create freedom to learn freedom from anthrocentrism,
to listen to self-governing nutrition-consumers producing co-valued information
about how and where and when we have substituted WinLose shortcuts
for WinWin co-mentoring political,
ecologically cooperative healthy-wealth of freedom orthopraxis,
organically and spiritually exegetical,
evolving great millennial
and small intimate revolutions
networking Earth's cooperative consciousness.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016
There is a girl a now
shes almost gotten away
played the game
jumped through the hoops
told me some secrets
while she was there she was sexually assaulted
hey i don't pay taxes
so i don't get to choose the channel
i want to watch on the televisions
that are there for the patients
i might be crazy but you know what
i can still remember what my delusions
are and what the reality is on my better days
for me its like a movie or a song stuck in my head
sexual assaults, and a place to be toyed with, a place to go to die from the age of
16 until you die, a place to run from the insanity you witness to be brought back
and punished with the fact their lengthening your stay and upping your poison
that doesn't heal!!!!
A boy singing in his room
too loud to keep the peace of the unit
was sent to maximum security for just that reason
neighbored with man in shackles and chains
just after Arthur had died
and Andrew ran away
he sang his songs
and one day couldn't get coffee out of a coffee pot
so he twisted the lid
to ease the flow
and guess what
he got a needle in his butt
and the doctor lied to his father about the whole ordeal
and for two weeks after he could no longer participate in gym activities
later that Christmas
they threw his Christmas cards away
saying they were fire hazards
opening the blue pages dialing number after number after number
to report leaky pipes the sewer smell
I'll tell you one thing about those power trippers
the people that work there make it very obvious
they only work there because they are afraid to quit
because they fear they know too much
they are addicted of the group mentality of forcing medications upon those who
don't want it
I've never seen something so ugly
some things in reality are there for reason
some things are there to be changed
but when something creates so many causalities and this is just a few
which i will explain,
one was addicted to drugs
one was probably in need of help
and one was me
but we are all victoms a who gets away
in sickness or in health
would rather die in our hallucinations and illness
than be brought back there
to go through than level of torture to be brought back to the next nightmare
the psychiatrists call better
makes me wonder why soo many of the ill find hospitals just another political
war zone we are all innocent pawns of some unholy war game people with
money. I will find ways to turn the tables, this i swear
Copyright © Troy Nelson | Year Posted 2006
I now have
A tremendous wealth
There's nothing better
Than mental health
Weeks of soul searching
And travels through my past
So, here I am
Free at last
Feeling no guilt
Or sins that need repent
There's nothing but love
In my time well spent
Move only forward
Put the past to rest
The future holds only happiness
That was just a test
Copyright © Teresa Harr-Pena | Year Posted 2007
I'm trying to change for the better
I'm trying so hard to be brave
I'm trying to fix these habits
That will put me in an early grave
I've struggled for years and years
I've grown to hate the word "try"
Because each time I've used it
It always felt like a lie
But I haven't given up yet
Even though I've tried and failed
I guess I've succeeded at something
Because my resolve prevailed
Some people think it's so easy
But it's easier said then done
When motivation is fleeting
And I'm trapped in an endless rerun
But I'm going to be brave
I'm taking one day at a time
I'm taking baby steps
Toward this uphill climb
Copyright © Marilyn Hernandez | Year Posted 2016
There are rooms in my body that are too dark for me to be left alone in.
They're never empty and their occupants throw each other
Against my bones when I have to speak out loud.
The residents are unwelcome, messy, and don't spend enough time
In their own homes.
The worst of them all are the ones that choose to live in my brain.
They don't let me shake new hands or
Even tell the people I love who I am.
They don't let me sleep anymore.
Since they've been here,
I can't be comfortable by myself,
And I make my friends uncomfortable
Because I overcompensate for the things
I can't tell them
By talking way too much about things that don't matter.
Things like the weather and who's still together.
Things like my day and what celebrities say.
Sometimes I lie about how busy I am because even though I don't want to be alone
The monsters in the cages of my brain say it's for the best.
Sometimes I think they just want me all to themselves.
Then they give me a million reasons why no one ever will.
Sometimes they laugh at me.
Sometimes they cry.
Sometimes I trust them
Sometimes I'm afraid that they've taken me hostage.
Sometimes my street lights don't turn on.
Copyright © Mahli Webster | Year Posted 2016
Each day when I leave to go to my school,
I feel sick in my stomach to the core.
My father’s been ill for months, maybe years,
He’s losing a fight in a war.
Each day when I sit in class at my school,
I dread. My nerves have me shot.
My folks fight and clash throughout every day,
Stay together? Maybe. Maybe not.
Each day when I walk home from school,
I jitter, my pulse runs on high.
Will all of my family still be alive, or
To one of them will I be saying good bye?
Each day when I lay alone in my bed,
I bury, into my pillow, my fear.
I hate living a life full of angst and blue,
Worry’s now my friend, it is my peer.
Copyright © Lewis Raynes | Year Posted 2016