Aaaargh!,
abuse,
Alone,
Art,
Assault,
Assisted suicide,
Attack,
Bioman,
Black,
Continua,
Disarmament,
Disorder,
Fashion,
Fat,
Fate,
Fear,
Fiction-not,
Flash,
Foul play,
Free Verse,
Free whatever,
HATE CRIMES,
HIllview,
HMP,
Journalism,
Killer,
Life,
Life and Swedish Television,
Mental,
Mental Health,
Mental Illness,
Non-fiction,
Non-fiction,
Nothing,
Picasso,
Poem,
Poet,
Poetree,
Poetry,
Poetry Violence,
POlice Tactics,
Pooet,
Pooetree,
Pretty vacant,
Prose,
Psychiatry,
Rage,
Read,
Really useful things,
Resistance,
Revenge,
Schizophrenia,
Second Opinion,
selfsame stream of conscience,
Semi-stream of consciousness,
Sin,
Stream of Conscience,
Stream of Consciousness,
Supreme Stream of Conscience,
Time to tell,
Trauma,
Uncategorized,
VIOLENCE,
Welfare
And they call them antipsychotics
Olanzipine makes you obese
Aripirazole makes you lactate
Clozapine makes you faint
But I’m not worried about the seniority of the doctors in charge
Who are too young to understand the sensitivity of the psyche
And its warrants to allow those with undue pressures to perform
To allow them to feel secure in the findings of medicine
They don’t understand the use of prescription medicine to help their cause
To understand feelings misjudging them as faithless beings
Inscribed with the factual and not informative.
I feel they are killing us successfully as they use their means to open doors they should leave shut and to close them is impossible once they begin their terror.
Picu is psychiatric intensive care which they do not do. They don’t care and leave you caged with your medicine until you adapt to their way of thinking.
It is sure to be the end of all thinking when they absolve themselves of all jurice prudence and allow the writing to say it all.
When it all began
I could see the difference between the in and the out
I could tell that it would be different in the morning
I could see that it was all a fairytale
But now I couldn’t and didn’t and so
It is now a fill and a fall before
I die. Of slumber I cannot share
This end. But I can slow down
The rush of fate then I can open the door
To a new begin without there being anyone there
To see.
Copyright B E Saunders 2016
TOO LONELY TO MAKE SENSE - AGELESS POETRY - DADA 