Mental health

Sure he was always a bit quiet

No harm in that

No harm in him

Oh don’t know

Shocking temper

Mild to nuclear

Took no prisoners

Blood flowed

Ah no more than before

A bit more

Sure the size of him he has plenty to spare

His memories flowed

Away and back

To and fro

Meandering here and there

Just beyond reach

Then cascading in

I’m in in in they screamed

The voices screamed

No he roared and he cried

And bleed from his eyes

The head case

Ah no harm in him

He liked to touch the petals

The petals

Caress the petals to feel the quiet

To sense the calm of nature

To hear the colours he closed his eyes

And dreamt of the leaves falling

Drilled a hole in his head

Nah his lower back

And his head

Nah that’s just mental

A rumour

A procedure

So many thoughts to decipher

Intelligence breeds the madness

A strange world for one who thinks

Too much

Way too much

Can’t change a leopards spots

Or a mule’s nature

An inclination to be thick

Thick as fuck

He figures stuff out you know

Solves problems

Sees the wood

For the trees

Awful dense jungles

In the labyrinths of the thoughts

As they flow from paranoia to dreams

From theories to substance

From imaginations to poems

Drained the black from the white

Pressure he was under pressure

His brain or his mind

His soul or his self

Who knows who cares

Who wonders

He wonders

Why kindness is scorned

Why love is lost

Why lust is carved from stone

When love should be found

And lust melted from the wind

Of a butterfly’s wings

Is he mad

Or bad

Does he dream nightmares

Is he a nightmare

Is his violence in his soul

Is his kindness in his mind

Lost or found

Leave him run free in the field

Wild screaming to the banshee’s air

Calling out to the world

Sure who’d be caring or listening

Not even himself

A funny fucker at times

Strange

Nah just funny

He’d make you laugh

Or smile

Just wants the quiet

Sure who doesn’t

Loads don’t

Loads do

Hasn’t much to say for himself

Would talk the hind legs of a mule

Different strokes for different

Moments in time

Sometimes the words are lost inside

With nothing to say

Or nothing to feel

Just calm

Calm waters are the easiest to disturb

Throw in a pebble and a tsunami

Rips the heart out of the island

Still they drained the black

The pressure gently easing

Close his eyes

Close his eyes

And let his mind see the dreams

He seeks inside

Clean the blood and clean the skin

Refresh the mind

Let the river flow

Let the thoughts

Crash and flow

Gentle and wild

Let me be the man

Who touches the petals

Who talks to himself

Who sleeps in the quiet

Who roars in the night

Whose brain works and works

And travels here and there

North to east south to west

To see all the beauty

He can imagine and feel

And write something

Of beauty that meanders over your

Mind and touches your heart

And makes you shiver

And smile and love

Frankie writing after realising mental health is just a fine thread so easily tripped over. Where in lies the blame? Certainly not with anyone else but Frankie himself and not even fully with him for chemicals mix and match and swap and combine and he takes responsibility for everything himself and for his mind and thoughts and anger and the line we walk is one we can balance upon but the tight rope walker has a safety net because no matter how good he is he knows sometimes he will need the net to catch him. Thank god for the doctors and the nurses and the therapists who are our nets . And thanks for the pen and paper or keyboard which is the estuary to the opium of my soul which is my need to write

Saturday

They sense the special

In each other

My ma and my daughter

The wonder in their eyes

The gentle strength

Of their soul

The words of my ma

Expressions to explain

The exploration of the self

Is added to by the query of

Her grandchild

Standing over the place of rest

Of my grand parents

Shared with the ashes of my da

Her question with a twinkle

do you get to choose

Your grave neighbours ?

Catching my eye

The one we share in misdirected

Common beauty.

