Largely Happy

You took the man I married
the man who loved me

You kidnapped and killed
a man who brought me kittens and cream cake
and endless laughter
Who said he’d love me the rest of his life.

What rest did I get after you took his?

Now I live with a facsimile
who thinks I have his worst interests at heart
Who doesn’t see my heart breaking
As I try to reason, be logical, love him

I ask, ‘Coffee darling?’
He hears, ‘Useless bastard!’
I go shopping
He says I’m soliciting

Friends are hired killers
He thinks I have a demon

I wake to find him watching me
Our sharpest knife in his hand

Copyright © 2010 Lynda Finn

My darling husband was schizophrenic. He died, having been discharged “into the care of the community” with no doctor or social-worker follow-up. Believing he had cancer, and having been refused financial help by the government, he starved himself to death.


Marnie of the E Street Shelter

Her hair is the disheveled label of manic misadventure,
her grey coat splattered with the drool of depression
her shoes, each different and each well-worn, schizophrenic.

She shuffles from doorway to doorway smiling,
her eyes deep dark orbs that have seen discrimination in all forms,
her lips tight shut and stern, afraid to speak her mind.

She welcomes intrusion as a safety net from a crazy world,
the taste of liquor the only medication that made her happy,
her wrists and forearms scarred with the doctors promise.

Now she passes like a will o the wisp, shameless and without guilt,
her mind swimming in her dressing state, tomorrow a string bikini
in a Wellington wind bent on sending everyone to hell and back.

Tonight she will dine in the bins outside Maccas and BK,
tonight she will drink from half fill bottles,
tonight she won’t dare dream about the kids she left behind.

Copyright © 2010 Thane W. Zander

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.

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

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.