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The battle

Two adversaries locked in the brain
One is for loss one is for gain
One side negative thoughts abound
The other positive floats around

What controls these impulse sites
Who has got controlling rights
Not the man who shares the space
With two opponents face to face

Outside forces dictate the rules
All manner of men all manner of fools
The mind is just the receiving station
Of messages taken for translation

Angry words fill the negative side
When someone deceived when someone lied
Sarcasm, hate occupy the matter
And many a word of idle chatter

It is a battle royal unevenly matched
When the soldiers of doom have been despatched
Then from a friend goodwill is spoken
And the march of evil is finally broken

Reinforcements arrive for the army of hope
Ramparts are built on the slippery slope
The positive side is fighting back
Although outnumbered it is going to attack

Can the tactical plan work to defeat
The army of dread that the good always meet
As the contest goes on inside the head
Started simply by something that’s said

The battlefield becomes racked to the core
Nerve ends split sinews tore
After days of fierce fighting a victor is found
And the negative force has gone to ground

But as with all battles the foe will retreat
And regroup again where the vanquished meet
In the land of depression at the back of the sun
The battle is over but the war is not won

YL

Loved the poem! Describes the goings on in my mind perfectly. (and probably many others).

Then from a friend goodwill is spoken
And the march of evil is finally broken

I feel this bit does give some hope!
And the last line is very accurate.

The battle is over but the war is not won

Good poem.

Karren B
xx

Karren
Thankyou for your comments . Posting this poem was a difficult decision for me as I know it can be a taboo subject but in the end I thought it might help other people who are battling with depression as I DID for a long time . Notice I have highlighted the word did as I have been "free " for a good number of years now and I am sure writing this poem certainly helped .
I was encouraged to write poetry by the therapist who was treating me at the time and this poem was the result . Now whenever I feel down I pick up the pen and paper . I think it must be a way of expelling the negative thoughts from my mind .
I was beginning to wonder if I had done the right thing posting the poem because of the lack of response so the words you quoted are perfect in their timing and I dedicate them to you


Then from a friend goodwill is spoken
And the march of evil is finally broken
YL

YL

Thank you for the dedication, much appreciated...

I find it always helps to get the negative thoughts out rather than brood on them and sometimes when you see them on paper they don't seem so bad after all.

Was going to comment when i read it a couple of days ago but sometimes a poem can strike a chord that is too familiar and it becomes difficult to find the right words. so i just kept it simple.

Those two lines are very true, A few kind words written to me recently helped me to finally win one of those battles!

Karren B
xx

I wanted to add my thanks to you for posting this YL as well.
You have made some very important statements and I am sure that a good few people have found this post a comfort to read.

BestWishes

A
x

Yorkshire Lad wrote:
>Two adversaries locked in the brain
>One is for loss one is for gain

This is from Leonard's song, of course, the one where he considers two opposing options; the man telling him to not ask for so much and the woman telling him to ask for more. No coincidence that Leonard chose a man to depict the sacrificer and a woman to depict the greedy. He knows that females are never satisfied, never happy with what they've got - and that's why he would never have one hanging around his neck.

Manic-depression. Light and darkness. Hot and cold. High and low. Up and down. Yin and yang. The male and the female inside all of us. So many things that are in opposition [or not quite totally so] that would have occurred to me before Leonard's song had. Innovative way for you to use the line to inject the humour of your interpretation of it as a knock-off from Leonard's lyric and make a statement regarding Leonard and women, Geoffrey . If only what happens in the brain were as much of a conscious choice. Or have Leonard's choices always been so conscious? But then that's another topic. I wonder if Leonard's own depression gave rise to his lines. Some females are, of course, happy with what they've got, as opposed to always seeking... more, more, more ~ but then that's another topic, eh?

I really appreciate your poem, YL. Excellent description of that battle, wherein your brain is the arena.


~ Lizzy

withdrawn by Byron. See below.

