Hellheart Psychosis, Materpiece!!! from Daniel Staal aka Hellheart on Vimeo.



As the voices crept slowly inside of my head.
They started making choices with my own breath.
This became a matter of my life or my death.
But I swear to the Gods that I'll get righteous yet.
As I swallow the meds of suicidal side effects.
I sought not these voices that enter my head,
Nor this physical other that escorts me to bed.
Innocence, it seems, then, was my middle name
When first I tried dowsing - but ‘twas not a game.
Curiosity drove me. But most curious I found,
Were voices that spoke without making a sound.

With my mind wide open – no barriers in place,
I sat one bright day, gazing, lost in my space.
Unprepared, as a presence that I couldn't see,
Moved out of my space and right into me.
At first, it was friendly; at first, it was kind,
But soon it had plans to take over my mind.

Was it one? Were there twenty? Still I don’t know
How such vile intrusions could grow and yet grow.
While my head became such a huge circus tent
With tricksters and jugglers all fully Hell bent
On creating Hell; such a Hell without cease
Inside a clear mind that had known only peace.

If I listened and followed their every intent,
Why soon I’d be lost up my own fundament.
Do it this way, no that way, no the other, they’d say.
If I let them, I’d stand in a dither all day,
Bereft of all power to make my own choice
Becoming a puppet - controlled by The Voice.

For thirty long years I have just had my fill
Of voices and others – yet never was ill.
I knew from Day One, the original voice
Was – now I am faced with a difficult choice.
I know there exist certain spirits, you see.
But will you believe me? With me then agree?

Since Ape became Man, every race then has found
Such voices that speak without making a sound.
Consoling or harming, these words that they utter.
To help you - or force you down into the gutter.
With words that inspire or words that deprave,
Shining like diamonds, or dark as the grave.

I've shown you the counterfeit side of the coin.
The obverse shines brightly with those who will join
With you in your quest for a mind that is free
Of malign intrusion. But how can that be?
Good spirits exist – of that have no doubt,
With knowledge and wisdom and notable clout.

Those same thirty years, then, have brought me such wealth
From those that approach me, but not in their stealth.
Inform me; support me; encourage as well,
Surround me with, truly, the obverse of Hell.

Written by
The Pretzeled Poet
Michael Joseph Patton
Copyright 2015


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