Bipolar Poetry

I am mid-bipolar episode again, and it's bad.  I no longer give details on my blog; those have become more personal as I've grown older.  I will say, however, that this episode is worse than I've had in years; we all thought it wasn't possible for me to episode like this anymore.  Why am I telling you all this? Because I write my best poetry when I am mid-episode, and I'd like to share some recent poems with you.  I will skip one line between title and poem, and three lines from the end of one poem to the title of the next.



The Madness

Caught up  in the madness again.

That's what they call "episode,"
That swirling place
Of Nowhere's-Home.

Caught up in the madness again.
Teetering,
Tottering,
Hither and yon.

Caught up in the madness again.

Short of breath.
Pounding heart.
Racing thoughts,
Tumbled words.

Caught up in the madness again.



Optimal Writing Conditions

I write best when I'm manic.
It may be ironic, but
I write best when I'm manic.

Swirling shores
Of grainy sand:
Each grain separate,
Countable.

Ocean waves come crashing,
And splish!
Splash!
Drag me away.

Do you see it now?
Can you understand?

The ocean waves drag me away.
I write best when I'm manic.



My Constant

He keeps me going.
Oh "Jacob," do you know?
You keep me going.

When I have nothing left,
I cry on your behalf.
When darkness tornadoes me up,
I shout on your behalf.
And when it sets me down,
I scream on your behalf.

You are my constant.
You--
And all the others
Who need prayer.

If I can shout for you,
Then I'm OK.



And in honor of the last poem, ending this post with "Jacob's" pictures: