Madness Suppressed
Allergy medication seems to press my brain through
my skull until it runs out of my ears, thoughts and life
force leaving me, I stumble on like a Golem without a
chem, unable to accomplish anything
A concentration span of one second at most, one foot
in a sandal, the other in flipflops, only one earring, too
anxious to stand still long enough to get hold of the other,
pressure and confusion mounting
Stopping every task to tackle another one halfdone also,
starting on an official text then realising I don’t know who
I am nor where I am – aha, a dead giveaway that I am no
longer part of this universe - where
An actor always knows at least one of these things, I feel
worms crawling in my eardrums, takes all my self-control
not to fish them out with a sharp knife, I hope allergy attack
over before I go irretrievably mad - and
Cannot return to the conventionally normal state of
suppressed madness in which we all live…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
I used to wake up at 4 A.M. and start sneezing, sometimes for five hours. I tried to find out what sort of allergy I had but finally came to the conclusion that it must be an allergy to consciousness.
quote by James Thurber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brother The Class Clown!
Brother The Class Clown!
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted May 8 2006
Dedicated To My Brother.
My brother was born an accident!
He was always in accidents.
He burned his hand with a torch
Because he did not look before he was bending,
Just last week working.
He fainted with a swollen head and eyes
at the Air Force base in March,
Because he did not take any allergy medication.
He got a rusty nail in his foot
Because he did not see it.
He walked up a crane and
So he sprang his foot many years ago.
He has a broken nose,
Since I do not know when.
My brother is an accident waiting to happen!
poem by Lori Triggs
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Another Slow Death
Objects and things I can dream about
intrigue me, but political speeches close
my brain down, as I force my eyes to the
page of my translation document analysing
political history, the synapses stop flashing
and my brain cells stop working
Ere long I feel ill and have to take a walk
to wake up again, over and over I try to read
these boring lines, look at positive affirmations
but they only work if we really want to accomplish
something; I do not really want to repeat political
inanities so trying to indoctrinate myself
Is not working, I have eaten mountains of healthy
foods to make me strong to tackle my enemy, I have
taken medicines till they spill out through my ears, but
still I cannot carry out my task, I am a moral failure, my
conscience cannot guide me to carry out a job I am paid
for, I am willing to die the death of the ignominious
For my inability, I cannot force another morsel of food down
my throat, cannot read another positive affirmation; politics is
my nemesis, I cannot distance myself from the duplicity and
self-serving diplomacy; all the fairies have deserted me as
they cannot stand the inner turmoil as I try to kill myself in
an attempt to do what I hate and abhor
Another slow death is all that is left for my future…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Dastardly Task
One long, dry legal text, I'm trying
my best, one long dry legal text, but
nevertheless, however I try, I cannot
finish it, my head's starting to crack
I suffer for lack of oxygen, my skin is
shrivelling and nothing seems thrilling
in this long dark night of a legal text, I
cannot utter a word to reveal my plight
Or fight against my inner being, mute,
immobile, without typing because when
I try, time seems to dry up in front of my
face, psychosomatic fatigue indicates
I need people to talk to, the doll faces
keeping me company can't lift the veil of
darkness and the terrible legal text goes
on and on, I have been abandoned
By the forces of life, bitterness filling my
heart - though as soon as a joyful thing
happens again bitterness will be erased,
my soul shall soar as it always does
When wonderful ideas take my thoughts
into the higher realms of joy and delight,
but for now, let me be mute and tackle
the dastardly task of my terrible text
Shedding little parts of my heart as I carry
the yoke eating into my mind, destroying
my joy and my life
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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How Do You Tackle Your Work
How do you tackle your work each day?
Are you scared of the job you find?
Do you grapple the task that comes your way
With a confident, easy mind?
Do you stand right up to the work ahead
Or fearfully pause to view it?
Do you start to toil with a sense of dread?
Or feel that you're going to do it?
You can do as much as you think you can,
But you'll never accomplish more;
If you're afraid of yourself, young man,
There's little for you in store.
For failure comes from the inside first,
It's there if we only knew it,
And you can win, though you face the worst,
If you feel that you're going to do it.
Success! It's found in the soul of you,
And not in the realm of luck!
The world will furnish the work to do,
But you must provide the pluck.
You can do whatever you think you can,
It's all in the way you view it.
It's all in the start you make, young man:
You must feel that you're going to do it.
How do you tackle your work each day?
With confidence clear, or dread?
What to yourself do you stop and say
When a new task lies ahead?
What is the thought that is in your mind?
Is fear ever running through it?
If so, just tackle the next you find
By thinking you're going to do it.
--From "A Heap o' Linin'," by Edgar A. Guest
I tackle my terrible job each day
With a fear that is well defined;
And I grapple the task that comes my way
With no confidence in my mind.
