Illustration from “De Homine” by Rene Descartes
no pain like the pain
broken bodies relocate
inside of the mind
thoughts that hurt for the thinking
afflictions of memory
Depression
All posts tagged Depression
“Aura of Autumn I” by Leonid Afremov
melancholia bathes
in a bracing cold rain
briskly tingling with
freshening ionized air
but the cleansing
won’t reach
underneath and within
well-bruised skin
can’t revivify
withered black bones
of too many necrotic
stilled summers
(originally posted October 2013)
“Untitled” by Clyfford Still
some days
the mind
is too small
for a thought
to stand upright
no room
in the dark
for the least
bit of light
days like this
should be
sealed up
in little
green bottles
of airless
narcosis
to smother
where not
even poets
can breathe
Artist Unknown
sadness turns into pathology
when tears flow unbidden
in rusty red rivulets
rutting the cheeks
when joy slips and slides
lost of handholds
on woe-heaving hearts
when smiles are stillborn
on quivering sighs
and hopelessness settles
its dullness in eyes
surrendered of light
when even strong judders
of anger and fear
fail to energize spines
and refocus the mind
******************
(originally posted May 2013)
“Man in Black Hat” by David Flam
any white shirt would do
for a black and white stageplay
as long as I got to recite
my lines wearing my old
soft black cowboy hat
crown-pinched and brim-rolled
like pages of scripts my gray
fingers would worry
again and again line-by-line
word-for-word all to memorize
life in the hope that some
slightest applause
might redeem the dull effort
(originally posted December 2013)
“Depression” by Tanya Dawn
in the dark
of the night
place and time
for ablutions
of tears
a purge of the
pain from the
crippling strain
upon days
sorely hobbled
by holding
false postures
of cheer
in the dark
of the night
place and time
for a wash
of emotions
before that
despondent
deep blue
the discolor
of woe
can set
permanent stain
on the heart
in the dark
of the night
place and time
for this private
indulgence
no room
inside sadness
for love or
its sympathy
no room
for genuine joy
to find sleep
in the mind
“Depression by Morphine” by Ashes Thorense
so tired of clouds
all the years
gray of day
rumpled shadows
who carry the
shape of my name
stumbling seeking
some patch of
white sun and blue sky
someplace soft
someplace dry
free from teardrops
of rain and the
lightning of pain
disillusioned by
weather that writes
this last chapter of life
among trees that can
no longer breathe
all the green
dissolved into an
ashen resolve of
this lightlessness
oh what a colorful
ruse did my long ago
dreams play to hide
this desultory morrow
now stranded in time
discontentedly pallid
so tired of clouds
“Drug Abuse” by Angu Walters
capsules of sanity
tablets of bravery
consciousness addled
by painkilling chemistry
left in the half-light
of utter dependence
a life inauthentic
one cadre of shadows
exchanged for another
will time tell the tale
whether treatments
prove better or worse
than afflictions
the trinity essence
of human identity
heart mind and soul
find connection
by delicate meshed
metaphysical membrane
connections indifferently
severed by dull
pharmaceutical knives
in the quelling of
pain and depression
collateral damage
the self can’t survive
in the effort
to overcome suffering
physic and psychic
rebalanced arranging
a new personality
lost of original tendencies
sapped of vitality
trapped in a fugue
of unrealized addiction
content to continue
the journey unwary
the path has been altered
away from one’s dreams
Untitled Painting by Steve Capiz
yellow gold powder-pressed tablets
compressed with soft secrets of time
slay the dragons who roost in the mind
restore balance to an unbalanced brain
counteract deep depressive disorder
square upright the bent psychic shoulders
to stand above legacy shame left by injury
sapping the confident pride of a long ago
powerful life of ebullient existence
a hunched haunted soul now revivified
owing to modern arcane pharma-chemical
harvest of biomolecular magic solutions
“Cynics” by Tom Fedro
when did the laughter die
nothing funny to tickle the heart
or lift the face into a smile
unamused by the defects of age
in a world grown so solemn
it chokes sense of humor
what day did the cynic arise
with an eyeful of unhappy tears
belly bittered by uprising bile
mirth a memory cobwebbed
a rattling dry empty husk
figment of distance from youth
where hides the joy with its
shudders of pleasure at being alive
perhaps it was all an illusion
From my book Human Waters
Poesy plus Polemics 