Tag Archives: poetry

The Poetry of the Bauls (Thanks Leroy)

The Poetry of the Bauls.

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Filed under Mystic Poetry, poetry, Re-blogged

Friday Soup Dump

Check out recent Amuseless.

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___

SAMHSA sez:

43.7 Million Americans Experienced Mental Illness in 2012

$31 Million Announced To Improve Mental Health Services for Young People

Nearly one in five American adults, or 43.7 million people, experienced a diagnosable mental illness in 2012 according to SAMHSA. These results are consistent with 2011 findings.

[Does anyone else besides me suspect that the reason so many are diagnosed is because of marketing of psycho-pharmacological drugs?]

Top Three Reasons Adults Did Not Get Mental Health Treatment in 2012

  • They worried about affording the cost.
  • They thought they could handle the problem without treatment.
  • They did not know where to receive services.

“The President and Vice President have made clear that mental illness should no longer be treated by our society—or covered by insurance companies—differently from other illnesses,” said HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebelius. “The Affordable Care Act and new parity protections are expanding mental and substance use disorder benefits for 62 million Americans. This historic expansion will help make treatment more affordable and accessible.”

Related note (click to read whole article):

The British drug maker GlaxoSmithKline will no longer pay doctors to promote its products and will stop tying compensation of sales representatives to the number of prescriptions doctors write, its chief executive said Monday, effectively ending two common industry practices that critics have long assailed as troublesome conflicts of interest.

Caught Nuzzling Mic

Another news item:

On December 12, 2013, Congressman Tim Murphy (R-PA) introduced the “Helping Families in Mental Health Crisis Act of 2013”. While the National Federation of Families for Children’s Mental Health applauds Congressman Murphy’s inclusion of provisions that would reauthorize the Mental Health First Aid Act (S.153/H.R.274), the Garrett Lee Smith Memorial Act (S.116/H.R.2734), the Children’s Recovery from Trauma Act (S.380), the Excellence in Mental Health Act (S.264/H.R.1263), the Justice and Mental Health Collaboration Act of 2013 (MIOTCRA;S. 162/H.R.401) and the Behavioral Health IT Act (S.1517, S.1685/H.R.2057), we decry provisions that would effectively reverse the progress made in mental health treatment and support over the past 30 years.

For decades, organizations such as the National Federation of Families for Children’s Mental Health have been working to add a more balanced approach to mental health services and treatment. The National Federation advocates for the rights of children, youth and young adults who experience mental health challenges. As family members, we feel it is important that our loved ones are able to receive the support they need while remaining at home and in the community. We realize that mental illness does not affect just one person, it is something that the entire family experiences; therefore, it is crucial that initiatives are in place to support the entire family unit.

Rep. Murphy’s bill magnifies the stigma of mental illness by creating an extremely biased link between mental illness and violence. Countless studies have determined that the relationship between mental illness and violence is minimal and that individuals experiencing mental health challenges are 11 times more likely to be the victims of violence than the general public.

The National Federation rejects the expanded use of involuntary outpatient commitment (IOC) and urges Congress to champion practices proven to be effective in facilitating a holistic approach to treatments and supports for children and youth who are experiencing mental health challenges and their families.

Finally, the National Federation strongly opposes legislation that threatens to essentially dismantle key efforts and programs of the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) which functions as the lead public health agency dedicated to mental health and addiction treatment, services, and supports. Transferring authority away from SAMHSA and decimating significant activities within the Department of Health and Human Services are not in the best interest of our most vulnerable citizens who are striving to be participating members of their communities.

The details in this bill reflect the continued, urgent need for a national conversation with individuals who experience mental illness, their families, and their communities to facilitate the creation of systems and networks that support maximal health, safety, and welfare for all community members. We urge Congressional leaders to take this opportunity to create legislation on behalf of their constituents that solidifies a bond among all stakeholders that highlights the dignity, respect, and self-determination of all individuals.

The National Federation of Families for Children’s Mental Health issued this statement in response to the bill.

