Verses From a Troubled Mind

John is a freelance writer, ghost-writer, storyteller, and poet. He always tries to include a message or social commentary in his writing

A Much Needed Introduction

It has taken me quite some thought as to how to adequately introduce these two poems. They are not the usual light-hearted pieces that I usually write to inspire, entertain, or promote some message I feel is important.

In fact, I have to admit, they are downright dark and depressing in content. That said, they do touch on topics like domestic violence and mental health that are not widely discussed, but that many people may be able to relate to. I think they do both have positive endings.

Most of my recent writing has centred on the Poems From the Porch series and poetry I have written for other people. I just needed to do something a bit different before I publish the next in that series. These two poems were, in fact, also written at the request of other people, but outside the HubPages community.

Analyse Me! eventuated from a friend jokingly telling me that her life has been so eventful she should write a book about it. I said I thought I could do it in a poem, so she dared me to, not believing it possible. I don't think she'd mind me saying that she was 'blown away" with the result. It was originally intended to be kept private but she felt it may be helpful to someone else in a similar situation so gave me permission to publish it (with a little censoring.)

Our Mind is a Battlefield is the result of someone else asking if I could write a poem on based on the subject "Our Mind, our Own Worst Enemy" and in the style of Charles Bukowski. If anyone is familiar with Bukowski you will know his style is not exactly easy to duplicate. That is if he even has a style, his poetry is very much freestyle verse. Anyway, I researched his life and read a lot of his poems, and this is what I came up with.

Analyse This! (If I Could Change My Life)

Tell me Mr Psycho man,

Analyse my fucking life.

Tell me what has caused this,

All my pain and strife?

You blame it on my childhood,

You’ve really no idea.

It’s just your “go to” reason,

Your thinking’s all too clear.

Your analysis is from the books

By psycho’s Freud and Jung

Whose troubled childhoods tainted this,

That song’s already sung.

At school I was a terror,

That’s something I admit.

I couldn’t help the things I did,

I’m an ADHD kid.

I shoved a girl through a glass door,

She really was a bitch.

I’d do the same now with the chance,

I never give an inch.

My family were supportive,

They gave me all they could.

Never once was I abused,

But no one understood.

I found a guy who turned me on,

Too young to figure why.

Maybe the bad guys do attract,

But to find the good I tried.

I admit I also had my faults,

And sometimes provoked his ire.

We often fought like cat and dog,

Our relationship had fire.

But as is quite often the case

His head was warped by drugs.

It turned him from a rugged male

Into a cowardly thug.

I crushed his Adam’s apple once,

He stabbed me with a knife.

The relationship came crashing down

When he almost took my life.

They locked him up for dealing drugs,

Not what he did to me.

He still admits no fault at all,

And now the creep is free.

My mother was my closest friend,

Her death ripped me apart.

It doesn’t matter where I go,

I take her in my heart.

My father grieves in his own way,

A man of so few words.

He carries on as best he can

Just sifting gold from turds.

My sister’s husband’s full of shit,

That’s why I have their kid.

I care for her just like my own,

From this job I never hid.

I care for people, that’s my job,

I get no thanks or praise.

Except from my clients themselves,

Their smiles just make my days.

Some days I hate the cards I’m dealt,

This life I’d like to snuff,

But those I care about win out.

I fight it ‘cause I’m tough.

“I Love You” aren’t words I use,

They lead to too much grief.

For those you really care about,

Death steals them like a thief.

I know my life’s important

To those who really know,

But my scars remind me constantly

Of the pain I can’t outgrow.

There are some people out there,

Like the one who wrote this verse,

Who sees me as a shining star

In their small universe.

So tell me, tell me, Mr Shrink

What do you suggest I do,

Spend time with the ones who care,

Or give my cash to you?

Our Mind is a Battlefield

our mind is a battlefield: it attacks us and make us doubt ourselves

it belittles us and tells us we're inferior

and others can see our insecurity

feeling in turn superior

while we just feel worthless

and broken

sorrowful

hoping that someone may praise us and lift us up

but it doesn't happen

at home our family expect too much from us

admonishing us with scoldings and beatings

but we take it all

never begging for mercy

just seeking understanding

quietly

maybe one day they'll see the turmoil and confusion

that we go through daily

or maybe they'll never really understand

it's really up to us and us alone

no one else can help defeat this enemy

that masquerades as our mind

our conscious

guilty or not

take control, pull out the big guns

and blast the shit out of it

make it hoist the white flag

in surrender

© 2019 John Hansen