Two Hundred Seventeen (for J.B.)

Two hundred seventeen,
Layers peeled away,
We started out,
With fear and doubt,
Persistence won the day,
We built rapport,
And so much more,
I had a lot to say,
Two hundred seventeen,
Still peeling come what may.

Two hundred seventeen,
Voices in the dark,
I ventured in,
We did begin,
So truth could find its mark,
For patience knew,
As knowledge grew,
My words would find their spark,
Two hundred seventeen,
Raw voices set to bark.

Two hundred seventeen,
Traumas to be healed,
We found a way,
To slow decay,
And face what was revealed,
And in our time,
We harnessed rhyme,
So anguish could be sealed,
Two hundred seventeen,
My traumas slowly yield.

Two hundred seventeen,
Moods to mark the day,
My head’s kaput,
With dream’s afoot,
But nature lights the way,
There’s no abyss,
Nor do I miss,
The doorway to foray,
Two hundred seventeen,
My moods are nature’s clay.

Two hundred seventeen,
Poems left to write,
With every verse,
I shed this curse,
Where narcissist’s delight,
No longer prey,
I’ll have my say,
When bark returns to bite,
Two hundred seventeen,
Each poem filled with might.

Two hundred seventeen,
Thank you’s to reward,
If not for you,
I’d still be blue,
And falling on my sword,
But now I find,
I have a mind,
That plays an epic chord,
Two hundred seventeen,
So grateful you’re aboard.

© The Complicated Bunny – 03 Jul 2022

This poem was written for my clinical psychologist, J.B., as a thank you and also a celebration of all the epic work we have done together in therapy.

The Missing Verse

Oh what strange curse,
A missing verse,
Should peer from out the fog,
With brittle teeth,
It fell beneath,
Bipolar’s wretched bog,
It chose to roam,
In parts unknown,
Until it fell to ground,
Where words could spark,
In places dark,
And light each thought profound.

And if this curse,
Gave missing verse,
A reason to subside,
We have to ask,
Is this great task,
A reason now to hide,
We choose to search,
For things that lurch,
As dreams are sent afoot,
But darkened skies,
Bring sunken eyes,
When madness goes kaput.

So if said curse,
Should make things worse,
Don’t dither in your seat,
Dispel the mess,
Of life’s distress,
And rise from your defeat,
So many roads,
To conquer loads,
Push on through fearsome choice,
And don’t be terse,
This missing verse,
Will help you find your voice.

© The Complicated Bunny – 27 Jun 2022

So I was going through my list of poetry in the numbered order they were written as I wanted to see if they could possibly represent a mood chart over the past 22 months of writing. I noticed that I had no poem numbered 87. It was completely missing! Generally my OCD is impossible to ignore so it’s a mystery what happened to it. I decided I definitely needed a poem 87, to fill the gap and to complete my list and appease the OCD gods!

Lost For Words

Lost for words to soothe my mind,
I’m chewing on a lemon rind,
I cannot breathe, I cannot think,
My sanity is on the brink,
And drowning in the deepest hole,
Is where you’ll find my weary soul,
We fashion hope but there’s no cure,
To madness and it’s crazy lure.

So off unto the breach we sail,
And drag behind the benzo trail,
That hardly does a bloody thing,
But make you punch drunk in the ring,
Where pugilists and poets wage,
A war not fit for king nor sage,
Where heavy lies the wretched crown,
A futile mask to wear you down.

So down the rabbit hole you sink,
With spirit lying in the drink,
Too hot to cool, too cold to burn,
No peace at all for which to yearn,
Just raging pain and broken parts,
Still ripped apart by grieving hearts,
And torn by fate whose cruel lament,
Is knowing straight is always bent.

So lost for words to soothe my mind,
An empty head is all you’ll find,
Except on days the crazy flies,
And hurtles me towards the skies,
So I can crash and burn once more,
A Phoenix flapping on the shore,
Awaiting thoughts to clear the way,
For madness brings another day.

© The Complicated Bunny – 26 Jun 2022


Nature doesn’t know your name,
She doesn’t care about your game,
You’re at the mercy of her rules,
She will not entertain such fools,
Who do believe they are to please,
Her ways will bring you to your knees,
So pay attention to her call,
Or crash head first into a fall.

