Strength of Heart and Soul

This poem is about a supervisor of mine who supervised me during my internship for my license. She died of Lung Cancer in 2006 while still supervising me as an intern.

Model of the healing kind, both helpful and Divine,
     rare power to help discouraged souls
to open up their eyes.
    I appreciate you lending me the gold straight from your heart,
with that gold, pass it on
    to those who stand apart.
I know one day I will prevail and succeed to reach my goals,
    when I do, I will remember you,
the strength of heart and soul.

Paul Hickey
11-25-11

I See, I See

This poem is about all the things in my life which has lead me to being part of the mental health system. It includes friendships that really weren't friendships "Witch's Son", relationships gone wrong "The Phantom", loneliness from being ostracized from the "In-Crowd" for not doing whatever the "In-Crowd" wanted me to do, and suicide attempts in the earlier parts of my life which almost lead to death "Bring me a hammer, my face is red, hit me until I can't breathe again". These attempts would leave me hospitalized in intensive care for weeks with a security guard positioned outside my hospital room to make sure I didn't try anything drastic "The sound of funeral music tuned in my head", not to mention two years of my life that I live in a hospital setting as well as a state hospital.

"I see", "I see", a little war
that brought me to a psycho-ward.
"I see", "I see", those little thoughts
that hung me down for tears to drop.
I release my agony everywhere,
but miss the brain that brings despair.

"I see", "I see", a puzzle piece,
these thought have got me on a leash.
"I see", "I see", a witch's son,
the spell on me is all or none.
Bring me a well to wish a sum,
the sound I hear are the sound of guns.

"I see", "I see", me in my head,
I wonder why the living is dead.
"I hear", "I hear", a sound in my bed,
vibrations of funeral music tuned in my head.
Bring me a hammer, my face is red,
hit me until I can't breathe again.

"I see", "I see", my thoughts are lost,
split me open, the future is shot.
"I see", "I see", the two that rise,
a phantom and a voice of sigh.
Death it seems afar and near,
the phantom brings me phantom tears.

"I see", "I see", little too much,
to what my heart has little to touch.
"I see", "I see", a silent goodbye,
remember of the brain to die.
Can't picture me in tomorrow's scene,
no beauty my heart bring forth to me.

Paul Hickey
11-25-11

Only God Can Judge Me

This poem is about equality and hypocrisy. How many of you have been in a position where people are judging you for the situation that you are in and giving you advice. Then these same people find themselves in the same position and they themselves don't take the same advice they have given you. For example, in today's world of unemployment. It is very easy for someone to say "Why don't you do this or why don't you do that"? Especially when they are employed. However, when they find themselves unemployed and in the same position, they don't take that same advice..very hypocritical if you ask me!

Feasting eyes with jealous words bombard disturbingly without reason,
hypocrisy surmounting with silence staring face-to-face,
as distortion of truth passed from one-to-one
animates visions in the mind's eye of gullible listeners,
taken in from inhumanity of human kind;
Whoever claims rights to control my every move
shall be stricken down with lightning, over come with karma,
left to live with guilt, or left to die by one's own hand.

Only one power greater than my own can judge me for who I am,
creator of man, beliefs of humanity born to everyone;
Flesh filled with purpose complimenting existence on this earth,
God-given needs for all, rights reserved to maintain.
Those attempting to take away shall burn in Hell,
imprisonment forever, where one deserves no freedom,
engulfed with flames of one's own making,
motive charred beyond recognition.

Paul Hickey
11-25-11

Idiot Up My Ass

This poem is for anyone who knows someone who is rude, insulting, and literally a pain in the ass. Have you ever heard some one ask you when you are mad, "What's up your ass? Well, if you hear it again and you have someone who is constantly insulting, you can say "an idiot is up my ass".

Idiot up my ass,
feels like a spreading rash,
someone plunged deep into my crack;
Itching and burning, like a hemorrhoid
needing to be surgically removed before he reaches my brain,
hematochezia from a swollen vein,
he bleeds in my internal world;
A giant scab after causing my wounds,
the mouth of the feces splits me wide open.

Paul Hickey
11-23-11

Mortal Lesson

This poem is about one man's revenge on another man and woman who run off and start a relationship together leaving the forgotten man behind. The woman is caught cheating on him. His only wish, his only dream is to watch them suffer for his emotional pain.

