Welcome to DDA Creations Poetry Section...
We have some talented creatives in DDA and this section is dedicated to some of the best of our member’s poetry. Please send any creative stuff to [email protected] if you’d like it to be added to this area of the website?
Dear DDA reader,
This poem is a short account of my first experience of psychosis aged 19 when I was sectioned on December 31st 1999, the dawn of the millennium 🥲
I tried to capture my feelings of utter terror together with my spiritual or occult experiences and resulting sense of disillusionment.
I am sharing this in an attempt to show the reader that he or she is not alone in this recovery journey and no matter how bad things can become mentally, recovery is possible.
The walls crashing around my psyche,
Smaller and smaller became my dark inner turmoil,
But more intense the void.
Fairies, goblins, elves and Thors all pounding in my temples,
The rushing occult energies as I took one more pull on my only vice,
And puffed out woodworm tobacco smoke,
Up to the green angels who fluttered above my crown.
The light angel counting my merciless thoughts of dread stood to my left,
And the dark angel on my right side offered condolances to my former self.
Dreams a shipwreck on the high seas of the Atlantic,
Police sirens wailing outside my bedroom walls,
Like the merciless cries of a head capitalist shouting “out out out”.
Colours interwoven with alchemic sounds,
Images and reflections of the noose, the meat clever,
Childhood laughter now my enemy
And paranoia reducing my once brave heart to shadows.
Crackling by Candlelight part 2
“The world shrinks into a pipe,
Crackling by candlelight.
Perennial movements massacre me,
Consumed and always solitary.
As frothy tears solidify
Emotions are revoked.
Yet all is gone in a puff of insidious smoke.
Whilst everything fades to white,
A darkness eclipses the light.
Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Rock outweighs the paper,
The scissors come in later.
It scores, scores, scores, scores.
The world shrinks into a pipe again,
Palpitations pulse with arrhythmia then.
Each pipe leads to the gutter.
Gutturally, I stutter, and exhale.
Masked in a smoky veil.
Shrinking thinking into a pipe and then,
Up in flames,
I’m gone in a puff of smoke, again.
This creative writing piece is about my addiction to smoking drugs.
As all my writings – it came from the heart…
Where do you hide
From the self-saboteur……
The “HE” inside the mirror…
“HE” that opens every door.
“HE” that looks you in the window
In the mirror of your eyes –
I see reflections of perceptions
As you focus and arise.
“HE’s” aside you as you walk each step
No shadows from the Sun
He’s at every destination
Of your journeys just begun.
HE’s” ahead of time – and waiting
All-knowing and divine
It’s for me to understand his will
And make it one with mine
We ponder poignant questions,
Do we stand or do we hide?
Is there really a safe sanctuary,
From…the ”HE’ who lives inside.
I give myself such mischief……
I orchestrate my strife!
If only I could step and stand aside
I might enjoy – this life.
If this fight is lost to vanity
To selfish thought and deed,
Then I walk in light – yet blindness
Being led by human greed.
I have hope for my salvation
Amalgamation – making true,
An orchestrated fusion
Of both the me’s – with YOU.
AFRAID TO LET A HIGH GO BYE
For all the highs I ever had
From good to fair to fucking mad
I never really scored my goal
Just played the game and lost my soul.
It’s like I tried to snatch the air
And consume all there is out there
There were no drugs I wouldn’t try
Afraid to let a high go bye.
The quickening heart, the sudden rush
And then the embryonic hush
The empty hole, excessive need
Fed constant by a manic greed.
The drug, the pimp and me, the whore
As we spiral to the lonely floor
All hope is gone, no place to be
My world in chains, no longer free.
I must escape this hellish place
No peace, no love, no dreams to chase.
Else here it is that I shall die
Afraid to let a high go, BYE!
THE ROAD AHEAD
Is there somewhere where there’s sanctuary from the torment of the mind?
Is there somewhere with serenity or a peace of any kind?
Is there somewhere where its hum drum and monotony is rife?
Is there somewhere I can rest myself and start to build a life?
For I’m a wounded soldier – in a war not of my making
Playing the lead man in a drama without knowing I’m partaking.
Shell-shocked from the fury of the cyclone of my fear
Reeling from the maelstrom with no knowledge of the here.
I need a place to gather and grow stronger by the day
So I can find the purpose that will lead me on my way
For aimless in this darkness without meaning to my plight
Would be as searching for a rainbow in the darkest dark of night.
The years till now have lamed me and I need to take respite
To internalise my focus, seek the answers, get it right.
Released now from my demons to have freedom in my thinking
Now standing captain at the helm to keep this ship from sinking.
All suffered made me who I am, not who I’ll come to be
Past actions will enslave – but future deeds will set me free
All knocks and falls took on my way were all by fault, unplanned
But every fall I ever took resulted in a stand.
Success will not be measured by how happy I become
Or the distance I have travelled on the journey now begun
My spirit will not kindle when I succeed to get it right
Only when it’s nurtured in the glory of the LIGHT.
About this Poem:
I wrote this about the internal battle with relapse…
Last night I fought with demons
On a field inside my head
They tried to overpower me
And leave me there for dead.
My fear was overpowering
As we wrestled to the floor
If my foe should overcome me
I will stand again no more.
For there will be no quarter
If the day succumbs to night
The dark would then be total
I would not be here to fight.
So here I’m locked in fierce embrace
In a fight for what will be
With an enemy who knows me best
The enemy is me!