Can I take it that you are remembering the scourge of Clinical Depression?

Lizzie has mentioned Manic Depression, which is a beast of another colour.

Writing what burns you, can be a cathartic experience, in that it allows the mind to dredge through the swamp of life while opening a small window onto what may be. Like Leonard, you have come through the Darkness and lived to speak the tale. There is always a slight shadow in the far distant background where the beast lays unbidden but partially hidden. Being aware of its scent makes you a better hunter than being fearfully hunted.

Byron wrote:Can I take it that you are remembering the scourge of Clinical Depression?

Lizzie has mentioned Manic Depression, which is a beast of another colour.


Writing what burns you, can be a cathartic experience, in that it allows the mind to dredge through the swamp of life while opening a small window onto what may be. Like Leonard, you have come through the Darkness and lived to speak the tale. There is always a slight shadow in the far distant background where the beast lays unbidden but partially hidden. Being aware of its scent makes you a better hunter than being fearfully hunted.

Byron
"Writing that burns you can be a cathartic experience " . Those words truely resonate with me . The writing of "The Battle " exorcised the demons within me and I found that climbing "The slippery slope " was infact not only achievable but a fulfilling experience . You are absolutely correct about "being aware of its scent making you a better hunter than being hunted " . Once you know the nature of the beast you are less fearful of it .
Thanks for your comment Byron
YL

YL, being at the bottom of a well and hearing a voice, one looks upward and sees someone looking over the edge of the well and saying to you, "I can really sympathise with the way you are feeling down there," is the usual sentiment from helpful, caring people.

Being at the bottom of a well and hearing a voice, one looks to one's side and sees someone standing next to you, who says "I empathise with the way you are feeling down here," is the sentiment from a torn kindred spirit.



TKS.

Byron wrote:YL, being at the bottom of a well and hearing a voice, one looks upward and sees someone looking over the edge of the well and saying to you, "I can really sympathise with the way you are feeling down there," is the usual sentiment from helpful, caring people.

Being at the bottom of a well and hearing a voice, one looks to one's side and sees someone standing next to you, who says "I empathise with the way you are feeling down here," is the sentiment from a torn kindred spirit.



TKS.

Am I right in thinking you are saying the people at the top of the well can lower a rope but it is only the torn kindred spirit that can understand whether you grab hold of it or not !
YL

lizzytysh wrote:
>I wonder if Leonard's own depression gave rise to his lines.

Well, I am sure it contributed. He wanted to depart from his depression and envied the bird he saw at Hydra. It had crashed into a telegraph wire. Its corpse just hung there for days before wind and weather finally disengaged its wing and brought the broken little body to the ground. To him the dead bird up on that wire symbolised freedom; had it been living he would naturally have written about a bird in the sky - never a sitting target like a bird on a wire. Cats sit on walls, fish swim in the sea and birds fly in the god-damned air! Regardless of all the nice yarns you might have heard about the origin of his song; that bird was not breathing - take my word for it. That's why he noticed it. It had "escaped from the dream of life," - as Shelley (one of Leonard's favourite poets) wrote.

Hi Byron ~

I was hoping you would show up in this thread. I knew your comments would be substantive and meaningful, and sure enough...


~ Lizzy

Interesting anecdote, Geoffrey. Of course, having seen so many birds using wires as perches, it never once occurred to me ~ on my own ~ that the bird might be DEAD. The freedom that "I have tried in my way to be free," was always to me the freedom that the bird has in its ability to be free. Yet, why would it be something that the bird would need to TRY to be. But a bird crashing into a telegraph wire... the jolt of the collision, like birds fly into windows? Or, a wire that wasn't grounded and hence the bird was electrocuted? It all brings different images to mind that the peaceful ones I've always had.

. . . that bird was not breathing - take my word for it. That's why he noticed it. It had "escaped from the dream of life," - as Shelley (one of Leonard's favourite poets) wrote.

You're more than a little convincing here.


~ Lizzy