Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Poetry About Bipolar Disorder By Carl Wade Thompson

Carl Wade Thompson is a graduate writing tutor at Texas Wesleyan University.


Mania—an avalanche,
it comes—I can’t resist,
as emotions rise so far,
over my head, I drown.
I am high now, happy.
No, not happy—more.
I think the world’s great;
I love everyone.
But it is not real;
Feelings so fake,
cutouts that fall over
with the push of reality.
I cannot trust them.
They are lies, poison,
distortions in my brain.
Now I know it’s not real.
Just a mirage I chase,
finding no water, only sand,
reality stretches—the  Sahara.
I dare not cross at day.
Wait until night, sleep.
Tranquilizers work their magic.
Drift off, the feelings empty
Like spilled salt from a shaker.
No bad luck—this is good.
Let me dream on,
at least I know it’s fake.

Depression is a disease,
symptoms I can’t escape.
So numb, there is no feeling,
hope, the word, makes no sense.
Every day is the same,
wake up tired, feel alone.
A zombie, keep walking on.
My Dad says: smile,
you’ll feel better that way.
He don’t believe in psychology.
Thinks it’s a quack science,
made up, make believe.
His words cut—a thousand razors,
feel so bad—I start to cry.
If Dad can’t see it,
something plain as the light of day.
There is no hope I’ll get help,
just sleep my life away.

Bipolar Tide

My mind moves like the ocean,
coming and going with the moon.
The tide rolls in—mania,
I am at the top of the world.
There’s nothing I can do,
mental waves crashing down.
Vision distorted by emotion,
can’t trust my brain anyhow.
The tide rolls out-depression,
I am the lowest of the lows.
Numb beyond numbness,
can’t feel anything anymore.
Meds help with balance,
keeps the tide at bay.
But the tide will come again,
constant cycle of the Wheel.

A Day in the Life of Mania

The day starts with pills,
always stick to the routine.
I need to walk my path,
try to keep mania away.
I don’t go low that much,
the bad days are long gone.
But sometimes I get higher,
feel like I’m one with all.
My job keeps me grounded,
love what I do.
Just critique those papers,
lose myself in their words.
Writing tutoring;  I love it!
Don’t what else I’d do.
But sometimes I get manic,
like I can do everything.
Then I love everyone,
just want to take their hurt away.
That’s when I get frightened,
need to calm down quick.
Don’t want to go off my path,
let delusions lead me astray.
Just keep calm, check myself,
try to touch reality.
I try to think clearly,
let logic rule my way.
I am not extraordinary,
got to keep those thoughts at bay.
I calm down as I think.
My mind stays in control.
Mania’s like high tide,
soon it passes like the moon.
Every day I check myself,
Just make sure I’m sane.
Just follow my routine.
till the end of the day.

1 comment:

  1. I thank the author and the editor for these poems dealing with an invisible disease that is simply torture. It makes my problems over a long life seem so tame in comparison,