Posted on 23rd Mar 2022
My black dog I'm an inside-out depressive who should be worse at night though, what's fairly impressive is the way I put things right. Waking, I'm contrary, sometimes I feel so bad, it's really rather scary, I feel I'm going mad. Then, as the day progresses, I begin to feel okay, reflect on my successes, melancholy goes away. So, when it's time for bed, I'm feeling good, again, knowing what lies ahead; in the morning, start again.
Posted on 13th Feb 2022
Living with a monster A monster lives inside my head, He's dormant, but capricious And, like a gangster playing dead, When wide awake, he's vicious. He lashes out at those he loves With savage, brutal words; Not sugar-coated, soft kid-gloves But terms you don't need heard. And when this monster's dished his dirt, I need to take the blame; Apologise to those he's hurt And hang my head in shame. To keep this beast within control Is difficult to do, And so my wife, God bless her soul, Lives with a monster too.
Posted on 7th Dec 2021
Whisky Maudlin Please let me die, curl up in a heap; life is too much, I just want to sleep. Yes, I'm depressive but life is so tough; it's distractions oppressive, I've had quite enough. I know that I love you but you don't need me, please let me slumber, please, let me be.
Posted on 17th Nov 2021
Torn This terrible rage in the critical cage of my mind I find, needs to out to tantrum, to shout at the ones it holds dear then, regretting the tears sneaks, like a thief back into its cage, for an age. The other half-me, the one that most see, is sweetness and light, treats people right, is a cowardly knave, the other half's slave. It needs to grow teeth, find the courage beneath the boldness to change, kill the beast in the cage.
Posted on 12th Oct 2021
Natural healing Gaudily-coloured, thoughtless litter, a twisted, traffic-soiled tree. The neglected house with it's burglar-challenging boarding. A slovenly parade of prematurely closed shops. The pushchaired child in a tissue thin frock and summer wellingtons, gawping at a passing hearse, its occupants a study in collective grief. Suddenly, a Blackbird, dark as jet, with a beak the colour of school custard, hops down onto a knuckled branch, opens his throat and sings the first few notes of his honeysuckle song, lifting my soul and I know I will make it through another day.
Posted on 1st Oct 2021
All about me It is an illness. Who, in their right mind wants to feel like this. And that's the point, I'm not. But, it is self-centred, my right to feel unloved, and unwanted. It's all about me. That has to change, for the people who love me, need me even, for those I can help. I have to change, before it's too late.
Posted on 29th Sep 2021
Go Away! Confident you've put it to bed. Your doctor has weaned you off meds. Sure that you're over the worse, the bastard bites back, like a curse.
Posted on 22nd Aug 2021
A Cure I went to the doctor's, feeling slightly depressed, Expecting to hear,"Over there, get undressed, Take two pink pills with your food, three times a day, There was nothing else? Okay, go away!" But she listened instead, said I could take up blogging, I protested,"It's cold, and I'm too old for jogging." "No, blogging, you fool, we are talking website, And let's check your ears, because something's not right." So, I started a blog called Calamity Jane, Where I talked through my problems and made my views plain. Folk began to engage and I soon had a group Of followers, faithful, who kept in the loop. Others dropped out, which was not unexpected, A handful were blocked when I got disrespected, On the whole, everybody was kind and supportive, Even posts not thought through, which were frankly abortive. Of course, I now know, no matter the weather We are all of us in this mad life together, My knowledge and tolerance have improved somewhat And best thing of all, I now laugh a lot.
Posted on 30th Jun 2021
is a looked forward to
release from pain,
Posted on 11th Apr 2021
Dauphy: I’m a bit upset this morning.
Hobbo: Why, what’s up?
Dauphy: That Winston Churchill bloke who you like so much.
Hobbo: What about him?
Dauphy: He used to get depressed.
Hobbo: So he did, yes.
Dauphy: Well, I’ve found out that he called his depression ‘The Black Dog’. That’s not very nice is it?
Hobbo: He didn’t mean anything by it. He loved dogs. It was just a metaphor?
Dauphy: He met a what?
Hobbo: It was his way of externalising it. Making it less scary.
Dauphy: Do you do the same when you get depressed.
Hobbo: I do, yes, but you are the black dog who lifts my mood and gets me out of that depression. Listen at this poem.
Black Dogs This black dog inside my head, Makes me sad, depressed. My black dog, who's just been fed, Is my best pal. I'm blessed
Dauphy: Aw, that’s nice.
Hobbo: Feeling better now?…