And On A More Ladylike Note...

As I've mentioned previously, the creative work submitted to my "Turbulent Stories" blog will now be published here.

Click on the "CREATIVE" tab above and prepare to feast your eyes on some of the most disturbing, eloquent and raw writing I've ever seen.

Insanity feeds on our reason, not our creativity... These stories, poems and memoirs remind us of that.

DIS ORDER (submitted By Terry)

This haunting poem was submitted by Terry M... He is as talented as he is compelling; I find myself completely drawn in by EVERYTHING he writes. Luckily, he's dumb enough to submit them for posting to ME!!! Thanks for your stupidity Terry - My blog is a better place because of your work!

DISORDER

sin and bones
thin and stones

transparency of a daughter

tracing paper skeletal

jaundiced teeth

falling out dying gums

i wish i were your impaled stomach

i wish i were the food you won’t

i wish i were your meticulous slices of carrot

             and celery and lettuce and evaporated milk

i wish i were your perennial water  bottle comfort

 i will be your ritual, i will lose your battle

 i will be the food at your funeral

 i will be your coffin

 i will be there

And On A Lighter Note, New Blog Content

I have decided to move the content from http://turbulentstories.blogspot.com to it's own page on this blog.

The traffic on the "Turbulent" blog is about as busy as the traffic in West Cowpoke, Arkansas, population 136.

So keep your eyes peeled for all the additional content that will be appearing here. You really don't want to miss the wonderful submissions from others who are battling bipolar disorder. They tell their stories & illustrate their struggles through short stories, truth based fiction, short memoirs and poetry... their talents are indescribable. Stay tuned and see for yourself.

Afternoon Ever After (Submitted by Terry)

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AFTERNOON ever AFTER

the afternoon awoke sometime, hours ago
i sleep like vampire at dawn
god can’t be this accurate, but why assume caring now

my barnacled eyes – robin breast red – pry open
towering difficulty, bitterness crawls between my teeth and gums
revolted by my hope that this vulgarity would implode

i know better than breath hope

i grumble out of our comfortable bed detailed shapes on each side
now granite cut, sharp sleep after whiskey pills 3 times dosage fuck this and fuck that
stumble through dying life emptiness
reeking clothes beer cans, bottles yawning computer

find the bathroom – comfort porcelain
the mirror swarms fly-by memories grease fire images
three weeks ago
can’t escape can’t fathom
turn off the light

fall against bathtub gather foetal
place pure darkness where nothing matters
forgetting is no false effort dank room my baby blanket now

hard door knocking again?
calling my name detectives professionally
tread carefully killer found their pride and relief

laugh, i laugh i wretch why do i care?

testify pronounce a man guilty
justice for your wife, you

their voices white noise my self-protective deafness
i don’t care about justice don’t want it know it
not judges people or magic not prisons death needles not god
no blame no guilt for me just a hole
pierced in my soul blackened dead at the edges

let him go shoot someone else
let someone else’s family condemn him

just let him go

Original Poem (Submitted by Terry)

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a divinity here will not be denied

a moral in life and in demise

a moment of celebration

distrusted ambiguity

finality without glamour

welcomed like cold steel

stiff by knowing

no choice, no judge


in
sum
may
may
may
summation
in
sum
mer
mer
mer’s

last fires

in

con

cede

cede

cede

conceding everything

in


dy

ing

ing

ing

declaration

in


mor

tal

tal

tal

coil

in


mus

ic

ic

ic

ic icarus


wings

melting

plummeting

Let's Dine Out (Submitted by Terry)

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Let’s Dine Out

some old bitch toothless for years moving parched
blood cracked lips smack, smack
in,out
metastasized tiara queen snake tongue yellowed by sidewalk
ground cigarettes slap,slap out, in
under her delicate thoughts strewn in rusted grocery cart
with cans and paper and magazines

all rotting

like her that bitch whose name is lost
in her own history in collections untouched
she leads now

i follow like i’m a fool and i don’t know and i can’t notice

she knows what i need she leads to
garbage bins behind pish- posh eateries
she calls me bastard and rapist describes my cock
as a raisin

together we feed the leftovers that were left over but
never salivated on by rich lips or wanted at home by fat wallets
she with gums mushing me, the bastard, chewing civilized in reeking clothes
eating cake, she looks at me like a bleeding lamb

eyes suddenly rainbows hard sun through rain clouds
lucidly she says we should both be dead


yeah

Satellite (Submitted by Terry)

..

..

..

SATELLITE

i hate him

for one precise moment

as i watch my friends

animal attack, relentless


my hatred

orbits me

elliptical trajectory

seduces me

licks me slowly

toe to erection

to nape to lips

seers my senses

burnt raw


with exquisite precision

hatred floods my empty margins

so pure

like addiction


he’s punched to the ground

kicks vicious

blood and rain tangle

he says nothing

grasping for

air or saving

both causalities


i kick him

back of the head

hard it feels

but only glances

focus on leg now

thinking damage would be less


the others, i don’t recognize

frothing, feral

still kicking kicking

blood seeps thick

like plasticene from his nose and mouth


nothing in my ear but thrash, wallop

gurgling, wheezing after each

hard target strike

the inertia of aimless hate


slave to primordial childhood

i become alligator

i become dinosaur

foot targets the small of the back

AGAIN!!

