Poetry by Kris

All is the self
The world where it is felt
What’s around what’s within
Simple the mind of which integrates
let be without
To listen when it is loud
Less dualistic friction
An inner compass indicative seeking serenity.
A past provoking patterns
If only every mirror shattered
From dull self chatter.
Nirvana an axis the ego polluted
Minimized to find what’s useless
Life not just but just is
Quality of worth separating character and ego
Bleak a carved statue
Idolized routines
Morals between what’s nature and conscious
Painting over what’s written.


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Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.


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