I have schizophrenia. This poem is about my experience and interpretation of schizophrenia, in a poetic manner.
Please enjoy and give feedback.
The Birdcage for Spirit — by Brenden MacDonald
My mind breaks things apart
and sequences impossible order
to the meaningfully spontaneous.
I perceive a strange message conveying
while break-mind intervenes, inadvertently,
“breaking the spirit’s focus from mind and body,”
one sense I have of schizophrenia.
Blinded by internal events too intense,
I easily wander lost seeking reasons outside
for my beautiful dreaming deep within.
A shared realm entertains transformation,
and I abide by the dynamic of biology,
mind, emotion, and soul.
Those reversed call for freedom,
response, articulation, and creativity.
If I ever forget my spirit, my freedom,
and reduce merely my dimensions to three,
break-mind squeezes my breath closed,
forces a halt.
I needed to accept a cosmic origin,
that I’m not just a meaningless chance.
If this world follows only physical mechanism,
and no soul-space has a you-essence,
where could real love live and who’d wait for true love?
To escape the clutches
of unstopping nihilist reduction
in this real struggle
for sane meaning
and in this yearning for my source,
my mind found a door to open
and I could let in my imaginings,
to find the embrace
of spontaneous expression.
And I could watch on this side of the door,
as this side of the world did turn
into a magic poem I could read.
The door to spirit slid open for me,
and I could disappear out there completely,
until then leaving it open,
letting the cool and warm airs of spirit fill my world,
airs of that open world that help fill physics with life,
with vitality, with my breath ongoing,
for the drawing and passing of air entices life
into our midst.
Pursue the lessons, oh, the joys, of symbiosis!
Schizophrenia for me has been a war against myself
and those devices planted in my brain, but hold on,
because I am not paranoid! I planted them myself;
they’re devices for repression and devices for delusion.
One invents a device when a method of thinking is discovered, a method to organize meaning. Keeping in mind that I’ve never been able to well organize my room, my sentences, or organize my future, one could easily see the potential confusion for my mind released to wild nature. I feel at odds with my environment, extremely feel odd for sure. Do you want to know my biggest delusion? I believed our society was one grand illusion, for I couldn’t believe in extreme impiety, the kind of society itself broken from reality, the kind of society abhorrent to social, emotional, or racial inclusion, a society that stomped Earth’s biodiversity and stomped on fellow global citizens in holy wars of greed and creed.
I became so deluded, because I wouldn’t believe in true evil. I made up a story that some god had weird plans, and now forgetting that, I still won’t agree to see evil thru to its end.
Please: if you dig this poem,
go to dance and sing some music,
and make love, communicate.
In my waiting out storms schizophrenic,
I longed to experience this world’s sunlight again.
Feel the amazing release of your light,
deeply profound in every moment
because, really, you see, I’ve been meaning to explore and surrender to experiential discovery.
Gaia asks for tears, you pheonix,
so heal Earth with love on a never-ending quest.
Seek freedom in the sadness for the beauty that we are;
go emerge,
you can fly free from your cage….
Duration : 0:4:21
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