DSM-IV, Revised Criteria & Moodswings - Not Categorized Poetry and Poems

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Two Poems from our Dark Poems, Depressing Poems, Death Poetry Collection

DSM-IV, Revised Criteria

Author:	Tomek Piorkowski

Poem:	DSM-IV, Revised Criteria

	DSM-IV, REVISED CRITERIA The worst thing about having a depression Is not the overwhelming sense of oppression, Nor that feeling that there is nothing to do but die. It is the admission! Yes, the admission! Nor is it the loss of hungriness to eat Nor that heavy lead feeling that drags down your feet Nor the sleeplessness that haunts, wherever you may lie. It is the admission! The horrid admission! Nor is it the guilt, excessive in measure Nor is it the joy lost in all of your pleasure Nor the fatigue filling the long hours that go by. It is the admission! This hated admission! Nor is it the fog that suffuses your mind Nor that social withdrawal from all of your kind. It is the admission! And now I shall tell you why : It is the admission that comes with the swallowing of pills! It is the admission of suffering from ashamed mental ills! And though you are consumed with the rattling of rage Yet you know all you do is but rattle your cage For once upon a time you thought you were free And now you're a patient enslaved by psychiatry And diagnosed you are as defined by the law Laid out in the manual called dee-es-em-four. It is the admission of the fact that you have mental ills That is hardest to swallow, it is the bitterest of pills. Once you rejected all thoughts of medication Which now you take with bewildered resignation And your mind's eye was forced open until you wist Under the dissection of an avid psychotherapist You're like a criminal confined by a law Laid out in a manual called dee-es-em-four. It was forced down your throat, this bitterest bitter pill And now you admit, finally, that you are mentally ill. From the very first, It was the admission, Yes, the admission, The horrid admission, This hated admission, That admission was what You found the worst! March 2007

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Moodswings

Author:	Tomek Piorkowski

Poem:	Moodswings

	MOODSWINGS What am I? What am I? What am I? What am I? In this hand, in this foot, in this body, in this eye? Am I this creature inhabiting this feature called bodily form? Am I the anger that grumbles with thunder in the coming of a storm? Am I the Love of God, or am I His Rage? Do I inhabit the fool or do I inhabit the sage? Am I that thing suffused with heavenly light? Or am I found in the darkness of the night? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Who am I? Am I being watched, or am I my mental eye? Is there a ghost, is there a thing called my soul, In the orbit of my mind, this orbit by a hole? Where is this thing called myself - In what country, in which house, on what shelf? Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? March 2007

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