Poem: Eclipsed By Madness

Written in State Hospital South,  Blackfoot, Idaho. One of my favorites.

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Eclipsed By Madness

As the sun rises
Ascending the sky
My paranoia and
Hateful fear growing
Peaking and reaching
Its zenith on high
As the noon with its
Brightful light glowing
Glowing and growing
Its frightful seeds sowing
As it reaches its zenith on high.

And like the seed planted
Breaks forth from its shell
Pushes up and
Releases its hold
So grows my fright
Of the demons from hell
That curse me
Reviling my soul
Reviling while smiling
My soul slowly dying
For it’s cursed by the demons from hell.

And all those who love me
My family and friends
Even those who just
Know me by name
See the destruction
That’s taking its toll
How the devil is
Playing his game
He’s flaying and playing
While I’m desperately praying
As destruction is taking its toll.

So thus passes on
The best years of my life
While my spirit
So painfully dies
And when ends the torment
There’s no one who knows
Is there anyone
Hearing my cries?
Eyes tearing I’m fearing
The demons are leering
Of my torment there’s no one that knows.

I’m in institutions
In locked down psych units
For fear my madness complete
And when I’ll go home
Is unsure and unknown
Or if ever this illness I’ll beat.
I’m fighting yet trying
Ignoring their lying
That never this illness I’ll beat.

W. Spencer
7/4/09
SHS Blackfoot, Idaho

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I was diagnosed with schizophrenia in 2001, and this stay in SHS was my first–the “culmination”, if you will, of many years of being in and out of the local psychiatric hospital.

While being in any hospital can be an unpleasant occurance, this stay did produce a few good poems.

Poem: Insane Asylum

I was hospitalized in Idaho State Hospital South, in Blackfoot,  in 2009, for about three months. That resulted in a few poems,  one of which I will share with you now.

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Insane Asylum

I’m walking down the hall
in the Admissions Unit of
State Hospital South
in Blackfoot.
There’s some fucken loon
in the dayroom
Just running his mouth–
God help me.
So I came into my room
Where it’s quiet and safe
Picked up my pen and began to write.
Then I thanked the good Lord
my door is closed
cuz someone down my hallway
lets rip a good one and sighs.
O God help me.

I can’t wait to get the hell out
And go back home where
I’ll sleep on my own bed
And when I wake up
I can make a pot of coffee,
Smoke a ciggy if I want,
Turn on the computer and
Check my email if I want.
I can shower
In the privacy of my own bathroom
And walk into my bedroom
Naked if I want.
I can eat breakfast
When I want
And eat
What I want
On my own plates and my
Own silverware
With real butter and white toast
if I want–
And I’m really looking forward to the
Pot of real coffee.

I can drive my car
Wherever I want to go
And all my picture frames
Will have glass in them.

No nurses station
No cafeteria
No long hallways.
No strange crazy people farting
No watchful nurses who are checking on me
Every half hour.
No treatment plan
No goal group —
No, nothing like that.

I’ve been institutionalized so long
I almost forgot what freedom is like.
But now I remember and I
Can’t wait to go home.

W. Spencer
July 2009
SHS Blackfoot,  Idaho

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I’m in the mood for posting so I’ll post another one written in the same time period.  It’s very different than this one.

Thank you for reading.

Poem: Closer

One of my favorites!

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Closer

Someday you will know it is you that I own
My plaything to do as I wish
And wherever you go you are never alone
I’m as close as the pulse on your wrist

Come closer… Breathe
Come closer… To me
Come close now your lips I will kiss

All through your waking I find you breathtaking
This canvas I fill with your grooves
Don’t you know who you are, you’re my own private star
I memorize all of your moves

Come closer… To me
You’re closer… I see
Your body I’ll put to good use

At night when you’re sleeping it’s then that I’m creeping
Up closer, I’m longing to touch
Your face looks so placid, your limbs are all flaccid
The ache that I feel is too much