Cat Bowling

More old Cuckoo’s Nest poetry by JN:

01-30-2009AD

5:20pm

Spoken Cold-Mountain

 [I had given him a copy of Cold Mountain Poems and this was his reply]

Breeze is cold, wet and fresh

Unknown writer I read his writing

Chilled the soul to touch his spirit

Vast as the array of description

Oneness not disconnected was He

Truth in the sporadic words- adrift the snow

Cliffs for bed softened his head

Reading the stone carved wit

Closer to the mountain I get

As I thought those rolling weeds in the wind

Climate is cold to touch, but normal for the universe

Who is wittier?

Mother Nature or the man who wrote?

Void isn’t the mountain with minerals galore

Treasures of the mind I must find

Breaking illusions is for me

This is my trail to this mountain

Entering meditation is salvation

A bird and animal not to sight!

Vast self to roam

Free indeed is the writer in me

Wrote a letter to karma

Issued a food through the threshold

Moonlight glistening snow winds I see

Cold-Mountain: we’re all alone, so it spoke these words

You are home sparkled the stream of life

Years ago I would not have stayed

Fleshy thing in the way

Ghosts are the host that talks wisdom to thee

By JN

Kitten Laundry Hamper

Cat Walks on Hind Legs

Turn Off Your Kitten

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Standing guy

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OWdM

OWdM Money Clip OWdM Wine Stopper OWdM Money Clip
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On the Web

On the Web Large Square Pet Tag On the Web Duffel Bag On the Web Square Compact Mirror
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Happy

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PomBear

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Self_portrait

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Sleeping Dog

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Ovaltine

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Wear socks

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Flower

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Figure erasing

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Find a gem

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Eyescape

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Drewdle

Drewdle Christmas Stocking Drewdle Keychains Drewdle iPad Mini Switch Case
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Sunface

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Crazy by Voln

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bIG mONSTER

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Butch Guineas

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Mushy

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Don't be afraid

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Love Chomped

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Mandala

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Zero gravity

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Looks like fall

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Dragon Lick

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Filed under animated gif, animation, bees on cherry trees, cats, Cold Mountain, Jim, kittens, Links: Recovery, Mental health recovery, Mental Hell Treatment, Mystic Poetry, pictures, poetry, Re-blogged, Shameless Commerce

Even More From the Cuckoo’s Nest

This came in my work email:

Dear Staff:

This morning I gave the following assignment to my writing group: “What was the favorite gift you have ever either received or given for any occasion (Christmas, Birthday, Anniversary)?  Write about it and answer these questions:

What was the occasion?

Who were the players—giver and recipient?

What emotions were felt or expressed?

J.N. from Bird 3 (Salem) answered:

“Liz, my group home manager in Grants Pass, when I spent Christmas there gave pajamas to me for a present.  I laugh because I needed P.J.’s.  They were navy blue.  I could put them on before bedtime and unwind in writing on the computer.  They were light and comfortable.  I felt like a million bucks in them because it was decades [since] I had a bed, and P.J.’s to sleep in.  You see, I had spent years on the streets and I slept anywhere out of the weather.  My clothes stayed on me, but my shoes came off when I climbed into the sleeping bag.

 When my care-provider gave P.J.’s to me I acted like a child of joy.  The smell of new P.J.’s was pleasant.  Crisp, fresh P.J.’s were like I was high class.  I did thank Liz for the thoughtful gift.  She is a wonderful person and considerate.  Now, feeling human and high class I wrote better with a new mentality…..Liz [fed] us a balanced diet and shows love in working around the house. 

 Love for P.J.’s is the tender feeling while nights pass.  And I sleep…”

When our patient read this aloud to the class, my eyes filled with tears.  What a wonderful expression of thanks flowed from this patient’s pen!  There are a lot of things to be sad and disappointed about in our world today, but as you reflect on this story I urge you to consider “Who can I bless with “P.J.’s” during this Christmas/Hanukkah/Holiday season?”

