Category Archives: Depression

Somber Nights

Melancholic_by_intao

Somber Nights

Somber nights
Winter weather
In a springtime endeavor
Choosing my battles, losing my fights
Seeking ingenuity
Eagerly, but without clarity
The resources are at my disposal
Procrastination is deft of arousal
Thoughts pouring in
Only ten fingers
Trying to find number eleven
But the golden idea lingers
Afoot an intricate design
Why do I wait?
Where’s the sign?
Longing to become great
I waste my precious time
Looking for words that rhyme
I should be creating art
Instead of dwelling on a forgotten past
Perhaps then I’ll have a start
The chances are bleak, and the fortunes are vast

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
March 25, 2013

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Darkside of the Moon

dark-side-of-the-moon-48523

Darkside of the Moon

The pride steeps deep inside.

I want to give up and die;

No more energy left to cry.

There’s no place I could hide.

I’m in love with me!

Inescapable passion for this love,

But what’s a man to do.

I ask myself what lies on the darkside of the Moon.

Beloved waves, come wash me away to sea,

Where I’ll rise up to the skies above

And enter a more clairvoyant existence.

 

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj

March 2013

Paranoid Kitchen

The_Creepy_Kitchen_by_FifthEpsilon

I wrote this a couple of nights ago as I sat alone in the corner of my kitchen in the dark while listening to music.

 

Paranoid Kitchen

I’m sitting in my kitchen
In the dark playing a song
Walls five feet wide and three yards long
The solitude keeps me thinking
About the tunes of the blues
Men singing ’bout love and nothing to lose
Now that’s staying true to you
While you don’t got much to do
Too bad I ain’t really alone
I hear a grunting moan
Coming from behind the juice pitcher
Blowing away the picture
On the refrigerator
It’s not that I’m an instigator,
But I reckon the presence of an unwanted being
Soon I’ll be forced to pay the piper for seeing
The wonders of selling grace
In exchange for a better place

 

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj

March 17, 2013

Tales of a College Dropout

college dropout

I wrote this allegorical poem about the troubles and hardships of a College student who has given up on the hope of finding a job and learning anything that is truly worthwhile.

Tales of a College Dropout

Toiled for years penniless before I was in debt.
Studying hard with the hope of a future, a future that was bright and green.
Involved with society, I believed the lies, not knowing I was the victim
Of a failing democracy whose demise had been designed from within.
A fool I most certainly was, but a fool I am no more.
Luckily, it isn’t too late, though much time had gone by idlely waiting
For life to come knocking on my door.
A lesson learned is a penny earned.
Not that I made it big and, as I wish, live in grandeur,
But money comes my way when I need it.
There is never enough money for a man with finite desires.
I’ll take what I could get,
Until the opportune moments arrives for me to cease it.
These aren’t the rants of a boy, but of a man,
Young and firm in the pursuit of a purposeful life.
I’ve read too many books on history and the great men who came before me.
I live in a chaotically disillusioned society.
If there’s anything school taught me it is this:
Knowledge and intellect are two separate organisms of thought.
Knowledge is the obtainment of  information based upon facts and well-articulated opinions
Intellect is the ability to use the highly complex mind given to us at conception
In order to think and make, or create, things that are beneficial to our existence.
Who is more powerful than a knowledgeable person who is smart?
No one.

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj

February 28, 2013

Peace of Mind

peace-train

Peace of Mind

Coming out of the gates

Opening up all the doors

I’m feeling fine and great

Seeking love from whores

Who offer temporary pleasure

Morality dies, but where’s my treasure?

 

Sophisticated and imbued in simplicity

Most of my depression is in sobriety

All I ask for is a good time, explicitly

Refusing to become another victim of society

Blissfully living in ecstatically expounded serenation

Dying to go on tripping in self-intoxication

 

Other may disagree with me when I say

We must learn to give up the fight and reign in love

But I pray for the day that hate fades away

Disintegrating into ashes flying to the sky above

Unifying all our spirits, rectifying the sins of the deceased

Gaining a peace of mind, one that cannot be bought or leased

 

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj

March 7, 2013

A Dog Has Died by Pablo Neruda

lorca_portrait_full

 

A Dog Has Died

My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.