Nature doesn’t really care,
About your struggles with life’s fare,
She’s here because her comfort lies,
In ruling underneath the skies,
Which open when she makes it so,
A flood or drought, it’s all a show,
Of power over human kind,
Who strip the land with never mind.

Nature doesn’t stop for you,
Or anyone that wanders through,
Her process is not ruled by time,
She just creates as poet’s rhyme,
Forever changing every day,
She always has the final say,
It’s life and death before your eyes,
And beauty spread across her skies.

Nature doesn’t ask for wealth,
Her opulence is joy and health,
A richness money cannot buy,
Where fortune favours those who fly,
Escaping into wonderland,
No rabbit hole just peace at hand,
Her healing permeates the soul,
And fills inside that empty hole.

No nature doesn’t know your name,
Nor does she care about your game,
But she will greet you in her arms,
And soothe the pain of life’s alarms,
So journey forth with no pretence,
There’s no more room upon that fence,
Make haste to let your spirit roam,
And let adventure be your home.

© The Complicated Bunny – 24 Jun 2022

Not Even A Number

Not even a number,
To fall through the cracks,
Dismissed as a crazy,
Their ignorance smacks,
Of stigma and judgment,
What hope have we got,
When futures are handed,
To this wretched lot.

Not even a crazy,
Nor human by stretch,
To deal with these people,
Makes innocence retch,
I thought I was moving,
Ahead of the pack,
But fate intervened,
And it wrestled me back.

Not even in balance,
My life is a cheque,
Dishonoured by day,
And by night I’m a wreck,
I swore I was done,
With the whole bloody thing,
A weary old fighter,
Alone in the ring.

Not even a window,
To look at the stars,
My dreams are in tatters,
My goals are a farce,
I’m done with the wonders,
I thought I could reach,
My heart washed ashore,
On a desolate beach.

Not even a number,
Forgotten and raw,
I thought I had hope,
Till they swindled the score,
So pass me a lemon,
And brace for the pull,
I’d like to push on,
But my bucket is full.

© The Complicated Bunny – 21 Jun 2022

Life’s Loser

Life’s loser, that is me,
A shattered soul my destiny,
I try so hard to no avail,
This tiger has a broken tail.

Life’s heartache, I refrain,
From chasing things I know are sane,
The crazy feel of life’s lament,
Is punching holes through thick cement.

Life’s damaged, bitter seed,
I cannot plug the wounds that bleed,
The silent loudness in my head,
Encapsulates the truths I’ve bled.

Life’s fractured, don’t you know,
My spirit frozen in the snow,
No words of comfort rescue me,
The pieces form an endless sea.

Life’s funny, I’m the joke,
Such ridicule each time I spoke,
So now my voice shouts deep inside,
In places where it’s safe to hide.

Life’s brutal, awful bruise,
I long to give, they long to use,
But finally I learned my place,
Who is to blame for this disgrace.

Life’s loser, that I am,
Left on the shelf like rotten spam,
I wish my life would run it’s course,
And buck me off this manic horse.

© The Complicated Bunny – 19 Jun 2022

Glasser’s Basic Weeds

I know you want a hopeful spin,
On Glasser’s basic needs,
The problem is my life,
Is overgrown with toxic weeds,
I cannot even contemplate,
What freedom must be like,
My heart has nothing left to give,
My soul is one big spike.

I cannot think of hope or love,
The water is too deep,
And figuring where I belong,
Disrupts my weary sleep,
My life’s about survival,
Nothing more and nothing less,
I’d love to find a knight,
But I was never good at chess.

And fun is a distraction,
But it doesn’t change a thing,
No matter how much progress,
I’m still stuck inside the ring,
Absorbing brutal punches,
From a life that hits me blind,
I’d love to have some peace,
But it is just too hard to find.

So if you want a hopeful spin,
On Glasser’s basic needs,
We have a lot of work to do,
On pulling out those weeds,
My heart is locked in turmoil,
Every day I start to slip,
Before we dance in marigolds,
Let’s loosen mother’s grip.

© The Complicated Bunny – 19 Jun 2022

This poem is the sixth in a series of poems based around Dr. William Glasser’s Choice Theory Basic Needs which is something my psychologist and I are currently exploring.