Pull up behind him,
stop short at his back,
swing my leg upward,
kick his feet from out under.

Bend myself low,
grab hold of his collar,
lift the creep upward,
choke-force a holler.

Center my foot at the base of his spine,
arch his trunk backwards,
as the hatch opens wide;
Reveal a bottle, unscrew the lid,
grab hold of his hair and tie up his wrists.

Compel the poison until he's numb inside,
no feeling in his face,
pale outside;
Meanwhile a scream rings out from a near,
"stop"! "Stop"! "Stop it you hear"!

I then twist my head with an unreal grin,
lift up my foot
to track down again;
Releasing his collar from the grips of my hands,
no longer I seek, he is a lifeless man.

I abandon the corpse to run down a witch,
as I get closer
the witch starts to trip;
Slipping from traction as I push herself down,
she falls with a tumble, her face in the ground.

Again I stop short for torture and pain,
press down on her back
like I did with her friend;
Grasp hold of her hair to arch her back slowly,
twist her neck around, a cervical fracture.

After the break, it falls back into place,
with pressure by my hands,
I smash in her face;
Flip the witch over, a catatonic stare,
because of my past, I really don't care.

Pick up a rock as I straddle her chest,
raise my limbs high
for assurance of death;
Down I plummet with insurmountable force,
infinite blows with no remorse.

Pack up my tools,
take a casual stroll;
I don't realize the trouble
nor the future it holds.

Paul Hickey
11-23-11

Miscellaneous Rain

This poem is about someone who has lived his life with years of built up emotional pain from various incidents throughout his life. He tries to cry to release the agony and cleanse his soul but can't find the strength to let it out. However, in the end he has learned how to show his emotion and is finally able to cry.

Cranial hemorrhage,
crimson leaks into mystifying eyes,
still as night,
motionless mist catatonic in visual light,
trouble hidden beneath my cries.
I don't know why.
Why rain falls only in my mind?
Could it be infamous suffering
causing miscellaneous rain?

Why are my tears isolated in fear?
Why? Please give me reasons for this frozen stare,
my head active, pain-shearing in grief.
Can anybody hear? Does anybody care?
God only knows why I feel so scared?
Seeds are planted. What do they reveal?
Exceedingly fast, higher, higher it grows
with no direction, no purpose;
Days on end excruciating shame,
days on end miscellaneous rain.

Let go of this moisture ever silent, tranquil,
descend with liquid emotion,
ensure I am alive and can feel.
Free me, flush me inside out,
"drip-dropping", drip-dropping",
sounds, visions of scarlet tide falling,
much needed pouring,
much needed mourning,
draining me of my flooded brain,
washing away pain,
finally letting go of this miscellaneous rain.

Paul Hickey
11-23-11

Felled Disdain

This is poem that involves tremendous emotional turmoil in one's life and fear of being able to conquer his mood swings. "Felled" mean fierce and "Disdain" means to look at with scorn, thus the title "Felled Disdain". The first line, "Termination floods over an importunate spleen" means an individual who is normally strong being troubled and over come with emotion. "Of all inheritance reigns implacable scars" means that the pain is so deep that the emotional turmoil cannot be cured. "Forlorn" means loneliness, thus "Forlorn in dizziness of pain" means living with loneliness while battling the severe emotional turmoil. "I've been gnashing at grievance of disdain" means one is sick and tired of feeling emotional turmoil, so he battles it everyday. "Outgoing in pendulum ways" means that one is very active but very flaky as a result of his moods. "Felled entwining needles sway", "Cuts and needles cradle me away", "Times of winter blinded by rain" mean that the flakiness is painful and very disruptive of his daily living. The final stanza talks about judgement and other people stigmatizing him as being mentally ill. Why are they calling him mentally ill. Why won't they help him?

Termination floods over an importunate spleen,
of all inheritance reigns implacable scars;
Forlorn in dizziness of pain,
I've been gnashing at grievance of disdain.

Outgoing in pendulum ways,
felled entwining needles sway,
cuts and bruises cradle me away,
times of winter blinded by rain.

I've seen the sane bar manic listings of I as one,
being brought forth to be sustained,
"Why"?
This question has been defined deranged!

Paul Hickey
11-23-11