“If you believe in truth, you are delusional!”

If you believe in truth, you are delusional! Thus, as things became even more extreme, and relativism spread from ‘values’ to truth itself, we increasingly began to see the crazed spectacle of Professors of Psychiatry ‘scientifically’ labelling everyone who simply happens to have different beliefs from themselves as ‘sick’ and ‘delusional’i.e. meaning they have a ‘fixed false belief’… while their presitigious, highly rewarded colleagues in the Humanities, Philosophy or Literary Studies department loudly proclaim there is ‘no truth, only interpretations’! No doubt somewhere or other, the two doctrines have been combined and solidified in the very same individuals such that if you still believe in ‘truth’, you are delusional, i.e. you have a fixed ‘false’ belief and require urgent ‘treatment’! Pretty deranged, eh?

Truth as the best healer. Real truth saves lives; real truth works better than any pill.

What am I?

What Am I?

Am I ‘mentally ill’? Am I a significant minor philosopher of madness? Am I a partially functioning victim of dreadful, life-changing iatrogenesis? Am I an average, ordinary welfare scrounger who happens to write bad, yet somehow prize-winning poetry? Am I Dionysus the Crucified, joyous mad proto-type of the adorable Savior ? Am I old desert-dwelling Set, father of darkness and chaos? Am I a distant descendant of that proud old tax-collector, St. Matthew? Or a cousin of dear old Anton Lavey? Am I a terrible, fanciful narcissist? Am I devout, self-sacrificing campaigner for human rights, putting my own neck and freedom on the line? Am I just a bored, cynical, romantic, (none too) cunning old scribbler of words and would-be money-maker? Am I just someone who likes to imbue his plots and poems with big, colorful, archetypal tropes? 

Do not ask who I am and do not ask me to remain the same: leave it to our bureaucrats and our police to see that our papers are in order. At least spare us their morality when we write.

— Michel Foucault

“I am becoming” — Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails

The Love Story Of Layla and Majnun

“Their friends gazed down, toiled daily at their books,
but they had other ways of learning
Love’s grammar in the other’s looks,
one glance became their grade from passion’s burning.
Their learning deepened through love’s spell,
writing notes that spoke of love’s caress.
Others learned to count, but love taught well,
that nothing ever counts but tenderness.”

— “Quas and Layla fall in love”, The Fire Of love: The Love Story Of Layla and Majnun

A tragi-comic interlude:

A tragi-comic interlude:

The patient. The patient is clearly suffering from paranoid ideation, delusions of grandeur, manic episodes, arrested development, attachment disorders, and not to mention a panoply of barely suppressed infantile fixations. And that’s just the good part!

Admission Permission. ‘Care’ in the community, or would you like an admission? You see, we’re so important, we’re so prissy, we’re so proper, to be *ahem* ‘allowed’ (don’t you dare say ‘kidnapped’!) into our highly-sought-after modern-day-workhouse, you have to get our permission!

Lock him up. Lock him up! Lock him up! Throw him in a cell and throw away the key! We can’t have this man on the loose! What will the children (who we’re drugging half-senseless) think? He must be seen to get his just desserts (although we’re not allowed to actually describe it like this, anyway its more sinister and subtly, psychologically effective if we pass it off as ‘caring concern’.. you see, even little kids in the backs of their little minds break like a twig and pale in horror at that which they know is a much more humiliating, devilish and all-encompassing servitude) ! If you’re locked up as a punishment, that’s one thing, but if you’re going to be locked up for ‘your own good’ too, with no evidence, due process or jury, then, we all know no one is safe. Especially since we’re all sinners against ourselves, nowadays.

“Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive.” C.S.Lewis

So modern. Oh we’re so modern! We’re so enlightened! Just lie back and we’ll get those electrodes tightened!

Alright, we’ve trashed his cerebral cortex. You can release him now.

Just make sure to give him a life-time prescription of Clozapine. That’ll keep him in ‘recovery’; he’ll be so recovered he’ll be drooling into his pillow every night like our faithful dog for the rest of his pathetic little life!

