Movement language and the god Detective and other musings

As a poet I think in syllables or beats this has become my obsession.

I have developed a movement language which feels like possession it involves everything about the way things move including myself. The voice in my head talks to me through these movements they seem to correspond with beats and unstressed and stressed syllables. But I can see it every where even in the movements of leaves in the trees and the way stems move on the breeze. Even in animals movements I seem to interpret it as language and words.

I was wondering if anyone else gets these sort of symptoms? And whether they is any name for the symptoms in psychiatry?

The answer they say like the Bob Dylan song is blowing in the wind.

In the absent mind

in tune with beats like footprints

and syllabic rhythm

the schisms of the void.

I see in all shadows of longing

the footsteps of god

tip toeing in the fields of this world

and the next

I am vexed

how can you not know you’re God

when we all come from the same source

the universe’s pure waves of consciousness.

Even in love’s honest grasping

is the everlasting

and in painting the image we paint you

and I.

we see a kaleidoscope it’s called time

and we see poetry it’s called rhyme

and we see fate it’s stars align.

The God detective and the woman with many faces

Haunted by old fragmented childhood memories of a possession of a girl by a higher power, a girl who seems to know things about his future.

A 16 year old boy goes out to meet Jesus on his birthday. Then in June the same year begins a detective journey into whether his experiences were real or imagined! Leading him down a path which is either psychosis or the greatest story never told and only imagined.

The God detective 2

Through out my life my abstract mind has been able to detect and find patterns in life and the words people say. I know that life is a deeper mystery than people in the field of science and psychiatry think.

I have battled with my demons, demons which I still battle. I rattle the cage fight in the desperate stages and write in the pages of my own story. I maybe a dragon falling off the wagon of sanity. However I am intrigued by her she is the greatest story I will ever gain. I know her name is Sophia she is the girl with many faces.

I still see her sometimes though it’s strange the voices quieten and sometimes even stop. Is this a coincidence?

Porcelain by Moby Songs in psychosis

Songs in psychosis part 2

Excuse the pun I love playing play by Moby.

Especially why does my heart feel so bad and Porcelain. Porcelain reminds me of a time before my diagnosis of schizo affective disorder.

It was the year 1999 I was waiting on a bench to speak to a woman I liked who was a year older than me. When I caught up with her all I could say in my painful shyness was sorry for ignoring you. Although I also think I said out loud or in my head I never meant to hurt you I never meant to lie so this is goodbye.

Like the song porcelain says about waking my kaleidoscopic mind. She smiled and then said she’d be late for her English class at the college we attended.

I remember listening to the song porcelain by Moby in the mental hospital the priory where I was recovering from psychosis and thinking that song was about that precise moment. About two people both aware and unaware of being part of soul or collective consciousness. One having been dreaming about dying all the time because they were everyone in a sense with quantum entanglement and the way time works later on I would read “The egg” a short story by Andy Weir which expanded my theory.

Some people may argue that I have psychosis or schizophrenia and scientifically it can’t be true and I am believing a falsehood and cannot possibly prove it.

However my reality has taught me the synchronicity of events.

Events such as someone I knew telling me her real Mum wasn’t her real Mum it was someone else and she was someone else.

Me seeing a ghost after a pupil at my school had been run over. His eyes two different colours one green one brown. This can only happen through Heterochromia or a heavy impact or hit.

Reality is not always able to be checked and I can’t always join the dots. It seems visceral and uncertain beyond realities curtains. I just get the feeling that I was supposed to uncover things and situations. Music was seen in the past as magic and maybe we are all plugging our headphones into our collective experiences and consciousness!