I try to evade the work ahead,
As I fearfully pause to view it,
And I start to toil with a sense of dread,
And doubt that I'm going to do it.
I can't do as much as I think I can,
And I never accomplish more.
I am scared to death of myself, old man,
As I may have observed before.
I've read the proverbs of Charley Schwab,
Carnegie, and Marvin Hughitt;
But whenever I tackle a difficult job,
O gosh! I hate to do it!
I try to believe in my vaunted power
With that confident kind of bluff,
But somebody tells me The Conning Tower
Is nothing but awful stuff.
And I take up my impotent pen that night,
And idly and sadly chew it,
As I try to write something merry and bright,
And I know that I shall not do it.
And that's how I tackle my work each day--
With terror and fear and dread--
And all I can see is a long array
Of empty columns ahead.
And those are the thoughts that are in my mind,
And that's about all there's to it.
As long as there's work, of whatever kind,
I'm certain I cannot do it.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Sonnet-My Food-Allergy
And now and then, I taste the foods I shouldn't;
So stupidly in utter disregard;
The things I loved to eat, some now I couldn't;
My allergy too has made me a Bard.
The sufferings that follow are so great;
I take the drugs to combat Allergy;
Of course, the symptoms do promptly abate;
But side-effects do steal my energy;
1 wish I had avoided the mistake;
I can’t be careful, all the time in life;
By miracle, if God-could only take,
Away the poison that adds to my strife.
Yet, blame I will myself for my sad plight;
How can a poison turn harmless o'er-night?
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Helmet-wearing Does Save Lives
A priceless brain resides within the skull,
From which the neural control reach each part!
–A living computer that takes each call,
And keeps all organs working fine, and heart.
A brain that’s smashed in accidents can’t work,
Nor can damaged a brain-box serve purpose;
Surrounding waters take brain off each jerk:
Protect each part in correct ways, God does.
When science has shown brain-injuries so rife,
Can be averted wearing helmets good,
Why not protect your God-given one life,
By putting proper cover like a hood?
Like how a shield protects one from a knife,
Yes, helmet-wearing saves your limbs and life!
‘Helmet-wearing does save lives! ’
poem by John Celes
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Allergy Enemy Friend 13/11/2009
Something affecting my eyes, I suspect
the curry hubby added so happily to our
food, eyes swollen, vision blurred, cannot
read my book, allergy symptoms in tinnitus,
unending fatigue
Allergy is my greatest enemy and friend: forcing
me to work like mad to overcome confusion and
lost opportunities, it developed my character into
a rock-hard entity to keep fighting the symptoms
with humour
Driving me into isolation and inactivity – yet it
brought me the greatest joy: forced to seek
relief in mental activities, I read the most
wonderful books and feel compelled to
write poetry!
poem by Margaret Alice
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Hay Fever
Sitting by my stereo all alone
My baby calls me on the telephone
She says, baby take me out for a dance
I tell my baby I feel so bad
I cant go out and its making me sad
But when you see me, I know you will understand
I got hay fever, blocking up my head
Hay fever, I ought to be in bed
How can I dance when I can hardly breathe
Wish I could cure this infernal allergy
I got, hay fever blocking up my brain
Hay fever, feel the sinus pains
And all the pills and the powders are in vain
Thought I was cured but here it comes again
It goes ooh-ah
The pollen counts getting higher and higher
My eyes are sore and my nose is on fire
My throats dry now and Im starting to perspire
My stuffed up heads killing all of my desire
I got hay fever, you wicked allergy,
Hay fever, you put the curse on me
And Ive inhaled every know remedy
I cant stay cool cos Im starting to sneeze
I cant make love when I cant hardly breathe
We start to dance and my nose starts to bleed
There must be a cure for this hay fever
Is there a pill or a powder I can take
I must get a cure, for my romance is at stake
Hey fever, you tore my image down
Hey fever, I must look like a clown
I must have used every tissue in town
Im running round sniffin like a hound
It goes ooh-ah
I wanna kiss but Im sneezin instead
I cant make love when my head feels like lead
How can I pose when my nose is all red
We should be home, should be tucked up in bed
But I got hay fever
Hay fever
Hay fever
Hay fever
Hay fever
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside&Calm 1 Oct 2011
On The Outside
At home alone - kids visiting
you asleep, Carine called, she
can walk without crutches, her
leg is healed; wish it could be
the same for her broken heart
It will take two full years at least
she says she can never forget
she still laments her mother's
death eight years ago, yet -
time heals every injury
Patience will prove the adage
true; she shall be independent
even if she thinks the memory
of her friend's death will never
be erased from her mind
Everything keeps improving
step by little step; thank you
Carine, the image of you
healthy again makes me
ecstatically happy
Even if I am only on the out-
side - as stepmother of
course…
Calm and Well (Revised)
As a child I hated the life I was born into,
detested humanity, averse to everything about
my overexcited brain in a family where the misery
