Depression

I Manipulate By jfarrell

I Manipulate

By jfarrell

 

(“From the cover of Heaven’s gate, I manipulate” great lyrics from steve taylor)

 

Rasputin is me, I am Rasputin;

I tell you my story, show you my scars

I share my pain with you

And you will jump to my defence

Jump between me and the bullet

Take the sword thrust,

In my stead.

 

I frown and lower my gaze

I show you the pieces of my sundered heart

Let you hold and feel this dead thing that is my soul

Let you dance in the dust that was my dreams

And you give your heart to me

In tender whispers you pledge your undying love

To me.

 

Amongst tears, with nastiness running from my nose

I tell you of the wrongs done to me

I tell you of those that hurt and ridiculed me

To show the truth, the strength, of my pain

I take the knife and slash my arm, over and over

My pain angers you to kill,

For me.

 

Rasputin is me, I am Rasputin

A manipulative, conniving…. monk

Dead many years (executed, I think);

I want you to like me

I’ll say anything you wanna hear.

To keep you here

I manipulate

Author's Notes/Comments: 

this is about me, not christians.... just loved steve taylor's song "I Manipuate", great song, great title

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This caged bird don’t sing By jfarrell

This caged bird don’t sing

By jfarrell

 

Yes, I want to be free

Free to live, laugh and love

Free to enjoy, to be happy

To be normal.

 

To spread my wings and fly.

But

It’s safe here in my cage

No risk of getting hurt.

 

By something new,

By someone new.

No risk of a new cage,

“better the devil you know…”

 

This bird doesn’t sing;

This bird does dance;

This bird sits sulkily silent in his cage.

Already dead?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

response to a poem i read earlier

Down the drain By jfarrell

Down the drain

By jfarrell

 

What do you want me to say?

I tried to live my life your way.

Ignore the anger, forget the pain,

Get knocked down, just to get up again.

Aspire to conform,

Telling no-one where I’m from.

Fitting in, don’t stand out

Don’t give them anything to shout about.

I tell you, it’s insane,

As I watch my life slide down the drain.

 

I try so hard to keep it together,

Like my horses, closely tethered;

Pay my bills, go to work

I play blind, as you treat me like a jerk.

Cutting names and snide remarks,

The Wolf inside wants to bite, not bark;

My teeth want to tear and rip

The Wolf within wants, from your blood, to sip.

I tell you, it’s insane,

As I watch my life flow down the drain.

 

I know a peace waits for me;

The pain I feel… I will be free;

I know there is a place… where I really belong…

The journey there…. not overly long;

A nick here, a slash there…

Well… we all know life isn’t fair;

My blood pools around me like a flower,

Lying here in the shower.

I tell you, I’m not insane,

As I give my life to the drain.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for those who doubt.... look, i really can rhyme, hehe, and write a 'proper' poem

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Fight or Flight By jfarrell

Fight or Flight

By jfarrell

 

The door opens…

The unseen dog goes for me…

It’s owner raises his fist as I cower..

“I’ve had enough of people like you….”

THUMP!!!!

 

My therapists tell me, the way the brain works,

All them hormones and chemicals being released,

It’s all about ‘Fight or Flight’

Our body preparing us

To resist or to run.

 

I freeze.

Anticipating the pain,

Anticipating the shame;

There is no running or fighting back

Just waiting for inevitable violence.

 

6 years old, my dad drunk, angry because….

I couldn’t spell bronchitis…. I took the wrong book to school…

My sister hurt herself at home, while I’m at school…

He’s mainly angry because he is unhappy with his lot

And this is his way of dealing with it.

 

6 years old - where would I run to?

6 years old - I’m gonna fight my dad?

Maybe, this is why no ‘fight or flight’;

Just waiting for the inevitable;

Waiting for the beating.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

no more fight or flight for me - my invisible dragon gonna burn everyone ;-)

Gutter rat By jfarrell

Gutter rat

By jfarrell

 

Born in the gutter,

Drunk, violent parents,

On a council estate,

Stealing next door’s electricity…

How far from the sewers do you expect me to rise?

 

I dragged myself from the excrement,

Covered in bruises,

Both outside and in;

Took that ‘greasy pole’ in both hands

And pulled myself up.

 

After a very thorough scrubbing up and hot wash,

I got myself through college,

Into a career;

Even to the dizzying heights of

‘Acting-Deputy-Officer-in-Charge’.

 

However hard you scrub, however hot the wash,

The stench of the gutter, the sewers,

Stays with you.

Everyone can smell the waste

The rot.

 

And what lives in the rot

Has been eating away at me,

My whole life.

Rat. Rodent. Vermin.

I have always been a gutter rat.

A parasite.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

wonder if i can upgrade and become a stainless steel rat - always loved harry harrison

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Solitary night

 
 
Solitary night
 
tears of dissatisfaction
 
choking on memories
 
a torrent as the dark presses in
 
Searching, seeking
 
the long-awaited slumber
 
of each miserable, useless regret of yesterday
 
Yet, afraid to face the uncertainty of tomorrow
 
 
 

To hear you say…

To hear you say…

By jfarrell

 

To hear you say “I love you”

I would have sprouted wings and flew

So happy, so joyous those words would have made me feel

From you, my mother

 

To hear you say “I’m proud of you”

I would have pulled the stars from the sky

And made of them a crown

For you, my mother

 

I heard you say “I should have smothered you at birth”

And I feel crushed, hated

Outcast and rejected

By you, my mother

 

I heard you say “I should have had you aborted”

And I feel aborted;

Stopped, cast aside

And incomplete

 

I still hear what you said

After all these years, over all these many miles

Has my silence, my absence, gotten through to you

After all these years, can you still hear me

 

But,

I still want to hear you say

“I love you”

To me, your son

Author's Notes/Comments: 

sadly true

Building Bridges

Building Bridges

By jfarrell

 

Watch them burn…

Isn’t it beautiful?

That black, poisonous cloud, 25 years over South-East London…

Last time I saw my mum.

 

The pagoda pub….

Back then… burned down many times since,

With many different names…

Last time I saw my dad.

 

“Jim, you’re so negative……”

“Jim, you should really change your act…”

At least, on this one, I struck the match.

Last time I saw my, so-called, ‘friends’.

 

I’ve done my building bridges;

And all got spat back in my face;

Now I hold the matches

And I will set light to any bridge I see..

 

Take my hand and stand with me,

In the centre of the inferno;

The raging fire of bitterness;

The popping and thundering of burning hurt.

 

Put your arms around my waist,

And dance with me,

As if this was the last night on earth….

And now, is all we have.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

baby with a box of matches

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It's getting harder...



It's getting harder to remember


what I was like


before I was damaged,


before you tore me open


and forced your darkness in.


I have tried to get it out


by opening my skin


but there is always more


left deep within.



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