Posts tagged ‘mental illness’

September 19, 2018

A post

by jhon baker

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August 4, 2015

enter title here

by jhon baker

morning when the slow malaise creeps in. morning when the pain rings true. morning when the noise turns on. morning when the bitter pill is swallowed. morning when the alarms sound that it is the first Tuesday. morning when air brakes are checked and wind is blown. morning when garbage men/women make their rounds collecting our debris and the cast-offs of a rich life. morning when I pretend to understand you. morning when I don’t understand anything. morning when bombs are dropped, lives are lost and America’s most wanted are captured. The warrant always arrives in the morning. morning when the phone rings and I have to take action. morning when the birds get their breakfast and I eat cheerios with blueberries. stab it in the arm with a number two pencil.

the expression changes.

I’m acclimating to this change of lifestyle rather well and have not gone out to brazenly alter my blood sugars/insulin balance/imbalance.

the interviewer brings up black socks and polish-able shoes twice and I tell him that my socks don’t match. I’ve also already told him that I want his job and that I didn’t think it would be that difficult to obtain. but still the interview goes well and I plan on turning down the position if and when it is offered.

I drink coffee with abandon and no care for the lining of my stomach. the phone rings twice in the morning and I wonder where I’ve gone wrong.

 

July 28, 2015

So Here I Am

by jhon baker

I am a man of chronic conditions

and if you bless me I’ll say thanks

but that’s all

 

no one renders the image well

and while the coffee is hot

the outside is almost hotter

 

and I eat a pinkish apple

drink bottled water

and stare at your walls

 

sugarless scenarios

contemplating my next tattoo

I am a spiritual guide

 

wearing a gun and a leatherman

ready for anything

I’m ready for you

 

– Hoc Scripsi

July 16, 2015

this morning came around seven and then again around eight-fifteen.

by jhon baker

I woke this morning to medications and everything being left of center by about six inches. As the day progressed it shifted to about eight inches right of center never actually being center. This is the way of it lately – yesterday spent most of the day right of center except my sons room which was three inches left. The day before that was mostly malaise covered and fuzzy. I contemplate that my medications are no longer correct for my diagnosis but wonder if maybe my diagnosis is more severe then we previously thought. Then again the world may actually be left or right as I awake and descend throughout the day but today it ends with my motorcycle no longer being mine and no longer in the garage. now in there are a mass of broken things and unfinished projects that I may or may not be smart enough to complete without assistance.

I don’t write here often because like this post clearly defines – I have very little to say that isn’t about lonely carpet tufts and apples growing on certain trees far away from here. I could write about my squeezing ceiling fan, blue curtains covering the slider in my room but that seems passe right now. And I am drinking coffee from my unbroken other favorite Vincent coffee mug. Sunflowers. Wheat field with crows was my favorite but now it is broken.

I’ve learned that some pain medications can deepen psychosis and as a result I’ve been taken off of them and am left with only two meds to control my pain and those don’t seem to be working as well lately. I’m sleeping a lot during the day to try and control pain. it works to a certain extent and offers me usual nightmares and vivid nighttimedreaming – I am ill from the side affects of something and find my appetite reduces to normalish levels but still sickened in the stomach with no abatement.

every time I turn around there is no-one there – only carpet tufts in some joyful crushed harmony.

January 2, 2014

January Second

by jhon baker

I miss being a regular smoker but the cost is simply too high – in dollars and lungs.

I didn’t post yesterday – the first first I’ve missed in a few years.

I had nothing to add to last years first – reference that if you like.

In trying to put together a coherent collection of poems for a possible book I’ve found it harder than anticipated.

In polishing the language of a non-native speaker in book form I’ve found that harder than anticipated as well.

I should be busy but I am not.

Playing trumpet takes little time per day but a lot of energy.

Constant and chronic pain takes the most energy.

as does fighting the mental crash I see coming.

The coffee is cooling too quickly and I find myself refilling more often for heat.

I have flowers dying on the kitchen table – in yellow hues turning brown – in whites turning yellow.

 

 

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