Amazing Powers of ObservationDo you notice the subtle but common things all around you?
Do you hear the voices from the dark matter about?
Or feel the vibrations that linger and shout,
How about the entities and spirits reaching out too
Or do you feel that is a falsehood and something untrue?
What about what NASA has just discovered, the sounds in space,
Do you think they just started out of no place?
Or do you realize that the sounds are all about you here on this plane too
Oh I forgot you are sane, aren’t you??
Do you know the feeling of seeing and hearing these things?
On a daily basis I simply remain and sustain,
Attempting to stay sane,
To know that the oddities that I see, hear & literally feel,
they’re going to stay, for YES they ARE real,
They are not a figment of my imagination no way,
For far to vividly they are displayed.
But others would see that as simply not normal or unusual.
Or consider it something that only a bipolar or someone delusional
Could experience or see because they are “crazy”,
But instead perhaps it is they that are hazy,
And unaware of the details about them, oh alas…
The smells and the motions that linger and pass.
For yes I have olfactory perception too that far surpasses what others notice,
That should be no surprise since professionals told us,
That bipolars are a little more perceptive,
Yet society is rather rejective.
And the motions, oh they are not just motions you see,
They are people, and places, and landscapes here and to be.
They shouldn’t ignore these things you see,
For they have a purpose that lasts for all eternity.
They penetrate the mind and embed in the soul;
With the encouragement that there’s far more out there to know
Yet dealing with bipolar rapid, mixed mood cycling and other illnesses to boot,
Leaves one thinking that perhaps others aren’t just rude and crude,
But that they don’t get it, and never will, I believe:
For it is not something they WANT to perceive.
And yet as a bipolar I seem to somehow accept and ignore,
The discrimination for it matters no more,
For these things stand out and are quite evident to me,
That most of “bipolars” wear emotions on their sleeve.
The majority of the masses go about seeking their goods and material things
And forget about the smallness of their being,
They don’t want to realize or entertain the thought; that they are not the core of existence Instead of accepting an alternative state of being they snidely point fingers persistent,
On faulting those that might see the “details” so divine
So disturbing at times and others peaceful and sublime.
And they go about; (yes, these “normals” will parade with heads held high
All seeming cut of the same cloth and with exasperated sighs),
Will proceed considering “us” out of line;
Or insane, or crazy or touched in the head
When in fact we notice the intricate details instead.
But why should I expect any different from others?
When its has been proven time over and over, and always hovers,
That no one wants to take a moment and listen:
To the things that keep this world spinnin’.
No it interferes with the buying, the going, the party,
The times that allow their hearts to be tardy,
Or solves their need to be “out and about”
To be part of the “normalcy” society they’ll dance and they’ll shout
To remain eternally blinded you must understand,
That they can never join the ethereal band;
For never will they notice the details that abound,
Here and there and all around.
The delicate veins of the leaves,
Or the miniature pieces of dirt at their feet
Nor the sunrise so preciously peeking over the horizon to give light,
Or the sizzle of its daily setting as it lowers itself to bed each night,
And moves on to give its celestial partner its turn;
To glow and to emit a slow reflective burn,
For it never ends its cycle you see,
Just as a bipolar it continues to be.
Over and over the cycles they rotate and whirl,
Giving a sense of a much larger world.
Than others can or choose to see
I’m not sure which it may be.
But I know being touched with the “fire”
That I can see these things hour after hour.
I know the forces that are and those that are not real
Yet I also know the ones that I feel.
Deep inside, deeper than anyone could see or detect;
But I must keep that under check.
For they would taunt or tease or distance themselves far,
From someone who claims to be so off par
Of what the world only WANTS to see and know.
But trust me there are those of us who can’t show
The things that we see that are all around you my friends,
And it will never ever come to an end,
But it isn’t something to fear or run from;
But to learn something valuable and beyond comprehension: please come!
And yes it will enlighten your mind,
to step into my parlor and spend some time.
You’ll see and hear the things quiet subdued
In this hazy world I live in masked right beside you.
And you will be quiet surprised no doubt
When all the things that you find out,
Were really there all the time!