Dr. **** ******, Clinical Psychologist

If you have followed this blog you are acquainted with JN and his powerful images, intensely emotional poetry. Of course, he is no longer in the 50 Building- which is now abandoned across the street. He lives in this giant new beast, shiny and deceptive. They rolled up the old hospital and brought it here into a new edifice. Here’s something else-

01-31-2009AD

7:24pm

Believe

Understood into self as the clouds drift away

Sun rises to the word of reality with shinning focus

Wind whispers it while awake in the Desert

Mountains’ tree sings it out with a hoot

Rocks roll in the snowy water stream

The birds fly with uplifting wings

Chairs hold you in faithful promise

I absorb it like food for nourishment

Rain falls to the gravities law

Air gives way to breathe of life

Monks hum to it in meditation

Spirit listens in ah while thought is created

Soul will carry it to heaven

God rewards you for understanding

Flowers wilt by it after seeding

A Babies cry with it when born

Believe while doing all things and it will be

Stories are written with the thought of it

Companions make love for a child

Can’t touch it with your hands, but imagination flourishes

Wake- that sun will make it today

Why then doesn’t it happen when we speak?

Truth and lies are from this tongue of ours

By JN

anigif_enhanced-buzz-28846-1383854317-15

Shop…

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Filed under animated gif, JN-Building 50, Oregon State Hospital, poetry, Shameless Commerce, Spirituality

Picture/ Gif Dump, Poem at the end by TVD

orianima

Bird Circle

briefchase

Scared Bear

Cat Box

Cat Done Fall

Dog Catch

Too Much Socks

Caught in the Act

babyDragonDarker1600D

FWHLW

the-most-extreme-thing-you’ll-ever-see

31

bunnyfood1

illeagle

kaleidoscopicmind

headlikeanorange

fat-birds

prickly-

coolerthan

wolfpack

smartyass-graffiti-25

ibmxmUk8LFvyEo

Mfbdq

I_am_the_walrus

sheepish

santa

nic_cage_cat

juliaroberts

penflip

best_deathmetal_bandname

hi_bears

bieberface

catswanttoreportweather

notwaving

ice-cannonball

goosepress

spiderman Tiny-Hippo1 smartyass-graffiti-23

A Shade of Brown

At the end of my rope, for convenience I rely on my phone.

You disconnected your number. I’ve never felt so alone.

Tonight my mood dropped even further. I miss you friend.

The operator told me I made an error, looks like it’s really the end.

Lady we used to talk for hours, about days- gone-by.

Labor Day weekend is gonna be scorching. Your humor is so dry.

You were the only person that believed I’d see success.

Fame and Fortune escaped my grasp. Bad luck has such finesse.

Maybe I could see up together accepting an academy award.

Fall is fast approaching.    Feels like I swallowed a sword.

As the leaves fall from the trees, the gold is a Shade of Brown.

This single bed feels like forever. I can’t drag myself to town.

Anxiety explodes to depression. Is there a life lesson to learn?

We walked together in the meadow. It’s time to let it burn.

Even though the pain is fierce! Maybe it has nothing to do with me?

Without your enthusiasm I’ve been seduced by self-pity.

Don’t ever remember falling off a cliff at such an elevation.

Insecure territory is a tragic playground!!! I’m plagued by procrastination!!!

Rewind this fatal scene in slow-motion. I need to change lanes.

How can you measure misfortune? In the end I’ll take the blame.

The fast lane seems to have invited, confessions stained with tarnish.

You try to break-free, reflection mirages a

death-wish.

Everybody hears bad news.   I’d knock, but there is no door.

Scorn is the opposite of forgiveness. I never thought you’d keep score.

As I go about living life.

Love is a dangerous proposition. Common sense has its purpose. Fools live by intuition.

When a thief robs a bank, a bag of cash is his goal.

I found your consolation at the bottom of this hole.

By T.V.D.

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Filed under animated gif, animation, cats, kittens, pictures, poetry, silly, Uncategorized

An old one, by Jim, new one by me

One-Flew-Over-the-Cuckoo-s-Nest

Reprinted from years ago when he lived in a dirty old concrete box full of overcrowded rooms [now he lives in a new, clean concrete box with only one roommate!]. One of the first poems he showed me. It was in the first year of my work as the last watercooler in hell. We spent months just talking and sharing poetry every week.

This one broke my heart.