AGAIN!!

AGAIN!!

until his back cracks

goes paranthetical


my hatred evaporates, breathes its last

collapses against the back of my skull

it sits there

not answering questions


i fall to my once steel haunches

his face is no longer

his eye – clouded, near to rupture – latches to mine

pleading? pleading? with me?

i’m powerless


i’ve spent my moment of hate

my second i’ve caring missed

i put my eyes between my knees

listening to the dust of his

tears, blood and dying


and pretend i’m not there

That Was Then, This Is Now (Submitted by Dani)

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The following poems, submitted by Dani, were written at different periods in her life. The first one was composed when the author was just sixteen years old. The second piece was created 2 weeks prior to her bipolar diagnosis...

..

A Stranger's Eyes - Age 16


Looking through a stranger's eyes
Hiding - Out of sight
Wondering if these stranger's eyes
Will hide me from the fright.

A stranger's eyes so full of love
A heart so full of grace
But no one sees what's inside me
They only see my face

I do not want to know myself
What inside me lies
When I stare into that mirror
I must simply close my eyes

Through the darkness of those stranger's eyes
I find some happy place
And only there can I open up
To show my love and grace

I Sigh 2008: 2 weeks before diagnosis


I sigh but don't cry
I want to cry until
I am purged of the pain

I can't cry
It is like a dam
Waiting to break

The pressure building from
A raging storm
What if the dam breaks?

The water floods
It can't be stopped - unrelenting
Leaving distruction in its wake

More pain
But for all the others
Release is the dam's alone

Release for the damned
So I sigh, but don't cry
The price is too high

The small cracks in the dam
slow release nor real relief
Just cracks and slow leaks

The pressure still building
Cracks hidden without repair
Integrity weakening

Maybe there is not stopping the flood
Planned, contained flood
To protect those in its path

Options - not options
Responsibility, fault, blame
Never purged from the pain

I sigh

All They See Is Me (Lindsey)

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My story is in the form of a poem... I hope that's okay. This is my life with bipolar 2 mood swings.






All they see is me….
By Lindsey






When I feel you coming
it is like a tidal wave that slaps my face,
and captures my breath.
I can’t run from you, I can not hide.



I have to face you,
as if I am in a field
all alone
and I am being hunted.



When I have been captured
it is disabling.
You take possession of my soul.



You rob me of myself,
my emotions,
and my thoughts.



I take on your feelings
and your judgment.
No matter how grisly it is,
I am forced to cope with it.



You drive me to be your abettor,
in all the shameless acts
that you perform.



You leave my loved ones to
pick up the ruins, when you
have had enough and gone.



When you depart,
I am left crumbling
with little explanation.



I am weak and I am drained.
I have nothing left to put forward.
All you cause is pain and heartache.



I try to hide you from the world
and detest it when
you suddenly peer around the corner.



The majority of the world has never met you.
Some are intrigued,
most despise you,
and the rest
are worried by your presence.



You are a part of me,
and I am accepting that now.
Not everyone is that willing.



I can not seem to control you,
no matter how hard I try.
For now, I just need to live with you.



I am not sure if
everyone can
live with us both.



Not many see you
for who you truly are.



All they see is me.






- Submitted by Lindsey

Truth or Fraud (Terry)

i am a fraud. a convincing, conniving fraud.
i wake up a fraud.
i sleep and dream a fraud.
i eat as a fraud would. mashing food down my gullet with no taste or want.
i’m a fraud without a seed of omnipotent braggadocio.
i'm a damn good fraud. warding off suspicious eyes and ears to the ground.
but i think sometimes the opposite is true.



Then the fraudulent uprising of a life spent searching the wrong answer to the right question or the right answer to the wrong question crawls between my skin and sinew. it's a conundrum i'm still working out.



i am the fraud that i regularly wish would leave the world alone. it's a stone i drag behind me without end and every once in a while it overtakes me. telling the world profoundly, "you're just a fuckin' fraud, all make-up and no image in the mirror. you've got no capacity for any real emotion, for any dog emotion. your entire life has been dedicated to hiding behind the walls of big words, dubious intellect and smart ass sarcasm. it's just not anything that anyone should admire. your empty, shallow and a facade is quickly melting."



the grindstone, the gravestone is my burden. i roll it up the hill and i conquer it temporarily. then it rolls, carving devastation in its path. in some ancient Greek mythological nightmare this is my life. the unburied Sisyphus, the angry gods, the punishment of never ending up and down that contemplates which is worse – life or death.



call me Sys, a nickname, a shortened life, a fraudulent effort to act noble in the world of dread.

- Submitted by Terry