Suffering So Little . . . Really

My body feels like it is surging with electricity,
My lower back racked in continuing spasticity,
My tonicity confused by an inner complexity,
Could it be toxicity that so disturbs my felicity?
So very weary and yet too leery of physicians;
Yet such an awesome autumn day to blossom
In mind and spirit despite the bind of the body;
And shall I complain of pain? There is no gain;
Some whining words will only drive me insane
And nothing change within my physical range;
No, ice is nice on my back and lack of medicine
Is the sad position of many in my ill condition,
And so many in such situations far, far worse!
Oh, and age could account for this awful stage,
But how many more are older and yet bolder
Than I? And with this, shall I die and fly away?
No, no . . . This is not the day; here shall I stay
And make my way as best I can . . . thankfully!


Just Around the Bend

What a strange place to be, so estranged from reality,
Medicated beyond lucidity into the realm of absurdity,
Where what exists is rearranged in an ailing exchange
Of truth for fantasy in the horrid travesty of the vanity
Of doctors trying to cure what had been plainly pure;
But, then, it was the trick of your feigning to be sick,
And now comes the kick of being forever the addict;
What about now, though? Does clear truth still glow
Below the surface of your nerve-wracked existence
In persistent insistence that this is not genuine living
But only false pretense in defense of silly escapism?
What a strange place to be, truly, in deranged reality
That is not reality at all but a fall into a bad nightmare,
But you don’t know that yet, do you? Still, it is so true!
Pills may blind you to bills and gain relief from pain,
But life still goes on to the end . . . just around the bend,
Just around the bend!

Just Sleep … Just Sleep

Oh ho! Listen! What will take you off this train of emotional pain?
Where the hell is the out-door to the floor of regained sanity?
Sound the bell for the bright, little pill that’ll take you uphill!
That’s right! No need for fright, fight, or flight; just pop it,
And all will be well, but… oh, you may feel kinda numb and dumb,
But no more plumbing the depths of emotion or reeling from feeling;
No more dealing with any desperation for healing…
Now ain’t that appealing!
Ah, maybe two or three more to stop the revolving door of insanity;
Just remember, there’s no place for vanity here, my dear,
But no sheer terror either, and isn’t that nice; your brain’ll be ice!
Oh, and here’s a nice vest made from the best, and it’s for you, too!
God, did you say? Oh now, now … God is but a wink and a nod
And perchance even a rod if you’re naughty; would you like a toddy?
Just lay down your body; you’re feeling groggy, no doubt?
Ah, just a bout with the medication in dedication to your health;
It works in stealth, but the wealth it brings’ll make you feel
Like a king… An emotional pauper, you say? So improper of you!
Now where are you going? We’ve just got the needle ready
For your arm so you don’t harm yourself anymore like a boar…
Wait! Come back here and take your bait! Stop all this nonsense
And balking at medicinals and talking about another way,
About seeing the light of day! Your imagination, dear, now here
This’ll cheer you up, then you’ll be fine and ready to dine
With the others ~ all sisters and brothers, eh ~ and they all have
On their very best vest, too, just like you! Ah, now, that’s better;
Just one stick, one little pin-prick and no more being homesick
Like an uneducated hick… There now, all better, and you’ll sleep
In the keep of this nice, little room and without e’en a peep…
Don’t think or blink or wink … just sleep … just sleep
Just sleep…


Note: No, I am not in an insane asylum or psychiatric ward, although after reading this you may think I need to be locked up! LOL  Point in fact, this was all inspired by my own ruminations of living in an overly-medicated society. (Agree or disagree on this point; it’s quite alright with me.) Otherwise, I’m doing quite well.  Originally published July 2016; being republished due to renewed attention … and I’m still doing quite well! 