Come closer… I need
You closer… I breathe
Your scent in,  it fills me with lust

Now that I have you, surprised you and grabbed you
I’m taking you straight to my home
When we get there I will brush out your hair
It’s the last thing that you’ll ever own

We’re closer… You see?
Much closer… To me
My plaything is never alone

W. Spencer
January 27, 2012

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Absolutely delicious. Thanks for reading it. Tell me what you think. There’s a story and a background to the narrator of the poem. I’ll post it if you are interested. This is one of the poems that has a rhythmic cadence to it that is much better recited by the author. My Sexxie Exxie calls poems like these songs or lyrics, but this one technically isn’t. It’s just has good rhythm and timing if recited right.

Poem: Dirty

This was written in 2007, very shortly after I picked up the needle again after 9 years clean from meth. It’s a using poem,  obviously. I will say no more about it, letting it speak for itself.

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Dirty

Hit that shit
Yeah hit that shit
Is it gonna be a fast one
or a slow
creepy crawly one?
Hit that shit

Mix it up then
Draw it up
Hit that shit
Tie off
Slap it if you need to
Bring up that blue vein
And hit that shit
This is what you’ve waited for
Hit that shit
Then lay back and let it
Ravage your body
Hit that shit

Bevel up when you
Shoot it up
Hit that shit
Don’t want your tie
Too tight and the vein blows
But nice and easy
And hit that shit
Feel it come up to the top
Of your throat and swallow
When you hit that shit
Yeah I’m lovin it
Hit that shit

Some may think it’s dirty
But really is the cleanest way
Physiologically
To hit that shit
To get the drug into your system
So you can
Rush and rush
And rush

O yeah that feeling
That comes over you
A drug-induced orgasm
That rips through your
Veins through the
Cardiovascular system
And brain
It fucks you up so
Hit that shit one more time
Feel it in your body
With every beat of your heart
More and more
So hit that shit

I want you to
Hit that shit
This one will blow your mind if you
Hit that shit
With a quick little pinch I feel it
Hit that shit
Now I’m gonna
Hit that shit

W. Spencer
April 2007

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This poem has not been revised since writing it. I know it’s a lot to take in since I just started posting on WordPress, but I wanted to share what my poetry was about. Of course, not all my poetry is about drugs or using, and not all of it was written when I was high. Later on I will post some poetry that has nothing to do with drugs.

NaPoWriMo

Well it’s National Poetry Writing Month, and I participated yesterday,  April the 1st by writing a poem called “Bereft”. I will post it below.

Bereft

Choppy waves
Emotions boiling up like the rolling seas
Cutting through my heart as if razor sharp flint
Or a leaden weight which sinks to the depths of the abyss
Sinking the ship of my love for him
His voice cracks with pain
I am leaving another bereft once again
Third time’s a charm they say
But three was not my magical number, and we are
A couplet separated into singles.

W. Spencer
4/1/2013

I signed the papers for a divorce yesterday, to divorce my third husband.  So that’s the background for this poem.

I am excited to participate in NaPoWriMo. I hope to look at some of the poetry written by others this month posted here on WordPress. I’ve been studying the book, “Understanding Poetry” by Brooks and Warren, and let me tell you, I love love love it! After a few months of dry poet’s block, “Understanding Poetry” was exactly what I needed to whet my appetite and get my brain rolling once again. It’s inspired me to write, and a few days ago I wrote another one called, “Bringing the Dawn,” which I will post with a bit of background in a different post. I’ve also posted “Bringing the Dawn” in my portfolio at Writers.com.

I have almost 200 poems written to date, and IMO some of them are quite good, even of a bit unpolished. But more on that and on those as the month continues on.

Now if someone could help me figure out how to post links and whatnot! Perhaps the assistance of my technology-savvy daughter would be helpful. Then readers could see the book I am working from, and link to Writers.com. Inshallah, God-willing, in the future!