a quiet roar
internal earthquake
shaking hands
spinning minds
hollow ache
aimless energy
exhaustion
the storm front
for surfboard or shelter?
body?s voice-?lay low?
but unwilling
desiring
distance
what between?
sprinting the shadow
an inner duality
paradox of self
have or not
don?t and do
being, but without
it bubbles up
I scream
Written by Jeremy
Written by mi-1996
My mind is racing
I'm dancing around
Into the sunlight hours
There is no slowing down
I've called my doctor
at least 4 times
He's changed my medication
He's fooling with my design
Try this and try that he says on the phone
I take these pills but not one
settles me down
My husband says to me "you know you need to be slown"
I'm spinning around like a ballerina
on stage, rapidly changing, irritiated and erratic
I haven't been to sleep in days and days and days
And I cannot seem to get out of this maze
My silhouette is dancing as fast as she can
She keeps up with my frolicking into the twilight
Swirling about in acrimonious fright
I yell and scream in fits of frenzy
Dancing again with endless calamity
Juliet Wilkerson
flying high for a week
euphoria
intoxicating and addictive
owch
this time i "slammed into a mountain"
"hang gliding"flying...so UP
"crashed into a stone mountain."
"bruised, aching, swollen"
thought i'd have to claw my way back up
i fell so low, so quickly!
thank god my support system heard my cries
they picked me up and carried me.
now i struggle back up,
not alone
but on my own.
mania, the thing i hate to love.
written by mi 1996
There are times when no one
remembers
that we exist;
when life shrinks
and is too small for us
when it is hard to arouse
the blood in our veins every morning,
Days of talking
with our skeleton, folding inward,
and weeping in the dark
over these sad bones,
of wearing our own skin
for a shroud, and telling
life there's nobody home:
come back some other day.
Roque Vallejos
translated by John Upton
When she laughs-
She paints yellow-
Her innocent looks-
Brings out her mothers pastels.
Her pale purple
Soothes troubled souls
And once in awhile helps one become a rainbow.
When she acts younger than her age
She paints a wild orange
Which for her takes a lot of courage.
Her deep black
Brings out her loved ones white
So she'll have strengh to fight.
Somehow this young artist
Forms human sunsets.
Written by Whitney Lyons
she needs to buy a canvas
to feel the brushes in her hand
delight to the colors
feel the texture
in manic fascination
the vivid images
dancing in her head
writhe and struggle
to be born into her art
in the darkness
when others sleep
i've taken your pills
yet lay awake
her needs
obsess me
as i lay awake
and imagine her colors
By Suzan