You feel him rising up inside, though you’ve tried to keep him down,
Drowned in alcohol and pills — you’ve been thru it all — and you fall;
You can’t even stand, and the band in your mind plays an insane tune
That kind of makes you want to take a chance, dance in full frenzy
Like a bull in a china shop; yeah, and you chop the air with your arm
Not far from harm, but the dæmon’s not here to charm but to alarm,
And so you feel him rising up even more; not surprising, you’ve been
Here before, right? Now it’s night, but the dark inside is far more stark,
Right? And you’re out of sight; no one sees you but nobody believes you
Anyway, right? And so you fight alone, again; begin again and again
And again, and you begin to fall from your tall perch on your big bed,
You hit your head, nothing’s said as the dæmon’s fed more and more;
It’s nothing but gore, and you feel like an emotional whore, and you
Can see where he tore into your heart that’s racing in its frantic pacing,
But you can’t stop it, see? Frack the bills, where are those damn pills!
More pulsating elevation from the television in escalation of tribulation;
Pills! More pills; the real deal to heal, right? Make the dæmon go away
Tonight, just for tonight, but there’s only one more left, that’s all
And it’s so damn small, and so you scream — it’s a nightmare dream —
And you call for help like a little whelp but no one answers and silent
Enhancers from neurogenic shock-waves that paves the way to insanity
As you battle anxiety, so very cold and unseen, so very bold and keen;
One small pill to fill your night with peace, eh? Will this ever cease?

God, Preachers, and Healing

“You don’t need medication for depression,” the minister taught
As he brought out his chart. “Studies show what you should know;
Nobody gets better with pills for meals, trust the Lord to heal!”
Several mouths in the congregation gave their “amen” approbation.
But the man of cloth saw a sloth in a pew that gave him his cue.

“You there! You look skeptical, not a receptacle of God’s glory!
You’ve never believed, have you? Never received the holy Spirit?”
I shifted on the seat, sifted through my thoughts, and drifted
Back to times gone by for lack of anything to say with no dismay.
“Listen to me, the Lord can heal everything with which you deal.”


Smiling, I looked at him sweating and lying; would I start crying?
As he was flying into an holy frenzy, I was trying to keep my cool,
But my face must have given a trace that I thought him a disgrace;
“You don’t trust the Lord, but even dogs eat crust from his table!
Go ahead and tell me, if you die are you going to heaven or hell?”

With that question posed, I rose up tall and straight, without hate;
Looking into his eyes, I could see the lies, and the roil of turmoil;
Slowly I spoke, not to provoke, but suddenly something in me awoke.
“Sir, God has been good; she has never turned her back nor do I lack;
And for so long now the Spirit has been mine and treats me just fine.”


Already stunned by reference to “she,” the minister could hardly see.
“But you, sir, seem to me like a man who struggles with the repression
Of very deep depression, saying and braying what he wants to believe
Rather than what he needs to receive; a man telling his congregation
What they want to hear, selling them lies while hearts cry with pain.”

Shocked silence hung thickly in the air, blocked any word to be heard
Except mine, so I continued to opine, “You are one sinister minister
And only half-believe and then deceive from your own torn-apart heart,
Instead of talking like a real human instead of balking at the truth;
Instead of being brutally honest, you snootily look down with a frown.”


Mouth open, spirit broken, he looked now like only a token of ministry;
Among the congregation there were a few cheers, yet some were in tears;
“Now all of you listen to me, see, and be enlightened, not frightened,
And I will tell you, it’s true, God loves you and gives you life anew;
Our mothering God her Spirit freely gives that you and I might live.”

All eyes were fixed on me with mixed emotions, but no bit of commotion;
“Jesú came offering light, life and love from above, but what is unseen
Is far more than what is seen, and no one is keen enough to understand
To steal from heaven, nor leaven the truth with acquired fire of desire;
You ask, but do not bask in glory; your task is in your unfolding story.”


Still finely suited, the now-broken minister wept, no more pretense kept;
Among the people, some cried, some smiled, some tried to keep their calm,
Applying balm of prayer lifted high into the air, but some would not spare
Freeing themselves in agreeing with what was spoken as some angelic token
Gifted for them to be lifted out of cruel endless course of insane remorse.

Asked what next, I answered, “Go to cross and steeple, but also to people
Who will help bear your burden, and know that medication is not dedication,
But physiological remediation; fly to the good Shepherd, hold him and cry,
But try to remember Jesú called physicians in admission among his apostles;
And our Mother God has been revealing healing medicines since time began.”