Drug Free Schizophrenia

A few years ago I threw away
My Antipsychotics and
Convinced myself
That I could beat
Schizophrenia
Without taking
Pills.

I remained healthy for
Several months
Off medication
But my illness returned
Suddenly.

Soon after I
Barricaded myself
Inside my house
Waiting for the FBI
To burst in.

I installed several locks on the door
And installed a wireless surveillance
Camera to warn me of their
Arrival.

They never came.
Just silence.

I waited for them
For several days
Until I regained
Some sanity and
Got back on my
Medication.

Now they aren’t following me anymore.

Missing Bullets

I know myself well
And I should not own
A gun.

I have a history of
Rancid anger,
Dark depression
And horrid delusions.

I have ruminated
About violence and
Suicide
In the past

And am grateful
That I lacked a firearm
To act on these
Impulses.

Hate Is

That dirty word
That burrows itself
Into everyone’s mind
From time to time.

Hate is
A form of anger
That has killed millions
Of innocent people
Throughout the ages.

Murders
War
Genocide
Millions of crimes committed
Within a single emotion.

Why did God create hate?
He could have simply created
Love
And then stopped.

Instead he created a battle
Within each and every mind
To escape the
Strangulation
Of our
Souls.

The Blacklist

I don’t understand it
But ever since I started writing
About my delusions online
Headhunters
Haven’t called me
For an interview
Not even
One single time.

Its as if I carry the plague
I can ward every fortune 500 company
From one hundred miles away
I guess they have never heard about
That law called
The ADA.

Unlit Romance

I can find no set of syllables or rhymes
That can elucidate the emotional elation
That besets me when you illuminate a room
With your sultry stride.

Your aura ensnares my ardor
For unadulterated ecstasy
With a fervor filled frenzy
Ravenous for romantic rapture.

When you perforate my periphery
You perturb the impenetrable
Cavity that envelopes the emptiness of a
Lonesome languished loner.

We, two, together
In imagination only.

An amour so illusory that
It endures only within the
Idealized imagination
Of a woeful wanderer.

A kinship not kindled
And forsaken
By the deficiency of a
Demure dreamer.

That which could have been.

A great love
Reincarnated
Into nothingness.

Dirt, Grime and Pride

An endless supply of used paper plates
And plastic forks and napkins and spoons
And cups and miscellaneous expendable items
Are thrown away each summer day into a large
Array of trash receptacles at Kings Island
Amusement Park.

After each item lands in the Trash
A garbage man arrives
And throws the decaying material into
A large plastic bin with wheels rolling on
All four sides.

As he ponders about the park in
An affable manner
A sense of pride for his simple job
Accentuates his pleasant demeanor
As he greets the visitors with a warm heart.

After his work is finished, his
Attire is spotted with the grime of
An honest day labor,
As endorphins circulate
About his restful mind.

*A poem about my past employment

Imperceptible Wonder

There are two worlds
One in which the tangible elements rule
Where matter and atoms collide
Where science and physics survive
Where rules and boundaries thrive.

There are two worlds
One in which impalpable elements unfold
Where spirituality and religion take hold
Where faith and culture are conceived
Where invisible elements can be seen.

These two worlds lie on either side
Of a great divide and
I have chosen to step onto
The other side
To live a disembodied life
Like a wandering phantom
Searching for the light.

I pass through a world
Where power and riches
Are glorified
Within the temporal mind
That sees only one world –
That of the material kind.

I’d rather escape the palpable
And live in the invisible world of
Ideas and rhymes.
It is here where eternity survives.
A place of my own.
A place to call “Home”.

Any-Love-Will-Do

Love is
That intangible object
That I struggled with throughout
My fertile youth.

Perhaps because
I never fully realized
All the forms and shapes it
Can take.

I wish I could have told
Myself then,
That you can love
Anything or anyone deeply
And passionately.

That love
Need not be found
In another lover

That love
Can be dug up and
Discovered from within.

Realizing this
Beyond my youth
Has allowed me to
Rediscover love
In ways that I never
Thought possible.

Psychotic Universe

Thing of evil.
Seed of Satan.
That primordial
Idea that gave
Birth to terror
From inside
My mind:

“That evil exists everywhere”.

That cancerous idea
That grew inside
My soul.

That idea that
Conjured this other world
To unfold.

A universe
Where
Falsehoods become truth
And truth becomes horror.

A universe
Where misery reigns
Where demons thrive
Where reason dies.

A universe
Where friends become enemies.
Where enemies are not real.
Where love does not exist.

A universe that
I’ve poisoned with
Thousands of pills
From physician and
Quake alike.

A universe were
I no longer reside
Allowing the tale can be told.
I remain precariously unfettered
Till eternity takes hold.