Girlfriend

written 2/21/09 6:25 p.m.

lone

We watched a butterfly be born into the world

Held hands at a scary film

Thought silly jokes were funny

Smiled with our eyes

I love you was spoken a lot

Mingled with other couples

Broke up once or twice

People talked about our relationship

She wrote when I was gone in jail

This is where we failed

My time was longer than her love

Have a picture of her I can’t tear up

It looks like she is shaking her finger at me in the picture

Wish I wouldn’t have made my mistake

Stakes were too high for me

Alone again with 40 men

This next is mine, this morning.

Welcome to-

Arrive by jail van

drive through a garage door that closes behind you

the world has turned upside down

everyone has latex gloves

“Take off your clothes and get in the shower to the right”

frightened, you look for a human face

without success

you may not see those clothes again

people are watching you through a mirrored window

instructions come from the wall mounted speaker

high above reach

“If you can’t clean yourself properly we will send someone to help you”

you don’t want to be touched by those rubber hands

you do your best to obey but it is hard-

nothing makes sense, you suppress an urge to scream out loud

they are making sure you don’t have anything

anything at all

you are truly stripped by the time they let you into the next room

“Put on these clothes. We will help you if you can’t do it by yourself”

again you comply

“What is happening to me?

What happened to your face?”

“We will help you to get better”

time, ushered along, nothing is right

[correct, true, accurate, factual, fit, satisfactory]

go to your room

.   .   .   .

Doctor: “My job is to diagnose your illness,

prescribe medications

and take you to court if you refuse them”

“I’m not here to talk to you or listen-

in fact, if you see me coming that’s bad news for you”

and, you think,  I still haven’t gotten my self back

(or my clothes and by the way

NPR never sent me the tote bag they promised during the fund drive)

.   .   .  .

oh God, if I’m crazy what does that make

You

welcome-to-hell

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Filed under Crazy is not even the word for it, Jim, Mental Hell Treatment, pictures, poetry, Uncategorized

By Jim

No longer in the 50 Building, since no one is there anymore. I wonder, can I change the categories? I’ve added the tag “spirit heart”. I should go back and find all Jim’s poems and re-tag.

In the cuckoo’s nest, songs drift down from Bird #3.

Re-printed from Journeys Newsletter, with permission by author:

A Formula for Life

The day begins, ready or not. Shower and shave as I, Spirit-Heart, gather pen and paper.

I try to write well as the twelfth year passes.

Creatures crawl, slither and Mother Earth spins like no tomorrow. Life flourishes in the warming and drying dew.

Jesus is listening to my morning prayer. He blesses me this morning with food I enjoy.

The gravity pulls me down, toward the land of meadows. I will listen to the snow-birds sing with twilight rays.

Clouds form from taking moisture back and I start singing the lyrics to “Amazing Grace”.

My personal feeling is to trim the fruit trees in the meadow. Life needs pruning to strengthen core belief, philosophy; theory if there is a will there is a way.

These moments of shaping me, trees, life to form honest behavior. I see creatures in this ecosystem on the mountain.

The trees are pruned and I head for the creek to wash and work muscles.

Aging gives me permission to have reverence. Mother Nature folds into death with a seed to unfold life again.

My soul will go to the living universe, as I am a cup of universe soul. Life gives, takes, gives in the ecosystem and I will remember that “Law”.

I retreat to the shore after my swim from working muscles gentle, and reflect the moments I cherish while in a fold, unfold style.

Chasing History Trauma

The child wailed, cried, scream with flood of tears

Jimmy, abuse and resentments buried the feelings to smoldering rage

Red, fire, anger, digested as food for the soul

Fighting this rage made him engage hostility

Settling in the void was this smoldering rage to rise by triggers

Thrashing out, acting out is all release shown

Learning Kung-Fu meditation, give the energy to an orbiting void

Souls and Spirit, chat to entities of the orbit surface and supress

Trauma of disguise comes when future triggers are alone

Jimmy sees the micro-world split from essence

A “Recovery Tree” planted as essence in the tiny orbit

Kung Fu meditation makes the tree bloom

No more pain for trauma- sane, as the tree bark absorbs negative soul, spirit

This tree in the void is essence that holds spirit & soul orbit

Now when triggered, pain hurts just a little

Roots and trunk grow to knowledge and wisdom as he begins to giggle

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Filed under JN-Building 50, Mystic Poetry, poetry

Just so you know

I kept it to myself this year. I had a sleepless night.

