Thursday, June 23, 2011

Poems I want to share

Although I deal with it constantly I have only focused on my bipolar once in my blog. I know I've mentioned it here and there. But devoting a post specifically to it isn't the same. Here lately it seems it's all I can think about whether I like it or not.

Rather than write like my traditional posts I wanted to share with you some of my pasts poems. Some that are fitting with how I feel today.

I Need To Say Goodbye

I need to say goodbye. I have to go now.
I'm sure I will be back someday.
If you see myself somewhere tell me I miss me.
And if it's not too late tell me that I can stay.
Please ask me why I always have to go away.
I know my goodbye was so short and I am sorry.
The lights were just too bright for these two eyes.
I need to draw back and retreat into the darkness
of a world I know.
A world of pains disguise where I hide myself,
it suffocates my cries.
I hate this pounding; it's so loud I cannot hear me.
Why do demons wish to kill me inside?
My mind cannot suffer through this life of pain much longer.
If I cannot breath again then I rather die.
With every beat I clench my fists and scream out, "Why?"
The pain has grown now to engulf my numbing body.
The blood throbbing to burst out of my skull,
pressing my face against the floor.
I try to free me.
from this blinding, spinning, stabbing, pounding hell.
Pain has bound me to its everlasting cell.
I feel possessed by pains pressure on my soul, grasping, reaching for the unaffected me.
Screaming aloud the blood escapes my weighing eyelids.
I know I lost the battle towards becoming free.
At least I had the chance to say goodbye to me.

Am I Real

I never meant to come on so strong.
I never meant that you were wrong.
Just sometimes it's so hard to speak.
Straight from the heart, I feel so weak.

My words don't flow as others will.
I hide behind this wall so real.
I speak at times without my mind.
Take risks of losing the truly kind.

I fear what most come to see.
They're braver than I'll ever be.
Trust is but a heavy load.
For me a long and scary road.

Should I reveal my heart to thee?
Remain a stranger, a mystery?
Reach out to you with a soulful desire?
Give you a certain power?

For should I be who you so choose
And must accept who's in these shoes.
Your key to love is not in me...
But within our hearts as an entity.

Now I must ask
Once you've touched my heart
Will you close the door?
Tear me apart?

All these leave me afraid
For many times my heart has paid
Not to seem a bitter cold
For with my "dream" will I grow old.

I need one who can sense the "whole"
Go beyond the surface of my soul.
To know that life's not what we see
Yet more, what it can truly be.

For am I real you ask of me?
Though I am a dreamer
With a need to be free.

Not free from commitment
Nor bonds of devotion...
Though free to show
My true emotion.

I Want to Cry

I want to cry because
My highs aren't happiness
My lows aren't true sorrow
My feelings are not real
I want to cry because
I have a label
Bipolar, Mental, Psycho
No longer a person
I want to cry because
My racing thoughts
My irrational fears
Were manias, not nightmares?
I want to cry because
I don't want to live like this
I don't want to fight like this
I don't want to be different
I want to cry
But can't
Because I don't have real tears


I feel the darkness coming
Like a breeze against my skin
It's going to take me over
I know I cannot win

I try to rationalize this somehow
As I am balled up in my bed
The covers comfort me
They hide me from my brains sin

As my mind is screaming
The shadows they appear
I am swallowed once again into blackness
Paralyzed with fear

I feel so very numb inside
Sadness has its grip
I am so very weary
Of these shadows in my head


How deep in my being it bleeds
But the mask I try to wear
To shun off any needs
Is not good enough

I breathe and cry
And cry and breathe
Each breathe I take
Is another cry to be

To be someone
Who would that be?
To laugh and smile
Would that be the death of me?

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Where my inspiration comes from

A Recycled-Dad with Bipolar & Parkinson's, reflections on fathering and family life and other stuff thrown in'll love my Soap Box Rants

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Why I call myself a Recycled Dad

I call myself a Recycled Dad because of the struggles with remarriage and being a step-parent and weekend dad. This is also about my life living with bipolar and how it affects me personally, my family and my job. It also reflects on the grace God has poured out on me throughout recovery from alcohol and an eating disorder. Recycled Dad is about my reflections on the wisdom God teaches daily on fatherhood and being a better husband in spite of being bipolar.

Please feel free to leave comments. I welcome them