of nervous tension was normality - no-one ever
calmed down - led to multiple allergies
The body changes when a new personality asserts;
as a child I inadvertently programmed myself to
think of mealtimes and food as the worst possible
experience in my life, mind in overdrive as
family interaction drove me nearly insane
Today I can't eat breakfast unless the allergic
reaction food triggers is mollified by migraine
medication - if I eat something wholesome to
stabilise blood sugar, unbearable depression
and pain reduces me to a zombie state
I am Marvin the Paranoid Android, a state
so unnatural doctors and dieticians cannot
rectify it, I live a precarious balance between
excessive pain and being comfortable as a
submissive human being
I marvel at the Dog Whisperer - my psyche is an
anxious, uncalmable dog unable to live in the now,
maybe my brain is that of a canine who needs the
right discipline - if only I knew how to provide it
in order to feel calm and well permanently
[When I eat whole-wheat breakfast cereal my eyes go out of focus,
electricity dance in leaping flames in my head and I become too
depressed to pick up my pen - or anything else. When I eat other
things like fatty bacon and eggs or chicken mayonnaise, a migraine
pill relieves the distress and I do not become so depressed - simply
put on weight at an alarming rate, nearly choking myself with the
growing girth around my midriff - and eating nothing is not possible
as hunger and light-headedness make working and concentration
impossible. I am still trying to reprogram my mind to reprogram my
body to secrete different chemicals in different amounts, convinced
that life as a calm, stable, submissive canine type would be much
easier without the horrific allergy symptoms. My diary notes
explain all this.]
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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OPIUM (perfume)
This page on which I sketch my words
will hold the scent of me.
The powerful aroma of Opium
is my personal identity.
It seems to be the only perfume
that to me is allergy-free.
I've worn it now for many years.
I probably always will,
just a dab behind my ears
and never over-kill.
It seems to be my single vice
and is like a magic pill.
For it makes me feel so good.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Letting Me Die
Reading Rob Parsons ‘Heart of
Success - making it in Business
without losing in Life' I'm agitated
the author explains all should be
encouraged to use their special
gift in the workplace
I lamented doing translation is an
attempt to strangle myself, destroy
emotion and imagination - change
my basic character until I resemble
a robot, good for nothing and very
nearly dead
Then you reminded me again with
the allergy I am in a mental wheel-
chair, while others sprint ahead &
cross the finishing line I have not
even started yet, I'm like a person
born blind
I have never felt what it is like to
enjoy the wonder of vision; in my
case, the wonder of quiet routine
intelligence; with my IQ fluctuating
madly, emotions out of control, the
only way
For me to live the life of a normal
person is by dying unto myself; I
ought to congratulate myself as I
am dead, should be SO PROUD
thank you for letting me die with-
out spilling
A single dropp of blood!
Friday 27 April 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Pressure Point
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I've paid all my bills and I've acted so well
Ain't been cheating, there's nothing to tell
So why all this pressure, I dont understand
I call on my neighbours, and lend them a hand
Doctor, oh doctor, I'm willing to learn
Well all of my bones, well they toss and they turn
Mother, oh mother, I'm begging you please
To rid me of madness and cure this disease
... (?) told you what I have become
With all of this pressure, my mind's on a run
... (?) changing, let's hope for the best
Maybe it's something to get off my chest
Doctor, oh doctor, I'm begging you please
To rid me of madness and cure this disease
Mother, oh mother, I'm willing to learn
Well all of my bones, well they toss and they turn
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
song performed by by Zutons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living A Lie
I can't seem to find out what I feel
Burned out dreams of others which I can steal
Take or leave this way I seem to you, it eats right through you
Ripped up parts of things I should do, I'll run around and tell you screaming
Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know
Still don't see much of me giving in
Much too strong to live outside these sins
Feeling like I'm taken lightly, think you see right through me
Words of those that still despise me, think it's eating me you're dreaming
Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know
When I seem to believe all that I've done wrong
You can take all that's right I will still move on
Taken all I can give it seems that I don't belong
Push me further from this go on
Oh I live a lie, oh I live a lie, oh why even try
I've been leaving thoughts below
Still I feel I should know
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Write Of That Journey
I remember how my mother would hold me.
I would look up at her sometimes and see her weep.
I understand now what was happening.
Love so strong a force
it broke the
cage,
and she disappeared from everything
for a blessed
moment.
All actions have evolved
From the taste of flight;
the hope of freedom
moves our cells
and limbs.