It snuck up on me- April 5th- I had actually managed to convince myself that it wasn’t even April, really. I saw no date on the calendar. I didn’t realize until about 5 pm on April 4th. Then it was like a bag of bricks. Or an ocean of tears.

Then, like smoke, it was over, gone. No harm no foul. It was something different than my usual coping/ denial. I really want her to move on. I’m concerned for her. She lives in my heart, no matter, but I want her to face ahead. I want this for me too.

“May all be free of suffering and the causes of suffering.”

Here she is laughing with her brothers. They are both grown men.

Here she is laughing with her brothers. They are both grown men.

Yesterday was Andrew’s birthday. I want to give him a Goopymart shirt. but I need to wait until I get my first disability check. I called, he was at work. I texted. Later he texted back, we had a conversation. I miss him- he is so far. Just down in the Bay Area, so I guess not so far. He has a Berkeley PO box. Not certain where he and Chris live right now.

Matt is close by. Just in Beaverton. I went to his house last Sunday night to watch Game of Thrones He made a casserole. It was delicious. He made enough that he can have it for several days. I bet it’s gone now though.

This is one of my favorite pictures. Holding a butterfly in our front yard.

This is one of my favorite pictures. Holding a butterfly in our front yard.

This is in the front yard of where the kids grew up. The house we had from when Matt was born until both he and Andrew were men. It is unfortunate that we lost this house- I lost this house- because after all my breakdowns, after all my years of grief beyond speaking, after all my lost jobs and the ruins of my career we went into foreclosure.

Moved into that rental on Flavel that burned down and took so much of our life with it. No, correct that- it didn’t take any life; it only took stuff. Everyone, including the pets, was safe.

This next is cropped from the huge picture taken at Falcon Crest in the summer of 1989. You can find the original big version around here somewhere.

Even this cropped version is bigger than this- click for full size.

Even this cropped version is bigger than this- click for full size.

I wrote a song. Well, I wrote lots of songs. This one was called “Erin’s Ghost”. It was written when I still had so much anger with God I almost couldn’t pray without spitting. I wonder how it works as a poem… Since I don’t have the right equipment to record it now and I’ve lost the earlier recordings. It’s actually a prayer. If you read between the lines you might hear the spitting. No more spitting for me. God has whispered into my heart, and here, near the end of my life, has opened me to love. Maybe I’ll call it-

Ashes of Your Love

All the labor of my days

All the sweetness of my nights

All the times that I have cursed or have ignored You

The times I’ve touched You

The greatest joy I have ever known

I will undertake to lay these down before You

Because life burns away

As a fire is consumed

Don’t look for me below or up above

Only one thing will remain

Of what is gone without a trace

There is nothing but the ashes of Your love

You brought to me a baby girl

She was tired, she was sore

And You gave me dreams that I could love or even heal her

But for the time that she was mine

We shared too many bitter tears

Lord there were even days I could not bear to feel her

She had more pain to bear than joy

More to teach than she could learn

God she was deeper than her vision could yet show her

Still as my heart counts the years

She is never growing old

I’m left to reflect upon the grace it was to know her

Well, they say, “God cuts the thread”

So it was in her 14th year

That You allowed that she should end

Her own becoming

I could not believe it true

When I saw her lying dead

Though I held until

The chill of her was numbing

And still life burns away

As a fire is consumed

Do not look for me below or up above

For only one thing will remain

Of what is gone without a trace

Lord there’s nothing but the ashes of Your love

It’s hard to believe that she was right

And everything has turned out wrong

There was so much more to life she’d never tasted

I just pray that it’s true

As Your saints have often said

That there is no love in this world that’s ever wasted

But life burns away

Just as a fire is consumed

You will not find me down below or up above

Only one thing will remain

Of that which is gone without a trace

There’s nothing but the ashes of Your love

1992

1992

I love you, my first baby, my only daughter, my life’s greatest teacher, the one I once thought would never abandon me. You are with the loving Friend, move to even greater light, find your heart’s desire. And in all the worlds, the infinite worlds beyond counting, in which you still live, show your fire. Shine so brightly no one can keep from seeing your wild, beautiful fire.

