Sunday, October 11, 2015

A POEM BY GARY G PELOW, BEING WATCHED

Are they watching me? Why are they suspicous of me? Why do they check through their doors when I am in the hall like I am some kind of thief? I have done nothing wrong, I am not some kind of pervert or criminal that lurks in the hallway, I am of no danger to them, my neighbors who open their doors at my slightest movement or noise to look at me with fear and suspicion, I am no different than they are, I just live here like them, I mean no harm, but they look at me with fear none the less. I do not understand, is this real? Or coincidence? Or is it my paranoia?  I struggle to understand others, but my mind is blocked and clogged like a drain by schizophrenia and paranoia, I wish others would leave me alone, I have done nothing to deserve this fear, it just is not right, not fair that I must live like this with others watching my every move, or at least me believing so.  Another day of fear is ahead, like all those that came before it, the unchanging monotony of fear, depression, worry and mental illness, I will continue to struggle even though part of me wants to die, I will not raise my hands against myself, I WILL NOT BE MY OWN DEMISE OR ENEMY.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

A POEM BY GARY G PELOW, THE BID.

There is so much in life that can be bought or sold, to the highest bidder
with the right amount of money.
I wonder, do we buy and sell our souls for the highest bid everyday?
If I want sex with my wife, is it because I have bought her with food, housing,
medical care and clothes?
If I give my life as a soldier, if I die for my country, is it because I sold my life
for university financing?
Are the poor and their restlessness calmed down against revolt because they
sold their promise not to agitate with payments from the welfare state?
Did I sell I sell my body and soul to the psychiatrist and government for
payments from Social Security?
I do not believe one needs to sell his soul to Satan or Lucifer to move into
worldly success, there are enough evil, powerful humans to sell that soul to who
will give success for a tremendously high cost, Satan is not real, Satan is just
the name of an idea of real people buying and selling souls.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

A POEM BY GARY G PELOW, THE COLD.

There is cold air and wind abounding everywhere I go, the cold of fear.
I would prefer the cold of the lashing winds and chills in the air rather than fear,
I do not even know what I am afraid of, not of death, not of crime, I do not know.
There is great uncertainty in my soul lately, my heart is pounding, I am sweating
in fear in fifty  degree fall weather. My shirt is soaking wet, I have beads of moisture
rolling off my forehead from the intensity of my fear, it is both annoying and
disturbing and embarrassing when people ask me why am I sweating in the cold.
Maybe I am afraid of disapproval, maybe I am afraid of being ridiculed in public
over minor mistakes, this type of event has happened before, the mean spirited
cold laughter of strangers makes me angry, enraged and fearful. Maybe I just do not
like people in general, the world in general, maybe I hate everyone, all of
humanity for their evil ways of not liking me, childish as that is. I am still sweating
but I am cold, cold with wet fear.