I'm secretly
a genius, trouble
is, I'm the only
one who knows
about it.
I'm much too
shy to show it,
and I'm much
too mad to keep
it constant.
I'm either busy
laying in my bed,
missing out.
Or overworking
myself to the point
of exhaustion.
There's no
in-between.
And that,
my friends,
is brilliant.
She says I’m so fun,
then claims that we’re done,
she says she hates me,
then wants my babies.
first she wants her man,
then says, “Go use your hand.”
She stares at my eves,
then says I’m full of lies.
The aggravation…
the resignation…
I think I’ve had enough
of her bipolar love.
Bipolar love.
She dreams of houses,
then only grouses,
wants to show me off,
then snaps, “Just get lost.”
One day she’s a dream,
and the next only screams,
How do I deal with that?
In love with only half...
The real confusion…
the sad delusions…
I think I’ve had enough,
of her bipolar love.
Bipolar love.
I want to love her,
and not be disturbed,
hope she gets well,
but half the time it’s hell.
It this allright?
Am I justified?
This is not her fault…
but drives me up the wall.
Mishmash of feelings…
it leaves me reeling…
I think I’ve had enough,
of her bipolar love.
Bipolar love.
I'm secretly
a genius, trouble
is, I'm the only
one who knows
about it.
I'm much too
shy to show it,
and I'm much
too mad to keep
it constant.
I'm either busy
laying in my bed,
missing out.
Or overworking
myself to the point
of exhaustion.
There's no
in-between.
And that,
my friends,
is brilliant.
You may say I'm crazy
but as it takes one to know one
do you have what I've got
if I am are you too
and am I nuts to think I'm not
the shrink he's not telling
despite all my yelling
he only asks how it makes me feel
it's quite a strain on the brain
is he really and truly for real
then again if I'm insane
as the earth is bipolar
it's no wonder
there are so many weirdos and whackos
in a world torn asunder
at least I'm not alone
I think you'll find
it can't be overstated it's overrated
sanity
it's all in the mind
Dare I share my intrusive thoughts
Once suicidal in a mood so dark
I actually tried to stop my heart
Using vitamins to sin with life to part
It was a low that got so deep
Manic tide had overcome me
Was hearing voices in trilogies
Mad as I was bipolar buried
I recall walking outside
Collapsed in the sunshine
Barely recall ambulance ride
Feeling lost wanting to die
Intrusive thoughts from deep hell
Kept me lost and so very unwell
I was a boat without a sail
Within my mind in a prison cell
Lost many months in a ward
Though so sick poetry still soared
God used doctors nurses to save
A crazy little poet from herself that day
Polar bear at the north pole,
floating on a lone ice floe,
thinks to himself,
'What happened to my world,
where did all the ice go?'
If to the south pole he did depart,
penguins to compare,
would he then be,
a well-traveled
bipolar bear?
journey into a bipolar mind
pebbles in time
.
there were ripples in yesterday’s water
where stones once were tossed
.
pebbles really,
yet enough to form concentric wrinkles
soothing over rough edges
and drowning silly circus clowns
.
each circle died and glass-like waters
were again
still
undisturbed
as though he had not been there
.
perhaps he hadn’t
.
in his head circles rolled onto circles
and the pale painted pony
leapt easily over his uncontested path
.
the music stopped
his eyes closed and no circles remained
ripples collapsed and pebbles dropped
inside his quiet mind
.
time to get off, he thought to himself
as he reached into his pocket and wondered
which was real
the carousel or the glass-like waters
.
in his pocket the pebbles were wet
and the painted ponies were going round again
galloping away
while clowns begged for laughter
.
and he picked up more pebbles from the ice cream stand
.
tolbert
Hands
Crowd my neck
squeeze me of life
suffocate my mind
cruel
Calculated
Cold blooded
strangulation
I am a purple prisoner of poetry
For when I can’t write woe is me
Darkens my sky the flowetry
Enriches my life the soul of me
Some do drugs roll with me
I just do hugs go with me
Grasping the love of a sheet
Of paper, pen and ink is peace
Muse is a turquoise tool guides me
Ideas are precious jewels inside me
It’s an affliction of discovery
A kind of mission red recovery
Righting what is wrong you see
Writing poems sonnets songs to sing
Some are like the ivory breeze
Others crash into onyx dead sea
One hopes to be indigo inspiring
To tickle brain cells cherry firing
To leave readers denim desiring
Or perhaps even enjoying inquiring
In the jail of a black bipolar mind
Where hell is back and forth in time
Words can be a key or lemon lock in crime
Can be of forms free or form that rhymes
Needing readers to read gives me a high
Hoping that you see a message from divine
Just how much courage does it take?
To stick to the plan that I’d made
And why should I be afraid?
To live my own destined fate
When all I could do is hate
All the things that I have said
Can’t I just stay in the bed?
With no sorrows and no regret
But the image of it in my head
Keeps on replaying until the end
My supervisor is a young, soft spoken Asian gal...
Who averted my eyes as she handed me
my end of the year "compensation award statement".
For working weekends and holidays
being an absentee on birthdays and funerals (thank God).
Despite the company riding the gilded air currents
like a diamond studded albatross,
I'll get seventy-three cents an hour raise.
I met her eyes and said,
"a bag of M&MS in the company vending machine
is a buck twenty-five".
She exited the room quicker than a nervous giggle.
She was once one of us. Now she's one of them.
Since the promotion, she's put on about 15 pounds
her face is breaking out. She doesn't smile much anymore.
I suppose seventy-three cents an hour
is better than her giving me the pink slip.
I could not stop crying
No idea why
Sobbing and shaking
Horrified at myself
I am usually manic
I am great at manic
Manic is my go-to-place
I LOVE being manic
I had been going strong for three days
No sleep needed.
Writing poems, painting pictures,
Playing with my dogs
I never put it together
Because I had never been sobbing, keening, wailing me before
I am on Lithium now
It is working
I hope that it always works
I never want to go to the dark place again
A place I never understood,
A place from which I might not return
bipolar rages...
can you smell it in the air?
a storm's a'comin'
she feels off today
tomorrow's too far away ~
help her to be well
How did this happen
lying in bed
feeling nothing
being nothing
incomplete.
why cant i disconnect when i stop having fun,
leave this server and find a new one,
I know we never ask to play,
but still im begging anyway,
I’m sick and tired of this game,
and struggle hiding my disdain,
for still having to entertain,
these words inscribed inside my brain,
written red, its better than
the awful things i’d do instead,
so here in bed, ill chain my head,
and think of ways theyll find me dead,
till something cracks, i tend to laugh
and then these awful feelings pass
and i’ll look back eventually
upon my whole cacophony
and wonder how that once was me,
but just for now i guess ill be,
the one who waits here patiently
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