forthelonghaul.org - struggles with mental illness

“A little over four months ago I was in a mental hospital for about a month. In the U.S., mental illness is something not talked about and we are taught to feel a lot of shame around and feel that we are alone. For this reason I feel it is important to be open about mental illness. And so, I dedicate this poem to all of you who struggle with mental illness.”

Mental Gift

Poppin' pills daily - got me crazy,

insurance co-pays track me weighly.

Addictions got me locked in ways I never knew to be;

meekly evade the subliminal toxicity;

lifetime supply prescribed,

neatly packaged individually;

separate and alone,

I watch my mind disengage to the beat of a metronome;

see through to the strings of the master

who controls the puppets dome.

Judgment cut by the

shrieks-of-sirens-,

-sarrenating-souls-in-the-search-for-solace.-

-Solstice-emanating-from-the-tides-of-oceans-,

-throwing-me-on-my-side-,

-hands-stretched-out,-raw-and-vulgar.

Moving through the motions

that the doctor diagnosed me.

Crooked Beauty is a documentary film on the experiences of Icarus co-founder Ashley McNamara set to powerful visual images. The documentary is premiering at San Francisco's Cinematheque on April 17, at 9pm! For more info, and to see the trailer online, go to www.crookedbeauty.com. Facebook event page: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=116462821701469

If you can’t charge a person with a crime,

What right does the community have

To make them do time?

I’ve done time for suicide,

Time for travel fatigue,

Time for being bullied,

Time for grieving too.

When will people get it.

When will they see.

It’s not okay to drug me

And lock me away without a plea.

What’s my crime?

Charge me with an offence.

Don’t say that’s irrelevant

Because that’s not making sense.

I’m trying to find a loop-hole

In these loopy laws

That say that that torture

Can be used

On people who do not abuse.

I’m trying to find a way

That will say that’s not okay.

I’m trying to say what’s sick

Are the people who treat

With an order by our law

That puts the community

As the authority

When the general public

Doesn’t know

About what happens

Behind those white-coated doors,

Where chemicals are injected

And people are not listened to

Rather told that they must agree

That they must comply

And if they don’t

They’ll be dosed up

Even higher than before

Perhaps then some ECT

Or if it comes to it, psychosurgery.

Not all members of the community

Are aware that they can anytime

 Call psychiatric services

On a person who

Has a history of attempted suicide.

The public probably wish

They could call that needle sticking team

On the sleazy man in the bar,

The angry neighbour who yells,

The junkie who says ‘Fuck off’,

The beggar who asks for change,

The boss who tells them they’re fired,

And the stranger who disses them.

Can they?

Well only if the person

Has had a psychiatric history.

Youthful and bright- when skipping madly down the hill
towards the oak trees and past the water mill
the green leaves, secret shells, and animal bones

Color Synaesthesia is a poem that I wrote for a class assignment. It was subsequently published in my college's student journal of art and literature. I hope you enjoy it...Sometimes I cry when I read it. :(