Grainne Humphrys Poetry

Written by Grainne for John Hunt:-

Schizophrenia

Wise as a serpent, my love
Gentle as a dove
You are a hand that gives
A heart that holds
Some pain, some beauty
Some terror, some divinity
Your life is to be lived, my love

Sedation, seduction
Creation, destruction
Rejection, perfection
A new direction
Your medication
Is three tablets a day
Of hope and love and trust

This combination, concoction, finely-tuned cocktail
Of acceptance, receptiveness and openness
To free, share, own and know
The terrible beauty and turbulence of your mind
To own and honor it
Your dangerous gift
To respect it’s impact
To name it, know the facts
Your kaleidoscopic mind, hallucinogenic kind

Delusions, illusions
Relapse, collapse
Inside your shattered self
Is you, gentle as a dove
Full of love
Someone I feel comfortable with

Are you fed up being the subject of intense scrutiny
Separated, feeling persecuted
Isolated
An inner landscape all of your own
A wild dog you must tame
A dangerous gift you must name
Psychic powers to be reined in
The emotional pain that drives you insane
Schizophrenia, it’s just a word
What does it mean?

 

Cruising for a Bruising

He’s a chancer
He’s a bit of a drama
Queen, he can be shy, sly, shady
A lean, mean sex-machine
Likes the ladies, can talk girly
Likes to keep his feet
Walking the street but he won’t clean his teeth
His mother calls him a dirty beast
He wears his heart on his sleeve, likes to please
He is a menace to society
Messing around with identities
Jesus Christ, the Irish poet, wigger
Punk-rocker, gangsta, a bit of rough
Wheeler-dealer, a real geezer, rasta
Raver boy, bad boy, scater boy
Sensitive guy with some soul
Street fighter on the dole
He was my hero, handsome devil
Good as gold, he’s a rogue, diamond in the rough, lily in the mud
He’s complicated, difficult, impossible, a mess, weird with a beard
A day-dreamer, he’s lazy, drives me crazy, a manipulative schemer, a selfish sod
With a good bod, a heart-breaker, a taker, tricky, a pest, a pain in the arse
The only thing violent about him is his farts
He’s a laugh a minute, that plonker, an almighty tart
Spends far too much time in Carraig Mor smoking tobacco
Wish he would rock up to my door with his tattoo
All these personas, never a dull moment
But he is a loner, wild child, a free spirit, at the end of the day
He cannot do social graces, going places, he’s persuasive
He comes from a lonely place of many faces
You are lost in confusion
Cruising for a bruising, manic thinking, my heart sinking
In the aftermath, where boundaries have no limits
The chaos, abandoned again
Hurting me before I can hurt you
Pushing me away, you stay behind closed doors
Finding comfort and cuddles with girls in the same boat as him
Sink or swim, trying to stay afloat, in the wake of destruction
Your strength is mighty, heavily medicated up to the eyeballs, too heavy he vomits
I can’t breathe, I thought you were my soulmate
I gave birth to our son
I thought you were The One, where has your spirit gone?
You are unrecognizable but the twinkle in your eye lives on
Shine on!

NOTE: If you would like to submit poetry or stories to this section please email Brian at voicesireland@gmail.com