Unable to live on the earth,
Mira ventured out alone in the sky -
I write of that journey
of becoming as
free as
God.
Don't forget love;
it will bring all the madness you need
to unfurl yourself across
the universe.
if this me is not I who Am I?
If this me is I,
That appear and disappear,
Knowing life and death,
Feeling depressed by pain and
inflated by pleasure,
Fatigue by the strain and compressed by pressure,
is it that I,
Colony of cells,
every instant one cell die,
and one take birth? If buddha told, he is void and
universe too,
Who spoke to whom?
Is it Buddha or some one more
wise than Buddha spoke?
Is it to ignorant mob he spoke, Or to joblessly and meaninglessly
to void? In this plane when I believe,
this me is I am,
It is true at this level,
If not then I am above this
plane!
Starting journey as part of universe,
Changing robe after robe,
Shedding old skin acquiring new,
I grow to maturity,
where drops wisdom leak from
heaven, through my skull and fills brain,
I grow to what I am!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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State Of Confusion
Woke up in a panic,
Like somebody fired a gun
I wish I could be dreaming,
But the nightmares just begun.
Theres flooding in the basement,
Theres water all around.
Theres woodworm in the attic
And the ceiling just fell down.
Im in a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
Im in a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
All the dirty dishes
Are still in the kitchen sink.
The tumble dryers broken,
Now the tellys on the blink.
My girlfriends packed her bags
And moved out to another town.
She couldnt stand the boredom
When the video broke down.
Dont know why I feel so bad.
Is it the weather, or am I going mad?
Dont know why I feel this way.
I dont know whether Im coming or Im going,
Cant cover up cause its obviously showing.
Its a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
Were in a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
I dont know whether Im coming or Im going.
Should feel happy, should feel glad.
Im alive and it cant be bad,
But back on planet earth they shatter the illusion,
The worlds going round in a state of confusion.
Standing on an island
In the middle of the road.
Traffic either side of me,
Which way will I go?
I shouldve stayed at home,
I should have never come outside.
Now I wish I never tried
To cross the other side.
Im in a state (state)
State of confusion (whooooh).
Its a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
Lyin awake in a cold, cold sweat,
Am I overdrawn, am I going in debt?
It gets worse, the older that you get.
No escape from the state of confusion Im in.
State of confusion Im in.
Whooooh
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Casper
I don't know why
I can't seem to cope without you
My brain keeps telling me I need you
I sometimes wonder
if I suffered brain damage
From allowing you in my life for so long
I feel like I lost myself in you
And there seems to be no thoughts
Just incomprehensible impulses
It's like being mentally paralyzed
And I wander around in a blank haze
Unable to proceed for days
And nobody seems to care
Or comprehends what my problem is
All you can see is someone
Who is unable to help themselves
When I Think Of Myself As Dead
WHEN I THINK OF MYSELF AS DEAD
When I think of myself as dead
I think of what it will mean for my loved ones
I pray they will not lose heart and hope because of it-
When my father died my brother lost hope-
When I think of myself dead
I wonder about God and God�s purpose
Is there really an afterlife?
What could it mean?
Will I meet again those who have gone before me?
When I think of myself dead
I think about a body in the ground
Worms eating it, cold paining it-
When I think of myself as dead
I think about never feeling anything again-
When I think about myself as dead
I think about the work I have left behind
And whether it will mean anything to anyone
And for how long-
When I think of myself as dead
I think of all the memories that will go with me
I think about nothing and more nothing and the end of the universe-
When I think of myself as dead
I think of life going on down below
Life with all its beauty and pain
And I pray and I pray again
My loved ones will be able to manage and make their own lives still happy
When I think of myself as dead
I pray to G-d
That somehow in some way
It will not be the end for me forever.
When I think of myself as dead
I think of myself as living again somehow
In a way I cannot now know-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Brain Without Orientation (Revised)
Quite content with my lot having finished
Rob Parsons ‘The Heart of Success, Making
it in Business without Losing in Life' - given
my shortcomings and limitations, and
specifically, the allergy
I couldn't have lived a self-absorbed creator's
passionate life, but I'm delighted to do
assembly-line translation for Government
departments, achieving the most important
goal: happy relationships;
My nuclear family is kindness itself - poet
brother a wise mentor who safeguards my
mental health, my twin sister much happier
now that her dreams are fulfilled - in short,
life's improving
Though phenomenological Zen-Buddhist
existence is impossible due to the allergy
I love reading and music - my routine job
entails challenging research, I might not
deserve merit but everything's significant
Falling into black holes and nihilism of life's
emotional roller-coaster yet I'm lucky,
content, my colleagues are wise angels
teaching me to concentrate daily, what
more could I ask, given my beginning as
A brain without orientation?
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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