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Filed under Family pictures, personal story, pictures, poetry

Some pictures, a story, some good other things to read

Pictures from my kids phone-photo blog (always click for full size- I do not skimp on size):

stop

 

criminal

sidewalk_arthelp

 

feets

 

Pictures from the site that shall not be named:

[gt] Daisy

 

THE INTERNET

These are animated- if they don’t work automatically, click them to nudge them along:

Q056

fuck_it

 

[ani] nice catch

How I spent last weekend or….

The waiting room at Urgent Care
I was actually on my way to Best Buy to ask why the headset didn’t work, got there, noticed that my left foot was numb.
I knew my ankle was sprained, at least, and nobody seemed to think it to be a big deal. Especially given the bigger deal of the rip-roaring pain throughout my left leg that was caused by the ruptured disk that was squishing the nerve- But the ankle did look kind of dramatic. Although swelling had gone down over the past week (it was a week ago Saturday that I slipped on it), the bruising was spectacular. I personally have never seen anything like it. It has been blue-black from my ankle to the bottoms of my feet including my toes. So, given that the bruising was still awesome and the numbness was new, I thought it would be prudent to go to Urgent Care at Kaiser (in the Sunnyside complex).
The Urgent Care nurse who checked me in asked to see it, I showed it to her (sounds like a porn intro). She immediately had me go get X-rays and blood-work and I was shuffled through those places and put in the Urgent Care waiting room.
It would seem that the short phrases “waiting room” and “Urgent Care” were paired together for maximum contrast in the use and mis-use of the English language. You could probably do a whole – never mind, I digress…
I noticed that the group around me stayed pretty consistent. New people arrived here and there. A couple times someone’s name was called and they were taken back to what I decided was the “Exam Area” (I made up that phrase- I am easily entertained). I never saw anyone come back out of this Exam Area. After being in the waiting area for about 45 minutes a nice young lady came out of the hidden areas where people were sometimes taken (the ones who were never seen again, as far as I know) and she announced that there was currently about a 2 hour wait for getting in to see a doctor at “Urgent Care”.
She apologized, smiled and went back behind the closed doors.
I began to speculate about the true nature of this hidden dimension I had so innocently and glibly labeled as the Exam Area- maybe it was actually a place where the “disappeared” were being dissected and barbecued! (Had I eaten anything yet today? Were my thoughts being perverted by hunger?) I remember thinking there was some grease on the scrub-top worn by the announcer lady.
I closed my eyes to try and explore the smells around me- was there a faint odor of BBQ?
I was shaken from this macabre vision by something that at first seemed almost as unsettling. Sitting across from me and seeming to notice me only as I noticed him was Jess from the hospital- our volunteer coordinator. I hadn’t seen him arrive, it was as though he had materialized from thin air. He said that he had a cactus thorn embedded in his finger. There was no mark that I could see but he explained that it was buried deeply in the flesh of the finger, had no egress from it’s lodging and was causing him pain and distress. I have no reason to disbelieve him except that his story was so outlandish. What is he doing handling cacti?
Time passed. I kept myself entertained with a variety of “Twilight Zone”esque stories that could take place in the Urgent Care waiting room.
I eventually got to see the doctor. He very quickly ascertained that I would need to go back to X-ray because when I had come in they had not taken pictures of my ankle. They did have good shots of my toes but he was uninterested in those.
Hours later I was sent away with a big apparatus they referred to as a “boot”. The numbness was caused by the inflammation and blood from a slightly torn ligament and something else that he tried to draw a picture of. The nurse told him his drawing was poor and unrecognizable.
the end

Other more better stuff:

Death by Analysis (chapter 1)

‘Freedom is an Adventure Without End’ – Don Juan

 

“I am Chinese!”

Sound:

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Filed under animated gif, animation, comedy relief, mp3, Mystic Poetry, Nature, personal story, pictures, Re-blogged, sound bite

In The Mystery

In The Mystery.

Just another great post/ poem from Leroy W.

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Filed under poetry, Re-blogged

Walking the White Cliffs with Jose – 29th January 2013

Walking the White Cliffs with Jose – 29th January 2013.

From Riding Effortlessly, another great post from leroywatson.

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Filed under Nature, poetry