The thoughts and perception of a bipolar mind
May just be above the normal average ability,
To look past oneself and see credibility
In the DETAILS: the powers of observation,
They really are quite amazing.
So don’t discount anyone on a judgment, stigma or label
Instead step into those shoes for just a moment, if you’re willing and able.
And then smile or frown, cry or scream,
Whatever you feel it will be temporary,
Remember those of us that can’t take off those shoes
Are there beside you and yet you never knew,
For we can wear the mask so tight
That often it even gives me a chilled fright
That I don such a thing to just go and be
Something others take for granted: is that I am the real me,
But little do they know instead, I am whirling in my head
Ready to curl up and go to bed,
Yet too filled with nervous energy that turns quickly to anxiety,
And thoughts that pervade my mind are always with me,
And yet the weariness, oh the weariness comes and goes here and there
Today it is here; tomorrow it is there,
And yet I chase it around with determination
that I will not be bound by their limitations
And therefore I focus on the factors making sound,
They are all around….
Be it throbbing pain, beating of my racing heart, or feelings I’ve fought
Or often times the pounding of the thoughts;
Just thoughts so random from here to there they scatter
Upon my dusty floor …but no matter
I can pick them up once again as quick as a flash
For no matter how hard I try to hide them they can’t be stashed,
Or silenced or eased off by command,
No that takes the DIVINE hand.
And when my troubles seem to be getting a little too tough
I know in my heart and soul and from his precious touch
That the Lord is with me and will always be,
Without him I couldn’t make it past ME….
“I just can’t keep myself away from me” someone once said,
And NOW I get that completely in my head…
A truth for us all to contemplate,
But no, most would think it only belongs on a bp’s plate.
For the oddity will need something on which to cling
And no one else is able to sing,
In the same note as I am, no matter their good intent,
For I don’t know where everyone’s morals and empathy went.
But need it not, no not one bit,
For holding our head high and yet knowing that we’re spent,
Gives a weird sort of satisfaction to know that we are just “bent”
In a different sort of contortionist way
And that it will all be okay,
To just stay the course of knowing our illness is here to stay
Yet education and proactive is the ultimate way
To face the obstacles and play the masked game
For the bp hurdles are always the same,
And at least we have a title, and a direction of cause and treatment too
But yes, it will always be with you
…that they have told me more than one or two.
It took a while for the doctors to convince me,
For I was resistant to accept it at first,
And the paranoia kicked in and said I was coerced,
Then I began to realize the differences in me,
That in others I could not ever see:
The Mania sent me whizzing about
And all of the projects I had to get out,
Regardless how silly or small they may have seemed,
to others looking in at my pipe dream.
Constantly thinking of what amazing things I could do
From writing and drawing, and never ever through
For I get distracted from chore to chore
And eventually learned not to take on any more ..
And then end up sleeping upon my bed mid afternoon
For my body often feels as big as a balloon (all 110 lbs of it!)
My body an armor a force upon which I must fight
To move my arms and legs day and night
Yet I am not complaining and know there are others FAR worse
Than anything upon my plate and I don’t come first
And never should I nor anyone really,
Yet The Normals, well they are privy.
And will eternally go first into that bright city light
While the hermit like bps shiver in fright
Or of paranoia or panic attacks and ocd
But do you hear complaints from me?
No you do not, for even if I could without incident,
I know that I would have to be bent
Into a million pieces before I’d relent and go to a public mass of place
And yes that even includes with the mask upon my face,
One building, two or even three….perhaps
But trust me you don’t want me to lapse
In a pubic place and be along with me you see;
For embarrassing it would be for you and me,
But just be there for me and listen sometimes
That is all bps want not intricate attention and chimes
Heralding out their illness and symptoms,
But someone who can keep secrets with them,
Some one who can listen and really try to get the gist
Of what we try to explain through our eternal mist,
Yet how to describe the indescribable I would like to know
For then I could tell you, or even put on a show!
Of what it is like to be "the me" I am
And know that some one somewhere I’m sure would understand,
But I know not why or how or when,
For I’m the same as when I began,
The same person, the same blood type, the same fingerprints too
I am the SAME person, why can’t that point get through?
