Angels
Angels come to mind when I’m alone,
When something seems to have gone wrong in my life,
The words fold like a chair, and I whisper to God.
There’s something in the wind that gives me hope,
Perhaps it’s their wings that open and close,
Giving me comfort as I sleep.
Poet’s Life
I have to write,
Or I will die
A empty death,
A soulless death.
But when the words,
Come alive on the screen,
Rising from a deep sleep,
I’m rescued from a wasted life.
Continue reading
What can you say about a woman who was created to take the world by storm, but who was faced with family difficulties from her youth that plagued her through her teenage and adult years. Still, giving up on herself, her family, and her life never became an option for her.
Though affected by mental illness as a youth and into her young adulthood, Linda learned to advocate for herself in ways that not only made her feel like a whole human being, but also led to her becoming an overcomer and a strong advocate for others with mental illness. Through bouts with psychosis, the loss of love interests and close family members, including her own mother, she made sound decisions to keep herself surrounded with people who could help her fashion her mind into a healthy state in times of crisis.
For Linda, being dually diagnosed with more than one mental illness was in short a heavy blow. However, she relied on professional therapists and psychiatrists and medication to guide and heal her on her way to recovery. Recovery became possible for Linda and she found love and married someone who also lives with a mental illness. Her supportive marriage helped give her the strength to face death in her family, shame and loneliness. Linda used her intelligence and determination and what she had learned from certain life experiences to help her to overcome many of the mental illnesses that had plagued her thoughts for far too long. Due to Linda’s breakthrough with her mental illness, she is now able to give back to the world and to many others who are also suffering. She shows us in her memoir that mental illness is not a death sentence nor is a diagnosis a reason to crawl up in a hole and rot and die. Linda shows us that there are resources for those in that situation, as entire professions specialize in helping people with mental illness.
To every problem in life there is always a great resolution.
In this small read about two people battling two different mental illnesses, we can see that it’s not a death sentence and nothing to be ashamed of but it is a most common thing that occurs in many humans: men, women, boys and girls. I think that anyone who is suffering from a sick mind, unwanted feelings or thoughts but who is able to recognize these abnormal feelings and thoughts is already on the road to recovery.
Mental illness is something that many people are ashamed of. For many people mental illness can be apart of their genetic makeup, or developed during traumatic life events and occurrences, or through one’s environment and life experiences. This book shows us how two brave individuals had the courage to seek help after struggling with mood swings and sadness for long periods of time. After proper medical treatment these two characters in the book, Peter and Lisa, were able to live healthy and normal lives.
Through self-awareness and education, the battles that many humans face with mental illness can be won. People can go on to live healthy lifestyles with the support of medicine, family and supportive friends. People with mental illness or who have suffered from them in the past can go on to live productive and healthy lives.
Drawing from Tony Glamortramp LeTigre
OF BELIEF and what we have made of IT
I mounted the rostrum in Geneva, Switzerland, to address the League of Nations and to appeal for relief from the destruction which had been unleashed against my defenceless nation, by the fascist invader. I spoke then both to and for the conscience of the world. My words went unheeded, but history testifies to the accuracy of the waning that I gave in 1936. Today, I stand before the world organization which has succeeded to the mantle discarded by its discredited predecessor. In this body is enshrined the principle of collective security which I unsuccessfully invoked at Geneva. Here, in this Assembly, reposes the best-perhaps the last- hope for the peace of mankind. Ras Tafari (Haile Selassie)
If to be “imprisoned” were solely the concerns of social and judicial institutes, as some sort of inimitable consequence of justice and its process, then one should think the world would be better off. But the world as a giant essence finds ways to imprison itself beyond the familiar confines of fetters, chains and regimented penitentiaries. Possibly because its bounds is of a kind different from that which has been mentioned. Be it through eccentric ethos, ideological oddities, religious extremism or misguided popular sensibilities, we as thinking beings, defined by decades of urbane scholarship, constantly imprison ourselves—by constantly deceiving ourselves (and one another) with misguided faiths in bodies of deceits, falsehood and falsities. We seal our fate as a race of peoples, and as individuals, with that which is the enemy: the enemy which is the world; the world which regrettably is us.
History has revealed man and faith/belief as two constancies (one an entity, the other a concept) in steady relationship with each other, as both cannot in extant independently be. Sadly this is the founding basis for two prospects: of which one is the indispensible actuality of belief. And the other, the configuration of such belief and how it (the mechanics of it) aligns with our varying degrees of Innatism (if we are to momentarily suggests the tenets of Subjective Impressions are non-existent), presenting itself nonetheless as a sine qua non for successful epistemological, ontological, material and metaphysical pursuits. This faith could present itself as of a diversified reality to man: faith in intellectual and physical exertions, faith in some higher understanding, faith in a ‘seemingly crude definition’ of true purpose, faith in material determinism, faith in a thought system or faith in a noumenon. Regardless of which ever reality this amorphous totem chooses to commend itself to us, it is widely accepted that the set of man’s actions are to an extent ordered by how he chooses to work this unsubstantial, and as certain non-believers would tag ‘unsubstantiated aspect of human reality’ (bearing in mind the common noun ‘non-believer’ is of a nomenclature encompassing in the light of the material and metaphysical). Continue reading
Paris: Les attaques, et après
Le 13 novembre
La ville des lumières
cette nuit etait
une ville de douleur.
Sois calme, mon coeur.
Le sang de Paris
ne se fait pas
de pleurs.
Le 14 novembre
La Ville Lumière
cette nuit devenait
une ville de noirceur,
à l’aube,
une ville de desolation et douleur.
Sois calme, mon coeur.
Le sang de Paris
ne se fait pas de pleurs.
Le 15 novembre
La nuit tombait
sur la Ville Lumière,
le soleil levait
sur une ville de noirceur.
Sois brave, mon esprit. Sois calme, mon coeur.
Sous le drapeau de la desolation,
sous le rage de la douleur,
sous l’orage des oiseaux
dans le ciel de ce jour,
l’esprit monte au ciel
d’esperance and d’amour,
et le courage dit au terreur:
La France va te ruiner,
elle va te détruire, elle va t’ecraser,
elle va te laisser sur la terre désolée.
Le sang de Paris ne se fait pas de pleurs.
(English translation follows)
My body washed ashore in the Moon’s light,
My flesh dripping with blood from floating in the sea of human misery,
My human vessel now is torn from stem to stern.
In this the midnight of my life,
I search for my mother,
Searching for a connection before the sun raises and my flesh begins to burn.
Lying on the breach alone attempting to cast away all my fears,
I seek to be united with my mother.
Crying into the sand as my tears mixes with the ocean waves.
I do not pity myself,
I will not reach out for forgiveness,
I will cry for my lost soul.
Remorse set within me for I shall not find her,
I have little faith now that I shall ever met her before my death,
And now as the sun raise the pain is to great to continue to live.
In this moon’s light,
I fade into the sand,
My body washes out with the morning tide having never seen my mother.