Friendly psychiatry. Oh we’re busy fighting the stigma, don’t you worry. Its not easy to keep on making hundreds of billions of $ when one step in our office means permanent social death. We want to welcome the world with open arms…! Those old big iron-gated State-asylums are long-gone…though, still no photography in our ‘hospitals’ of course.. we care so much about your privacy that we check on you every 20 minutes all through the night and knock on your shower door if you take more than 5 minutes,,, minions! — *ahem * I mean nurses – spruce up that bedside manner, we’ve got souls to zombify!

‘Sectioned’ by Philip Porter.

New board game idea for Waddingtons: SECTIONED. The aim of the game is to die as quickly as possible. As you go around the board you collect nonsense diseases and psychiatric drugs. Discharge squares make you go around the board without consequence and you lose a psychiatric drug until you land on a sectioned square. Once you collect 5 drugs and 5 diseases you are sent to the ECT square where upon throwing a 3 you are electrocuted and killed. Coming soon: Virtual Reality Sectioned features all the horror of being on a ward from the comfort of your living room. Ages 8 upwards.”

Autobiography of values as requisite.

To counter-act the tide of artificial, false pretenses to expert, scientific ‘objectivity’, and the docile, herd-like conformity that actually entails within social science, within the healing professions, and within society a whole, I propose that a personal account of one’s life-story, focusing on how one came to arrive at one’s central, integral values, become a standard for all such careers. This would be a move towards bolstering the development of personality and character throughout society, preventing people from hiding entirely behind their professional veneers, and presencing the real-lived experience and actual, rather than false selves, of individuals. I don’t propose this merely as a helpful task for the ‘professional’ on the way to qualifying, but as a central piece that he must present to his or her clients/patients. A kind of C.V., but, as I say, with the focus on HOW HE CAME TO HIS CENTRAL CONVICTIONS ABOUT LIFE

Harm, punish, or ‘treat’. If you harm, punish or ‘treat’ an bad man, he might just re-consider his wicked ways; but if you harm, punish or ‘treat’ a good one, he is often liable or prone to re-consider his good ways.

SILENTWELLSPRING, & another sad, heartbreaking poem

Keep your lips tight, 
Thus, you will remain pure.
Thus, you will remain white. 
Thus you will remain honest,
Thus you will remain alight.

Silence is golden;
Words are wooden.

“The less the merits of a man,
The more he will feel urged to proclaim
Them to the public.”

My friends and I,
We have not too much to offer:
Either to ourselves, 
Or to another.

We are a grounded albatross.

We are a tracked hare.

We are a poisoned well. Let our waters be still with no shimmering, thirst-quelling buckets fetched.

Swim wordlessly in the whirlpool of my eyes –ye deep, poisoned well… 
Until…– ye deep well…art drained perfect and wise.


Think not anyone will come to save ye, my friend —
With loving sustenance, warm nourishment, 
And soothing First Aid Kit;
If ye should happen to send out flares.

“When the Ox is down,
Many are the butchers.”


Sully not the world, dear Mary, with thine brazen, importunate weeping;
Spreading your woes, like a whores famished, bony legs, far and wide…
Sooner, fall into bed to mildest, most chaste of sleeping…


Being is but a magic mountain,

Viewed through mists,

soundlessly in the distance.


O, see how I bark & bleat unblest…
Ah, give thy nagging tongue a rest —
Thy poor, incessant, small, 
Senseless pest !
Sooner keep thy trap shut —
Until ye are at thine best — !


Where did the Resurrection occur:
Upon the loudspeaker, public avenue? 
Or under the hidden coffin’s most inward, SILENTEST of pall ?


I too am 35, 
And its not until we have been DUMB with dead…

That we finally become, most alive!

— Gushing waters, flowing forth anew!.–
— Rivers Of Eternity, perpetual youth! —


Nurse thyself now instead, 
Not with a desperate, Shrieking Call 
For Sirening Ambulance,
But with thine prayers:
Repeat them, with mute, motioning lips,
In the serene sanctuary of thine head, 
Yet inviolate and undisturbed.

