The Heart Key

Death becomes my own heart; from red to black
The Heart-Key did what it wilt and beat for to have her love.
Unrequited love devours itself as
Death becomes my own heart.

I stab myself in the heart.
The hole of the heart is where the love is;
From the heart’s hole
Comes the soul of a suicide star
Into the white fire, into the black flames, into the red flares
Of the beauty of love that is the Unrequited Female Will.

Love is my Will: let it bleed.

Will and Love devour me.
Will and love are the soul of her.
Will and love are the soul of Death.
Will and Love devour me.

My Heart-Key opens the lock of the spaceship of Horus
And do thank her
For this beautiful experience of Unrequited Love and Will.

Copyright © 2010 Jarrod Dickson

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Jarrod Dickson was born on the 22nd of October, 1986.  He grew up in Hahei in the Coromandel and went to Dilworth School.  Jarrod currently resides in Auckland and is studying towards a BA at Auckland University.  He is an avid writer and has had a novella published by Chipmunka Publishing in the UK.  Jarrod was diagnosed with schizophrenia at the age of 20 and has spent time in a psychiatric hospital for psychosis.

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I am the Alienationist

I take the rape out of therapist
I take the psycho out of psychologist
I take the selling out of counselling
I take the power out of powerlessness
I take the hope out of hopelessness
I take the use out of abuse
I expropriate expropriators
I alienate alienation
I take I out
Get it?

Copyright © 2010 Dave Bedggood

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Dave Bedggood is a retired university lecturer, father, grandfather and revolutionary Marxist currently living in Auckland, Aotearoa, New Zealand.  He is fighting to end the crazy, diseased, barbaric capitalist system.  His slogan is “don’t kill yourself, kill capitalism!”.

Transfusion

I lie in this bed
with no energy left to burn
no matter how hard I try
there’s just nothing left.

I gaze out the window
as blood is being pumped into my veins
I’m hopeful
as some kind soul
has given me the chance
At feeling normal again.

Pills, water and food
all take a lot of energy
just to swallow
though I know
all will help in the long run.

The hours tick by
as my veins get filled with healthy blood
three hours and the first bag is flowing
among my bodies’ tissue and organs.

Bag two is up
another long three hours
have just begun
as I lay here and watch
blood trickling down the tube.

I hope to feel human again
as new replaces the old
I beg for improvement
but only time can tell.

I watch the blood
as it drips into the river
which flows freely
inside my body.

I soak up my surroundings
the sterile smell
the plain white sheets
people in uniform
all line the corridors.

There are no happy faces here
just the look of concentration and concern
as the unknown of everyone’s situation
spills out among the atmosphere.

Everyone here is aiming for the same target
though reality is, not all will get there.

Copyright  © 2010 Keryn Densem

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Keryn Densem is a 22 year old living in Canterbury.  Keryn has been writing for the last seven years as an outlet through her struggles with depression, anxiety and various health problems including the recent diagnosis of a chronic blood condition.  Her main inspiration is her twin brother who fought childhood cancer and now lives with the serious late effects of his illness and the treatments he had to beat it.

PAIN AGAIN

Falling through life…
panic and strife…
can’t believe I’m in this situation again…
can’t believe I’m in so much pain…

I ask myself why
as I ponder times gone by
how could I have ended up here again
sitting alone in so much pain..

Is the lack of sleep
the scars the cuts
they run so deep
is it my demeanour
or is it just me

Maybe I can run
build a new life that’s more fun
that’ll make me happy
I’ll leave it all behind..

What if it’s me
maybe I’ll ask
but what if they agree
what will I do

Run from myself
that’s just stupid
not again….
not the pain..

Stop hurting me!
STOP HURTING ME!!

Copyright  © 2010 Rhys Adams

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Rhys Adams is 30 years old and currently lives in the South Island.  His poetic inspiration stems from living like a gypsy for a few years while he travelled around New Zealand to find himself.  Rhys has suffered from depression and anxiety since he can remember.

Grace

Beneath this unlined paper a powerful prayer is born
a prayer that is greater than ever from a heart that has been torn
so many times this prayers been lost amongst the darkest mind
and now my heart is open and I leave the black behind
there is no room for ego no spaces left for lies
I’m opening, accepting and that part of me just dies
and what gives birth is boundless magnificence takes place
what I feel within me is the innocence of Grace
a presence that is woman flowing, bold and strong
I look at my reflection and I see that nothings wrong
the time has come to open that time is here and now
the time to let give rise to a new and healthy vow
a vow to stay wide open to truth, to trust, to love
I offer up my vow, my prayer to the heavens up above
and now I rest in silence whilst I softly breathe
and all that Grace will offer me I’m open to receive
the cocoon of shame is broken there is nowhere left to hide
the fear of doubt is over to reveal what is inside
a butterfly emerges the wings of life unfold
and in my hands I have a gift the light of Grace I hold
and guided by this light I soar across the seas
embracing stormy weather never dropping to my knees
my heart it opens wider to what may lay ahead
for the darkness that was in me is now and truly dead
the angels that surround me with a loving warm embrace
guide me oh so gently through the challenges I face
it’s time, it’s time to let go, to spread my wings and fly
to the woman who I used to be, Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Copyright  © 2010 Sheree Carbery

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Sheree Carbery is a 38 year old solo mother.  She is Director of Conscious Women, a group of women dedicated to making a difference on the planet.  She is also a holistic coach and healer who has healed through the darkness of PND, psychosis, sexual abuse and drug addiction.  Poetry and prose has been a powerful healing tool and she is currently writing a stage play and a book.