One wrong step, ka-fucking-boom,
The torment is unfurled,
A dagger twisted in your gut,
Your knuckles torn and knurled,
And when you hit rock bottom,
Then the shit is really hurled,
Yes one wrong step, ka-fucking-boom,
You’re right back in my world.

One wrong word, ka-fucking-boom,
Your head is on a stake,
You cannot win no matter what,
When character is fake,
A toxic narcissistic weed,
Destroying all you make,
Yes one wrong word, ka-fucking-boom,
Your heart was born to break.

One wrong deed, ka-fucking-boom,
You’re singled out for life,
The family’s pariah,
Sibling pummelling was rife,
A stupid little ne’er-do-well,
Who’s sharper than a knife,
Yes one wrong deed, ka-fucking-boom,
You’re head first into strife.

One wrong choice, ka-fucking-boom,
Your life turns upside down,
You do your best to get along,
Though treated like a clown,
Sometimes you cannot breathe,
And feel yourself about to drown,
Yes one wrong choice, ka-fucking-boom,
Uneasy lies the crown.

One wrong move, ka-fucking-boom,
You’re triggered in the brain,
Bipolar loves it’s freedom,
When you hand over the rein,
And struggling is useless,
For you cannot fight the pain,
Yes one wrong move, ka-fucking-boom,
You’re labeled as insane.

© The Complicated Bunny – 17 Jun 2022

The Bipolar Wranglers

That mania horse,
With the unbridled force,
Is hanging off every word,
The old timer’s shine,
Without reason or rhyme,
Demands it be cut from the herd.

Don’t rope it too tight,
Or you’ll anchor with fright,
We want it to trust in our jive,
It may take some skill,
But I’m betting its will,
Is the spirit that keeps it alive.

You see there’s a dream,
But it ain’t too obscene,
A race that’s the crème de la crème,
Where manic pretence,
Is a downright offence,
And jockeys prefer they and them.

It’s been a long while,
Since this brumby had style,
They’ve been in a pasture of loot,
And though they are grey,
There is plenty to say,
With a fire in the belly to boot.

So run without sin,
Let adventure begin,
Excitement will meet every turn,
Commitment’s been made,
No more need to persuade,
We’re chasing the joy that we yearn.

Now open discourse,
With this mania horse,
You may have to battle the reins,
Approach it with calm,
No intent to do harm,
Or you’ll cop a swift kick to the brains.

And there may be times,
The old timer declines,
When depression’s a mongrel to steer,
And a toxic explosion,
Hell bent on erosion,
Is channeled by something they fear.

So when they fall short,
Of the challenge they sort,
Be patient and tend to their side,
For sabotage lashes,
The bipolar crashes,
And forces our jockey to hide.

Let’s summon the force,
So our mania horse,
Can ready their fitness to run,
We want them to strive,
And in victory thrive,
For a battle is meant to be won.

So bring on commotion,
A plan is in motion,
To prance to the finish with speed,
So gather your strength,
We need courage at length,
And let’s wrangle this bipolar steed.

© The Complicated Bunny – 16 Jun 2022

The Mine/Mind Field

I never seem to catch a break,
No matter where I step,
A powder keg goes up in smoke,
I’m full of staunch regret,
It surely is a minefield,
Living in this house of doom,
Just one wrong move at life’s behoove,
And chances go kaboom.

I never seem to win the war,
That ravages my head,
The only time there’s ever peace,
Is when you go to bed,
My brain is such a mind field,
Feelings retch, emotions zoom,
It only takes a single quake,
To crash amongst the gloom.

I never seem to grab a breath,
Before I start to drown,
A lifetime full of wondering,
Will I bequeath the crown,
Of living in a minefield,
Searing hopes with bitter fume,
I try to fight with all my might,
But life is just a tomb.

I never seem to dodge a joke,
When family’s around,
The experts when it comes,
To dragging spirits to the ground,
Sarcastic laden mind field,
Painful secrets to exhume,
I know this lot has lost the plot,
I’m off to clean my room.

I never seem to catch a break,
No matter what I do,
I shudder in my silence,
As you trash the other shoe,
My life is just a minefield,
Dodging narcissistic plume,
If I could pay to have my way,
My freedom bud would bloom.

© The Complicated Bunny – 14 Jun 2022