Posts Tagged ‘souls’


Back ensconced in ward 8 Bentley Hospital in my flytrap mind

At least I’m with my crazy people

Suicidal ideation with cold claws of depression around my throat

Empathy and cigarettes as I meet the gentle mental

Telling tales of trauma as we lurch toward medication time buoyed by companionship

Memories of their voices

‘She was born a heroin baby’

‘I took an overdose of Valium and a shitload of antidepressants’

‘I tried to kill myself twice’

‘I wish I was dead’

‘I tried to hang myself with a sheet and the nurse found me’

People rendered fragile by the viscous blender of earth

Some think us hopelessly broken

We balance madness and sanity in our brains sometimes madness wins

Medication time, medication time

Drugs are shuffled by doctors and dolled out to wild-eyed victims of the societal meat-grinder

Titration of pills and prescriptions to quell anxiety, depression and delusion

Uppers, downers, round and rounders

Anti-psychotics, anti-depressants and heavenly benzodiazepenes

Then we sit outside in the courtyard to smoke to punctuate our day

Sharing cigarettes with noble depressives or exploring thought projection with shamanic schizophrenics

We dance a devilish dance in a rain of paranoia

Until it all becomes too much

We are sad, we are sometimes shattered

Sometimes hard to love

But we laugh and we smile too

Then howl out the agony of our souls

We will keep trying

To get our heads together



We are the least of men

Iranians, Afghanis, Sudanese

Stuck on Manus forever

Outside the camp the locals will attack us

Cutting us down like dogs

They hack us with machetes

Inside the camp we die in our souls

Of neglect

Of disease

Of madness

In tropical heat

We cry out to your conscience

For you to set us free

For we are losing hope

And feeling dead inside

We are punished for coming on a boat

When Australia was built by people arriving by boat

We are a national staining shame

For if you do this to us now

Who will be next?

I am the purple crustacean of electric visions and doom-time scenarios.
I encompass all things from the void to the myriad blown—out stars.
Around me flow bubbles and curlicues of psycho-thoughts and the voices of the dead.
The dead whisper heresies in my crustacean ears and I hear every one.
I live in a bucket of custard at the bottom of the sea with sea urchins in my hair.
Many strange events will be possible beneath my claws as I grasp the meaning of my existence.
For I will not murder the days or count them out like cough drops.
Each instant is precious and characterized by golden glow and fuzzy hair-clotted memories.

My carapace shelters the damned until they are released from their torment.
I watch left and right as my eyes pivot on stalks and I see them dance the dance of a thousand deaths.
All bow before me as I channel the impulses of a million brains through my tentacles, electrical mind thoughts from the satellite god of conspiracy to me and back again.
What wonders I have dominion over at the bottom of the sea!
Water ballet down rivulets of sea weed wig forms and brave moments of mollusc riding mayhem,
I talk to the fish and the fish talk to me, we ride with the great white sharks enthralled with their teeth and grace and feed on the carrion of infinite nowhere
And I astral travel to every point in the universe instantly.