(Ah, even your prayers also are far too loud!)

Rather save yourself,
And be quiet.

And finally, let this wan din of a hymn oblate itself entirely,
Like the Winter and its frozen lake, 
Giving way to crystal thoughts and Nothingness,
Negating all wild life…

In perfect, idyllic stillness and silence, 
Thine powers shall at last Return, my Self, my friend…
(Thine senseless, clamoring, noisy days be at an end!)

Becoming like a flower popping up thru’ the cold soil….

(Flowers too are silent. Even our Spring must remain dumb on our lips!)

Let this Silent Spring — this SIlentWellSpring! —
The Silent Spring Of Wellness! —

Outdo the birds for migrational majesty,
(Whose airswept flight to us is itself soundless. 
While the air reverberates loudly and brashly to your lips, my dove; 
But your eyes, your eyes are stagnant!)

Let this SilentWellSpring outdo the Birds Of The Morning

with its Silent Spiritual Secret Song,

Magnifying in praise and glory, my sweet thrush, 
With at last peaceful hush,


(((Peace & Love, M. J. L…. quotations from the Jewish Holy book, The Talmud))) #HappyEaster

My book:https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BWG2Y4W

Gaslit By A Madman!

If someone says ‘I am the Queen Of England”, and happens to be wearing the right regalia and be at the right place at the right time: Does that make them the Queen of England – even when they are really just an ordinary back-ally whore in a pretty suit? Probably not. But would the latter necessarily then mean they are mad, to act so above themselves? No. They could, after all, just be enjoying themselves, or maybe be making a genuine and very rationally-self-interested bid at the throne! Even if it fails and others think they are mad, might they then not be impersonating that part — of madness – lets say they just want get out of work or like scorning the opinions of others– too – and maybe they do this half-unconsciously? If not, doesn’t that mean ‘mental illness’ is nothing but an appearance, with no essential reality behind it ? Two options: either accept that “mental illness” is indeed mental, & cannot be distinguished purely or easily by appearances, OR accept that the concept is merely the enforcement of a certain social style and taste, rather than a psychological reality and genuine ‘illness’ — in other words — basically a scurrilous lie intended to defame show-boating, light-heartedly courageous or eccentric individuals . Individuals who maybe in fact attempting to relieve the most deadly social malady of all times — unthinking social conformity and cowardice in the face of other people’s opinions, one of the root causes of the The Inquisition, Holocaust, Soviet Russia, war itself, and countless other tragedies. Furthermore, must we not then say, since mental illness understood in such a manner is merely an appearance, that those who believe in it as if it were an important reality, actually locking ppl up and ‘treating’ them for it in one big further charade, are THEMSELVES highly delusional — and highly dangerous? I.e., that they themselves are the ones who are in fact most genuinely, ghastly and sincerely mentally ill — unless, of course, they too are just acting. ;)(But, of course, surely, that would just make them MUCH more dangerous and even more socially pernicious… wouldn’t it? Since they are literally kidnapping, ruining the reputation of and chemically lobotomizing millions of ppl over their stunts…just like their Nazi forebears…#gaslitbyamadman

My book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07BWG2Y4W

“It feels like rape”

It doesn’t just ‘feel like it’. It IS constant rape, constant invasion, violation and destruction — not merely of one’s body, but of one’s innermost sanctum, one’s own mind — over months and years, rather than minutes. Every fucking second their chemicals are in your blood stream you feel like you’re being held down on the floor on your tummy with Satan’s big fat veiny purple dick up your backside, with your forehead smashing against the tiles. Its like the difference between having your city receive an unexpected and rude, over-lavish gift one morning from a ‘madman’ who you suspect to be wielding a knife but doesn’t actually use it to inflict any real harm, or even have one — although the experience is obviously still quite disturbing — or having it blockaded, the population starved to death over bitter months and years and the buildings eventually burnt down by a trained, legion and ruthless, psychotic army. Then in the afterlife, your ghost drooling forever like a dog, YOU are forced to make amends and supplicate, constantly bowing your head to the feelings and opinions of your evil oppressors and slaughterers!