But trudge on I will step after step through the landfill,
Of hallucinations, delusional thoughts, and the mood swing mill,
For I carry that glass without spilling a drop so far,
And remaining half full it will not mar,
The life I have left here on this plane,
And know another awaits me where my abilities will be considered SANE,
For it will remain half full at all times no matter what others do,
I have to hold tight to that and I will, and I want to help others steady theirs too.
For there is nothing that can fill that self acceptance space,
But my belief that God has put me in this place,
For a reason, a reason yet I have to discover,
Yet with divine intervention I know I’ll uncover,
The spot in my life so preciously the Lord’s
And with him and his white soldiers and swords,
One sweet day he is going to come for me
And take me and my loved ones to heaven you see
Therefore I must endure this domain on which I am sitting
Until that meeting…
Until that meeting…
I will endure, but not near what he did for ME
And yet so few refuse to see
That it was done for them too without complaint or comment one
He took it all upon his Son,
And here we are, now judgmental and shouting,
Complaining and grouching,
Where has all the love and compassion gone?
My amazing powers of observation are telling me it was but a song….
Yet a beautiful one…..
So why stop singing, for we are not done!
There needs to be something, somewhere, somehow,
To make others stop and recognize NOW
What they are doing to each other each day
Through their words, their work or their play
Whatever it may be we face each morning and through out the night
We should never give up the fight.
To stop the stigma, stop the labels, stop the judgment…
For no one on earth is able…
Cast the first stone…
Go ahead and toss it alone,
For if each faced their own demons inside,
Everyone would be ready to hide.
Yet I keep watching and I keep hoping,
That this world will awaken and stop cloaking,
All that are touched with a spark and a flame
Into a category that they consider the same,
For even with a mental illnesses or even a physical one
We aren’t meant to be clones and our evolving never done.
Yet my experiences offer little hope for change,
For humans are creatures of habit and seem to often cage,
Their unfounded beliefs and ideas
And never let them be altered in their heads,
That wouldn’t be kosher or normal you see
So therefore my hope must lie within me.
How hard that is at times it is true
But touched with bipolar I never fail to find a creative way through
The briars and brambles that plague my daily path
Another unknown or ignored fact,
We are the dreamers and the creators of the beauty
So in touch with what I see now as a duty
To pry open the eyes and hearts of those quite gone cold or self inflicted blind,
to the unique beauty of the bipolar mind.
Can’t you see it in our eyes, in our demeanor,
That we are in touch so much more than what is behind your pointed finger?
Regardless if you can see it or care to look
We are still existent and so many before me have shook
The very pillars of this “normal” society without revealing,
The embers that burned inside their psyche quite willing
Yet they too wore the cloak, the mask and the cover
For the masses would undoubtedly hover
Over the state of the mind, not the performance or accomplishment
Therefore silently I sit
And keep my internal gears to myself as I’ve always done
Watching the ever rising sun
With these secrets that I never knew were “abnormal” from others
And who’s to say what others have under THEIR covers,
Even as a child my perception was supremely intense
Noticing so many things others missed,
The voices I heard and still do to this day
I felt others heard and just ignored them away,
Visions of things about me I would see
And it took years to learn, that others would claim them not to be
In existence: although they were and still are very vivid to me.
So I choose to live in the world of which I’ve been placed
And thank the Lord above for the obstacles I face,
Yes I said THANK HIM beyond words to explain
For I truly believe that perhaps WE are the “sane”,
If that is a word that anyone wants to use
For I believe so few have a clue,
That normalcy isn’t something that can even exist
For we are all made different in every single sense.
So speak not to me of insanity and abnormalcy please,
For I get down upon my knees
And reflect upon my daily hurdles and trials
Often trying, not always able, but trying. …to face them with a smile.
And know at the end of the day,
I have come quite a long long way.
Do you feel that satisfaction inside
That you’ve hurdled obstacles far and wide
To just get through the 24 hour day
Regardless of the oddities you feel in every single way?
I can hold my head up and know,
That I faced the demons of the mind, the hallucinatory show,
The delusional thoughts and yes the mania and depression too
ALL within 24 hours mind you.
So speak not to me of normal and sane,
For I will tell you again,
There is NO SUCH THING!