Our laughter mingled

With the words

Reaching beyond the ordinary

To a place where

Dreams embrace the wonder

Of thoughts drifting unheeded

By human restraints

To wonder at the beauty of the world

Where dragonflies drift within the mind

Through rainbow slides of self discovery

Little notes to myself

They dumped the Trump. Finally realising he wasn’t the winning card but losing cad

Katie Taylor beat the world

Feed the nightmares by eating a cheese sandwich. Does different types create different imaginings

Talking reaches out and takes sadness in its embrace

There’s no coming back from treating some one with the ultimate contempt of believing they will except a betrayal of love. The betrayal is nothing only a moment in time. The contempt of thinking so little of them represents an internal self definition which last a lifetime with no return

Love yourself the way your dog loves you

Love others like a cat loves you

Sometimes another human can make you turn away with the desire to lash down a Valium by drinking a dissolvable tramadol

Blind boy’s pod cast look it up

Take a break and learn from the laughter created by Tommy tiernan

Read something

Remember you belong

Don’t be going off asking an Irish person a question if you aren’t prepared to spent a bit of time listening to the story of the answer

The story won’t be all true but you know it’s not true and I know it’s not true but we both know it’s not true so that’s okay.

Problem is some people don’t realise the stories aren’t fully true. The real quest is to meet the challenge of knowing truth from story telling and discovering which to enjoy and which to ponder upon

Cats love while still protecting themselves by remaining the cat who allows the human into their lair

Dogs love by wagging their tails and jumping around like a lunatic just out of the house for the bewildered after 20 years in a strait jacket

No matter how bad COVID is or anything else the options are to learn from the experience or to not

(C) frankie Mcgivney writing stuff

A seat

The bench, old and worn, was cold to the touch through the wool of my trousers

Hi

I could see a line of grime etched into the lines beneath her face as she looked up from her can and threw the shortest of dirty looks expertly mingled with a sound mixture of disinterested distain

Sometimes no doesn’t have to be put Into words or perhaps a look is the strongest no

Still and all it’s not a bad day all things considered

The look again this time I noticed a bunch of her hair stuck together with blood or sweat or vomit or whatever sticks hair together when a member of the human fraternity doesn’t get to avail of the washing facilities of a day or even a month

You can go fuck of if you think you getting something out of me I’m no hooker

I’m no punter either

Good cos I’m particular about who I be having the fun with

Me too

Yeah right

Yeah right exactly

Don’t be getting fucking smart you fucker

I just saying I not into hookers

You should be

Ah here

Well the state of you with the head on you and that Gammy eye and you look like your mother picked out the clothes. Is that wool?

Feck sake you’re worst than a commentator on one of them shows

What shows

You know the xfactor bollixology

Here listen don’t be using that kind of language in front of a Lady

Fair enough

And a slow breeze trailed across our path while we both looked on at the city passing by. a quietness in the kaleidoscope of hustle

You know no one talks as they walk

I looked up and listened and watched

Your man over there is talking on his phone

I thought I told you not to be a wise fucker

You only mentioned being a smart one

Whatever. He is on a phone that don’t count

Why not

It just doesn’t

Why

Cos it’s like the mad cunts who talk to themselves it’s not real talking it’s just pretend chitter chatter

I see what you mean

About the phone

No about them not talking they just are all rushing

Yeah

Yeah

Have you a light

Have you a fag

Yeah

Right then

And I saw her eyes were brown when she held the flame

She would have been a beautiful daughter to some Da a long time ago

She held the smoke deep inside, feeling it’s warmth before slowly releasing it back into the world

I better make a move

She nodded and looked back down

I touched her shoulder gently when i stood, the briefest of contacts; she didn’t react, maybe she hadn’t noticed

I walked on with out a word been uttered to a soul, a member once more of the rushing throngs

(C) frankie mcgivney

Just a random story of top of my head I hope it reads okay. The words I love to write

Rambles

Does the laughter make the truth you speak more palatable or more interesting. When I talk and their expressions fade to blank and you wonder is it because they know more than you , is there some secret fountain of knowledge from which they can easily scoop another dram of facts, a cup you are not privy to its location.

Or do they not get what you are saying or trying to say. Does it go over their heads or is it so boring as to float on by their consciousness

And you can make them laugh sometimes they probably giggle too much to the point of potentially embarrassing physical reactions.