Soul Deep Isolation

Soul-deep isolation
alone among the crowds
so distant, disconnected
I thought about those words
Pen wrote “soul-deep isolation”
and I understood the meaning
those words made total sense
reminded me I am not alone
the ‘aspie’ community knows
understands when other do not
quirky, different, odd somehow
chaotic dark jumble thoughts
intensified cascade of chaos
complex analytic processing
engines full power, high speed
crash you can no longer think
just blank piercing empty pain
used up and then throw away
will I ever connect, be a real part
my destiny a parallel existence
I look upon all the smiling faces
like an alien, alienated, alone
another world that’s not mine
where I will never quite fit!

Copyright  ©2010 Alyson Bradley

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Alyson Bradley, grew up in London, where she worked in IT.  She moved to New Zealand about 6 years ago.  Alyson has been diagnosed with an interesting mix of  Aspergers, Bipolar, ADHD, Dyslexia and Dyspraxia.  She loves being creative and uses her knowledge and experience to self advocate on her private website.  Writing has helped her on her journey.

Life Dancing in a Rear View Mirror

I’m a double-edged samurai sword in a pregnant tsunami,
a conundrum, an atheist, a monotheist.

I apply a three blade razor to a two-year stubble,
the mirror coated in more blood than an erupting aorta,

Touching the pain of passing, I eat daisy chains
constructed from barbed wire fencing and knitting needles,

when a reality check finds me eating dried apricots
to cure the cancer I caught from just being alive.

I bite back fear, obliterate mind numbing memories,
and place carefully on a rough round dining table, souls

that have been hung out to dry on a windless day,
the irony, cooling on a line where clothes haven’t been for months.

I suck Lollipops with bad teeth, bad vibes and a very bad breath.
The dustman empties my outtake weekly, the rest I keep,

and so the Sword of Damocles cuts deep,
my face bleeding with the pain of despondency.

The dark annals of my writing echo my living thoughts,
and those reading my dying thoughts will cringe.

They didn’t help me – families, the depth of my ache,
several children who don’t ring, siblings who squabble.

I pass my memory to the volumes of poetry I have written,
my knuckles bare from years of chagrined living.

Succinctly, I approach the sunset of life, the sword gone,
just painted visions of a life lost in a missing rear view mirror.

Copyright © 2010 Thane W. Zander

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Thane Zander has lived all over New Zealand, either as an itinerant child (Father moving to jobs from deepest south to farthest north) or as a 27 year veteran in the Royal New Zealand Navy. He was struck down with Bipolar Disorder in 2000 and has since moved “back” to Palmerston North and environs. The onset of Bipolar Disorder also heralded his entry into the poetry world, and from 2000 to 2005 he had written around 250 poems. This accelerated from 2006 to well over 1000 poems, and counting.

Blood Whispers

The ticking
of lifes clock
is loud
in my ears
it keeps me
awake
throughout
the night

The ticks
can stop
from time
to time
but they
jump
start again

When dawn arrives
I open my eyes to a beautiful day

Birds
are singing
the sun
is shining
I am
ALIVE!

Copyright © 2010 Sue Larsen

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Sue Larsen is 40 years old.  She was born is Hastings and raised in Napier.  She currently resides in Kati Kati.  Sue has one 18 year old daughter.  Sue has been writing poetry since 2000 because “someone told me it would be a good way of expressing my feelings/emotions”.  She has been diagnosed with Dependent Personality Disorder.

TEH DYSLEXIA CLOUD

image

Alsoyn Dresepsion Dthymysia Brdleya Fierngs Fists
Five Silver Liinngs Bnlid Buldiings
Diiovisn Lkie Misnd Like Clayton Manedss Melahoncly Mental
Payne Pain Health  Intrecosption Jewelie Jinode
Barr New Order Poerty Out West

Protiomng Mtaenl Health Rveceory from Mental Ileslns
Silent Pain Sing Smtory Weheatr Suciide Syalvi
Plath Teira Naahi Tanhe W Zaendr Tir Na Nog Waiktaere
Taylor-Neslon Corntol Detah  Epiplesy Flerows

Frida Pablo God Grief Hope
Mental Iellnss MH 01 Miriam Hysteria
Ian Crtius Drenea Butler Joy  Mine Louise

Copyright © 2010 Steve McCabe

CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Steve McCabe is a musician, songwriter, computer programmer and systems analyst.  He is currently living in Te Puru, on the Coromandel Peninsula of New Zealand.  Steve was born in 1966.  He suffered a heart attack at the young age of 36 and has bouts of clinical depression with panic attacks.  He has been taking Arapax (Paroxetine) for last few years.

Muddle

I am knotted

we all are
sometimes
finding ourselves
in a muddle
EM Forster
wrote whole
books about it
the way in which
we undo ourselves
always looking
for a view
but looking
in the wrong
direction
we want
so much of
something else
sometimes
we forget
to let
ourselves
arrive where
we are
& of course
if we never
arrive
we can never
leave

Copyright © 2010 Miriam Barr


CONTRIBUTORS NOTE:
Miriam Barr is from the Far North and lives in Auckland.  Her poems have been published in Landfall, JAAM, Poetry NZ, Black Mail Press and other places.  She is a performance poet with The Literatti and was creative director of the group for three years (2007-2010).  She works as a mental health promoter for Like Minds, Like Mine and is service director for Engage Aotearoa.