Writing As A Form Of Therapy

Very true @Former-Member

After the dig, a good archaeologist will carefully take the findings or remains back to the lab... brushing away the dirt and rock to reveal the detail underneath...

The good archaeologist will look at this artefact from the past, turn it this way and that... study it... date it... measure it... compare it with other artefacts from previous digs...

Thank you Teej... a valuable insightful nudge to inspire more writings in this chapter... hugs... 🙂

Hypomania

Hypomania hits, and your feet don't touch the ground,
Even though life's reality is all just ground and pound;
So here you are floating, above the messy world,
Delighting in the pleasures of your wings at last unfurled.

Do you connect with mere mortals down there in the dust?
Sorry, no you don't, you follow the soaring as you must;
This compulsive connection with all and everyone,
Some peeps take drugs to play pretends, but to us that's just half done.

Truth told we need some drugs to keep us on our way,
To stop those damn brain chemicals from holding kooky sway;
We need to be in a state to think to ever think at all,
And then to come to truths that start Truth's rolling ball.

Truth's wrecking ball wreaks its havoc on all most peeps think real,
And then begins the real journey to both control and enjoy what we feel;
Dark pain and dark pasts, haunting our days to nights,
Never a moment with your team in the corner of this unending fight.

But Truth's wrecking ball swings forward and it swings back,
And you find yourself making up for the things before you lacked;
Just as sure Truth's ball comes back to break more supposed truth,
Those boring hurtful patterns laid down hard in your youngest youth.

I'm so high, so high above the world, the great wall is lost,
I count a trillion things in instants but can never count the cost;
At once I love everyone deeply truly as if they were a part of me,
But the hypomania keeps on soaring, ever wild and free.

When I get like this, I'm floating out in deepest darkest space,
No person ever imagined soaring this far away from the whole human race;
I soar above the gods, casting my shadow on their meanness,
Then I lose interest and test my wings in ever-higher reaching keenness.

What's a planet... a star... a galaxy... a universe... a multiverse... a panoply of infinite timelines,
What's natural human pattern recognition, projecting onto chaos a whole bunch of signs;
It's okay, I feel it now, the wax it begins to wane,
My natural cycle is ridden, now I will try to be sane.

Do You Feel Sad?

Do you feel sad when you realise that you are the last person alive with a particular memory... what will happen to this poor memory when you pass... who will be left to mourn its passing... who will be left to mourn yours... do you feel sad when a loved one dies or a relationship ends... where does the sad come from...where does your sad go when you die...

Free

I walked out of the church and blew out all the candles,
I dropped all of my baggage and tore off all the handles,
I lit up my passports and watched them sizzle and burn away,
These made up human borders will one day lose their sway,
I stood in a queue and withdrew all my money from the bank,
I burned up every single note, it's all just a useless wank.

No religion, no stuff, no nationality, no money, no ID,
With lighter steps I walk away, the freest of the free.

See

See, I got these problems with my mental health,

In an uncaring world, people only care about their wealth;

But I care, and that's what drives me insane,

Unrequited love for the human race messing up my brain.

Monumental suffering as billions do without,

Our obscene society whitewashes guilt with a pout;

Now I see this painful truth as obvious as day,

And everyone ignoring it won't make it go away.

Soccer moms and drinking dads, filling life with fluff,

And here am I saying "Stop the distraction! Enough is enough!"

Acknowledge the problems and let's all get to work,

Problems don't fix themselves while watching Miley twerk.

Consumer culture killed the world, so let's all buy a thing,

Even love's for sale, because you've gotta buy that ring;

All this disposable useless stuff you all are buying,

None of you challenge it; you're not even trying.

Everyone is peddling hate and fear, that's what you're consuming,

It's not far from here to Zyclon B getting all the showers fuming;

History ignored, so let's put the playlist on endless repeat,

Sit back and watch it all play out; "Hey, this is neat!"

"But we couldn't do a thing to stop it" is so often said,

And Pilate's hands are dipped in water to get rid of the red;

There are lots of fixes to our problems, if obstructors got out of the way,

We are all responsible for this mess, and now it's time to pay.

But no, alas, the crap remains, and cynical politicians vie for your vote,

Far be it for us to share, as we turn back another boat;

We like our greed, it's ours to feed and make it ever greater,

Morality left decades ago with a wave and a "See you later".

See, I got these problems with my mental health,

In an uncaring world, people only care about their wealth;

But I care, and that's what drives me insane,

Unrequited love for the human race messing up my brain.

So @Silenus like the poem :

its about a lot of things. Can you write a poem on how you feel :

like hate the condition love the person similar to how Pontious Pilate may have felt about Jesus Christ?

I Love that.

This morning:

As I lay awake in bed

i hold onto my dreary head

my fists are tight i cannot feel

the pain I'm in is not sitting still

My face is wet from all the tears

I'm holding on to so many fears

If only I could just let it go

Then I'll be able to say no

The night is rough without a sleep

I could hear every murmur and beep

I don't want another tablet she says

But then again who really cares

The pain I'm in is hard to say

for that little girl just wants to play

instead she was touched and touched again

why she didn't even have a friend

I close my eyes and all I see

is what you have done to me

I try to wipe away my tears

and out comes all the fears

And now i sit and the sun is out

But why do I have this doubt

I don't why I wrote this today

I guess it's just another day