But do they hear the thoughts behind the humour . Do the theories pass unnoticed . Does the inquisitions of my mind to touch those bits of humanity beyond my grasp register in their minds

Who realises the true vocation of the clown to reveal the audacity of the kings new clothes made of invisible thread

When they tell me their fibs do they ever realise I know. Do they fool themselves to believe their attempt at fooling me works. Does the ability to smile and ignore the lies make me more or less of a man. So easy to answer because of course it depends. Sometimes acceptance of others attempts at deception is a kindness to them. Other times a kindness to myself because I don’t care enough to point out the fallacy of their fiction.

Then there’s the beauty of the opening of the eyes when someone of the same realises you have recognised their own explorations of the world around us. The meeting of the eyes as minds embrace in a search for revelations beyond the common tongue

(C) frankie Mcgivney (falling asleep and wanting to keep writing but the eyes fail where the mind strives to explore)

Rolling

The blood we share on the mats

Pulsing to the crunching of our ears

A slap of a fist for respect

We delve within ourselves to feel

For the truth of who we are inside

In their eyes I see the beast inside

Not the one of popular imaginations

But the quiet one whose growl

Resonates with the freedom

To stand for who I am,

unshackled

From societies expectations

Perceptions and deceptions

Who’s choice instead

Encompasses

The gentle word

The silent smile

The ferocious growl

To allow

The tender touch

(C) Francis Mcgivney

Brazilian jiu jitsu is for everyone but after a while it’s only for those with the beast inside

The group is not the individual

You know there is no muslim or catholic or liverpool supporter or american who defines how members of any given sub section of the human population actually are in truth. Being a gay jewish supporter of animal rights for the cray fish may define you personally in your own perception of your current manifestation of humanity but it doesnt define every gay jewish supporter of cray fish rights.no more than been born into the muslim religion puts you in the same bracket as a fundamentalist who wants to kill people. If it did considering the amount of muslim people who live in Britain then there would be alot of dead people. Perhaps the best illustration of the ludicrous nature of such thinking is the indiscriminate nature of terrorism which kills people of every creed

So it is with every aspect of human interest or definition or subscription. Most muslims are more worried about what will happen in eastenders and concerned with managing to get to work on time after bringing the kids to school than with what button to press on the suicide vest. Much the same as very few irish catholics had any interest in blowing up building in birmingham or indeed catholics had any interest in burning women at the stake for being witches eg women who refused to be subservient to men of very low intelligence and even lower imagination.

All this populist nonsense reducing all members of groups to minuscule defined generalizations has to be combated by everyone by overcoming the temptation of group think (Orwell was one of the few prophets actually worth listening and learning from).

A quick study of the profile images on social media clearly illustrates the manner in which people define or wish to define themselves, often in very small self contained criteria. Yet if asked I’m sure we would all see our true selves in a wider context. A multitude of aspects of personalty, interests and loves and hates combining to make who me or you are different from Betty from number 6 down the road and a whole lot different from Simon who lives in a boat on the Thames.

Yet still it seems if you believe the papers after a terrorist incident that all muslims want to engage in jihad and take over america or britan or even ireland. Have people who believe this nonsense even talked to a person of the muslim faith or heard them laugh at jokes or tell stories about their children. Do you really believe they are all driven by the darker interpretations of passages of the Koran as much as Christians are driven by the obnoxious drivel of the old testament of the bible.

Those who think the ravings of the Koran are evil should take a wee peak at the old testament for some truely mental passages especially as they pretain to how members of the female sex should be treated. I have to admit to thinking all such books as absolutly horrendous attempts at control and discrimination which are only worthy of study to see the depths mankind will go to in order to gain control over others via the wide spectrum of our species imaginations.

The source of all information should be considered before you take credence in its validity. The people who sell you this drivel have agendas both political and financial. Creating a them and us mentality allows for a political stance which plays to the lowest common denominator of humans tendancy for discrimination thus allowing for elections or brexit type votes to be won

Just ask yourself truthfully do you believe all soccer supporters are holligans as the papers would make you believe if you read a newspaper with no prior preconceptions or loyalties for soccer ball and then ask yourself perhaps is the same been done to muslims and the Arab people in general. Look up saudi arabia and you will see that the vast majority of people there are more interested in food for their children than in bombs.

(C) frank mcgivney