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These poems were written by my brother who died on the 22nd April 1977. He was wrapped up in the psychiatric system and had been on medication for several years. One day just before his death he asked me the question “Do you think psychiatric medication works?” I always being honest with him said “No!”. Then he planned his death, sold his record collection and his few possessions and wrote these  poems. I added to my answer to his question that you never knew and there might be new meds in the future that work. He told my late father what he planned to do and that he had no way out.And my dad witnessing his despair and suffering told my brother not to talk about it but to do it.

Yoyoing up and down with his mental health he spent a lifetime in and out of Gaskell House in Manchester a small unit for psychiatric users. Everyone knows of someone who has taken their own life. I fight constantly to keep my son alive because he suffers from depression and mania. I fight to give him hope and what hope is there for people who suffer from their mental health?

HOPE! We could give no hope to my brother and what hope now in return do I give to my son? Every morning he wakes up to the horrors only he can see and feel just like my own horrors. Should people who suffer from trauma be more traumatized by harmful medications and shock? By rejection from society who can’t find a place for them? I know if my brother had the financial support I have had as regards my DLA and if he had had the talking therapy I now receive he might have lived.

I contacted a Jungian therapist online there being no therapists around my area whatsoever. She could have helped me but refused and although educated enough to talk me through my darkest moments. I found my current therapist on MindFreedom America David Oaks’ website. He is wonderful. And he has helped me tremendously. He even talked to me at the end of the phone when I was in crisis and that night I slept. My son needs talking therapy not medication. He said he worked through his depression once when therapy was available and it helped him a great deal. There are more and more youngsters becoming involved with the psychiatric system. More and more youngsters are becoming long term patients.More and more youngsters are taking their own lives. None of this is reported in the national news.And people in general are not interested in this dark macabre subject. The mentally ill are considered this. Ill and needing treatment. Forced treatment. Or ill advised treatment. But where oh where is the Hope?

My brother would have been 62 this August if he had survived. And if he was still alive what answer would I have given to his question today? It would still be the same that medication doesn’t work. But I would have added but there is psychotherapy, and there is Nick Putman trying to set up Open Dialogue Therapy. And there is Sandra Breakspear setting up Chy Sawel. My son now is 36 and this is the only hope I have to give him. And it is all so so out of reach.

I myself write poetry. If my son dies what poem will I write?

Here are David’s poems:

Childhood Memories

When we were kids and played together

And laughed and ran in sunny weather

We didn’t care about the trials of life

We didn’t know about the pain of strife

The sun always shone and the rain never fell

And I remember the stories which we would tell

Of pirates and treasures and far away lands

The music of Christmas, the big brass bands

Now we’re grown up and drifting apart

And there’s sadness in my heart

But I will always remember you as a little girl

And the funny way your dress would twirl

Your shining hair that you would touch

Oh how I loved you so very much!

(this poem he wrote about my sister and they were very close)


Coming of Age

Let the rain pour and the wind cry

But let your happiness reach the sky

You laugh and cry and make a joke

And we know you are the joy of folk

You fill each life with endless bliss

And you seal it with a tender kiss

Just care about your friends and especially  yourself

And then you’ll never end up on the shelf

Think about tomorrow as well as today

Will you be unhappy? NO WAY!

(this poem David wrote about my sister’s best friend Lorraine)


Poem for a Princess

I see you in my mind’s eye

A beautiful woman of whom I cannot lie

And when your golden tresses cascade in the light

It does not take all of my might

To worship my every simple delight

As I wish to hold you in the midst of night

Give me but a second, oh serene creature

To contemplate your every feature

Your bright blue eyes, your lips as red as wine

Your perfect roundness of every line

Give me one hint of your feelings towards me

Of those closely hidden thoughts so far away to see?

Oh dream of the night, and the vision of day

Tell me you love me I dearly pray

And by and by I will tell you why

You resemble so much a star in the sky

For as my time quickly passes away

I sorrowfully think of the day

When my mind and my heart can no longer behold

Your beautifully crowned hair of gold

(David wrote this for his ex girlfriend 23rd March 1977 she left him for another)


Sad Lady

Dear Sad Lady, if only you had a penny

For every single hurt and pain you have experienced

You would certainly be the richest lady

On this cruel and cold atom we call earth

Your mind is so fragile and yet as strong as the hardest diamond

And the morning slowly opens your eyes and soul

To more and worse agonies which only you can see and feel

But let these dark shadows beware

For their very tempting will be their own executioner

And the light will flow like a torrential sea

Into the whirlpool of your thoughts

And you will find peace and happiness

In your beautiful and yet so sad mind!

(David wrote this about me when I had ended an affair with a man that went wrong before I met my husband of 33 years. He wrote it in the Winter of 1976. Around the time he asked me that question about medication)


The Road

Betwixt night and day you will find me when my heart doth pray

My very soul torn between the reality of logic

And the illogical forces which my heart doth obey

Give me a while until I set my mind at rest

For what good is love in one person’s mind

Against the evils which people manifest

Or sorrows in their lives which they do find

I seek the Lord’s power within me but find it not

Have I touched upon that lonesome road to hell?

Is mine one of those that he forgot?

If so, where am I who can tell?

I must be on that dark and lonesome road I know so well!


The Judgement Day

The word could be heard a billion miles away

As the child lay speaking in the hay

He was heralding the coming of the Judgement Day

And telling us the direction in which our souls should sway

None could tell us more clearly the way

Or whom our hearts and mind should obey

He handed it to us on a simple wooden tray

So remember your time is over on that Judgement Day!

(David believed in Jesus and life after death. I wish my son believed in him too. But I am praying for guidance that my son won’t take his own life just like David and so many others that do this today including children.)

2 thoughts on “THE ROAD/

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