Wednesday, August 11, 2010


i'm not like you,
or maybe i am.
i'm a different kind.
manic depressive.
they're just labels.
shrinks like to put bar codes...
on my forehead.
they gave me:
the said:
you're bi-polar.
but i'm really joyful,
and screw the rest.
i live with a lot of heart.
when i don't despair...
or feel the hopelessness.
doctors and other fine healers,
are just people like you and me.
they are not deities.
now, for the moment,
i'm a happy-go-lucky guy.
i'm a creative, human being.
i am not crazy.
i am not suicidal.
i am just strange.
i am grandiose.
i guess i feel too much.
"yeah, i hear you doc."
he says:
"take four lithium a day,
so you don't experience the highs-and-lows."
i'll be a good zombie, i promise.
10-4, good buddy.
how can i not feel the extremes?
i had an alcoholic family.
suicides of siblings and good friends.
cruel and unusual punishments to endure...
on the job,
in school,
at the work place,
in social situations,
in the bars,
on the street.
the shrinks told me:
"it's a disease you have."
yeah, i'm not at ease,
with my disease.
or diseases.
i don't need 16 years of medical school.
i can figure out what's wrong with me.
i got well, when i gave up a slow suicide.
i threw all the alcohol, drugs, and meds,
down the toilet.
i started painting and writing to say:
"i'm still here, you bastards!"
Then, after a number of years of sobriety,
i forgave them all.
i felt the weight of the world,
lifted from my shoulders.
i found myself,
and was able to accept the real me.
then i went to work.
a work of becoming.
a person i could live with.
until the end.

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