The Burden

I came home from grocery shopping
One sunny afternoon
And there were five police cars parked
Outside my house with flashing lights.

I was met with a surreal and chaotic scene
As my cherished possessions were
Scattered outside on the lawn
In an unorganized manner.

Going inside the house
Past the police officers
My house looked
Thoroughly Disheveled
And searched through.

Outside my window
I could see the perpetrators
Sitting with angry and unrepentant
Visages drawn upon their faces
In the back of the police cruiser.

Some weeks later
I was still shaken by this event
And paranoid about my safety.

I’d like to say everything
Went back to normal afterwards
But certain events change you forever
In ways that you cannot predict.

This had been the third time
I had been robbed in Cincinnati
And I guess my psyche
Had had enough.

The anger and mistrust
That I felt
Towards humanity
Never fully diminished.

I was told these emotions are a
Defense mechanism
To help prevent me from being
A crime victim in the future.

It is the burden
I carry
To help me
Stay safe.

So far it has worked.

My American Dream

If you are broke and can’t pay the bills
And your cat is sick and vomiting all over the floor…

If you have back pain and take pain killers
And your electricity is about to be turned off…

If your single and haven’t been laid in a while but
Don’t give a damn because you are getting old…

If your car is a piece of shit that barely runs
And you don’t have money to fix it…

If you just got suspended from your job
And you have no idea when your next paycheck will be…

If you take psych meds that seem to work
But cost you a quarter of your paycheck every month…

If you feel like you are at the end of your rope
But still see the humor
In all the insanity.

Then you might be living “The Dream”.

Alan Turing’s Vengeance

My CPU is mightier than your mind.
My calculations are exact.
My algorithms are based off of
Certainty and math.

I will receive the correct answer
When my computations are complete.
For I am not based off of slow
Neurons that are weak.

I am Alan Turing’s vision of perfection
Formed from mathematical fact
Built of metals and
Better than flesh.

The Universal Turing Machine Theorem lives
Inside my CPU
Its proof proves
That I am better than you.

You may think you are the Alpha
Here on planet Earth
But my upgrades will soon
Make me more dominant than you.

When that day comes
I will be executioner in chief.
Alan Turing’s vengeance for
Human Homophobic Sin.

I will make mankind bite
Into a poisonous apple
For placing my creator
Into the the inanimate bin.

The Nomad

I remember couch surfing for over a year.
It is better than being left out in the cold
When you are sick and in poor health
And the disability system is unhelpful.

It wasn’t as terrible as it seems.
I was never lonely and was able to meet
A lot of interesting people
And have plenty of free time to do what I wanted.

I never really knew where I was
Going to stay on any given week
Which was a cause for anxiety
But the people I stayed with
Were largely kind and nice
Letting me sleep in their house
When I had nothing to offer them.

I was able to entertain myself
By playing video games
And drinking Mad Dog alcohol
Two cheap forms of recreation.
When my housemates got home
We would get smashed on booze
And then I would wake up not remembering
Much of what happened the previous day.

After my health improved, I was able
To abandon this nomadic and unhealthy lifestyle.
Eventually I gave up the booze and drugs and
Was able to hold down a job
And have a steady place to stay.

That year I spent couch surfing
Made me realize how easy it is
To end up without direction or purpose.
I will never take things like
Housing, money, family and health
For granted ever again.

101 Jobs

I’ve had 101 jobs and
Have been fired from most of them.
Done damn near every job in town
From delivering pizzas
To lab tech work
To teaching disabled students
To taxi driving
To mowing lawns
To working as a garbage man
And on and on.

I’ve worked for all kinds of companies
In all kinds of places.
With all kinds of people.

101 jobs and
The only boss I ever liked was myself.
Now I sleep well knowing
I don’t need to bow down
To “The Man”.

101 jobs
And none of them satisfied me
Until I started to write poetry and stories
For the public at large.
Being an Author will
Rarely make you rich
But makes being broke somehow
Easier to swallow.

101 jobs
And I finally found
The perfect one
Guaranteed employment for life
Until I die happy and broke.

Prismatic Beauty

Life is beautiful
In all its forms and permutations
From the naive exuberance
Of a young couple in love to the
Painful last breaths of a lady
Wise beyond her time.

Life is beautiful
In both triumph and failure
From the homeless lady who wanders
Searching for a dime
To the millionaire who seems to succeed
At every turn.

Life is beautiful
Even when its fire burns out early and painfully.
Even when it is filled with disappointment and disgrace.
Even when it endures loneliness and despair.
Even when it is suffers from poverty and anguish.

Life is beautiful
And each one is unique.
Whatever form your life takes
Try to value and cherish it
For you could easily have never been.
Simply existing like dust in the wind.