Some day I’ll join him right there,
but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.

Ai, I’ll not speak of sadness here on earth,
of having lost a companion
who was never servile.
His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine
withholding its authority,
was the friendship of a star, aloof,
with no more intimacy than was called for,
with no exaggerations:
he never climbed all over my clothes
filling me full of his hair or his mange,
he never rubbed up against my knee
like other dogs obsessed with sex.

No, my dog used to gaze at me,
paying me the attention I need,
the attention required
to make a vain person like me understand
that, being a dog, he was wasting time,
but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,
he’d keep on gazing at me
with a look that reserved for me alone
all his sweet and shaggy life,
always near me, never troubling me,
and asking nothing.

Ai, how many times have I envied his tail
as we walked together on the shores of the sea
in the lonely winter of Isla Negra
where the wintering birds filled the sky
and my hairy dog was jumping about
full of the voltage of the sea’s movement:
my wandering dog, sniffing away
with his golden tail held high,
face to face with the ocean’s spray.

Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit.

There are no good-byes for my dog who has died,
and we don’t now and never did lie to each other.

So now he’s gone and I buried him,
and that’s all there is to it.

Translated, from the Spanish, by Alfred Yankauer

Nihilistic Tendencies

Nihilistic Tendencies

A cold embrace hovers over me
Disseminating all the light that once was
It is as if it had never been there
Day by day, the darkness grows as it is nurtured by confusion and doubt
Night after night, melancholy is no longer a feeling, but a state –
One that has been welcomed with warmth
God is not the question. God is the problem.
Why lie about his existence when I know he’s real?
Others may feel comfort in ignorance. Not I.
Comfort – in a predestined existence that is full of endless beauty,
Yet plagued by the stark reality of eternal damnation,
The product of our very own fabrication and design.
I seek no comfort because there isn’t any comfort. Not in this world.
The very purpose of our existence is empty and plain;
Though I believe the evil behind it all was giving man thought.
How is one bestowed with such incredulous talents
With the notion that none of them may be used,
And if allowed, must be appropriated accordingly?
We would have been better off being like the angels in heaven above,
Or ignorantly roaming like animals.
Instead, we were forsaken with knowledge.
A curse disguised as a blessing for the wise.
I comprise everything that I am worth and have been given.
My life, my soul, my world, my salvation, and all that comes with these pleasantly unpleasant things.
I risk an eternal life in the burning flames of hell
So that God may answer me this:
Why? Why have you forsaken me?
I, a servant once so humble to his master, have fallen from grace and the wings of his mercy.
But as I fall deep into the unwavering depths of everlasting despair
I seek to have my question answered by the One who had created me.
Never had I asked to have been created, and had I been told of the realities
Never would I have agreed to any of this,
With all the temptations and wonders at our disposal
It’s too easy to lose it and spend the rest of your days in an ever antagonizing squalor
Full of anguish and self-hate, hate that had been with you since your birth.
We do not live in a mad world.
We live in a sad world. It’ll never stop being sad.
A life entwined in a web of unresolved problems will never be saved.
There is no hope for anyone nor anything.
The only happiness we’ll ever have is this moment.
This is the only moment, the only opportunity, the only goddamn and blasphemously unholy holy chance we have to shine bright
Like the sun, a star that is equally fragile in it’s damnéd existence.
Reign in the fire before the fire reigns in you. Cease the day.
Too many before us, before me, have asked the same old questions.
Misfortune is man’s inevitable fate,
but we are given a short shot at real living before reality kicks in.
Life’s a bitch, and then you die; fin.

Written by Mensur Gjonbalaj
February 27, 2013