Friday, 3 September 2010





I sought not these voices that enter my head,
Nor this physical ‘other’ that escorts me to bed.
‘Innocence’, it seems, then, was my middle name
When first I tried dowsing - but ‘twas not a game.
Curiosity drove me. But most curious I found,
Were voices that spoke without making a sound.

With my mind wide open – no barriers in place,
I sat one bright day, gazing, lost in my space.
Unprepared, as a ‘presence’ that I couldn’t see,
Moved out of my ‘space’ and right into me.
At first it was friendly; at first it was kind,
But soon it had plans to take over my mind.

Was it one? Were there twenty? Still I don’t know
How such vile intrusions could grow and yet grow.
While my head became such a huge circus tent
With tricksters and jugglers all fully Hell bent
On creating Hell; such a Hell without cease
Inside a clear mind that had known only peace.

If I listened and followed their every intent,
Why soon I'd be lost up my own fundament.
Do it this way, no that way, no t’other, they’d say.
If I let them, I’d stand in a dither all day,
Bereft of all power to make my own choice
Becoming a puppet - controlled by The Voice.

For thirty long years I have just had my fill
Of voices and ‘others’ – yet never was ill.
I knew from Day One, the original voice
Was – now I am faced with a difficult choice.
I know there exist certain spirits, you see
But will you believe me? With me then agree?

Since Ape became Man, every race then has found
Such voices that speak without making a sound.
Consoling or harming, these words that they utter.
To help you - or force you down into the gutter.
With words that inspire or words that deprave,
Shining like diamonds, or dark as the grave.

I’ve shown you the counterfeit side of the coin.
The obverse shines brightly with those who will join
With you in your quest for a mind that is free
Of malign intrusion. But how can that be?
Good ‘spirits’ exist – of that have no doubt,
With knowledge and wisdom and notable ‘clout’.

Those same thirty years, then, have brought me such wealth
From those that approach me, but not in their stealth.
Inform me; support me; encourage as well,
Surround me with, truly, the obverse of Hell.
They came when I needed; nowhere did I look,
And that is the reason why I wrote my book.

Ah yes! THE BOOK! First I lived it, then I wrote it – all 160,000 words.

And now? Yes, now I urge you to read it. Called Listening to the Silences, it is available free at . Part autobiography, it is chiefly a DIY Manual and textbook for those who hear voices and experience physical presence, and for their carers.

“Hearing Voices” usually implies ‘schizophrenia’ and mental ill-health. My book also describes the many other and positive consequences of this widely misun-derstood phenomenon.

Having read it, perhaps you will join with the others who write –

“First of all, a warm ‘thank you’ for making your remarkable book available free on the Internet,” – Carer.

“Beautifully written.” TV Producer.

“He writes clearly in a way that will probably save someone’s life.” StumbleUpon.

“My son describes it word for word like Roy. He has always said that it is a spiri-tual thing, not a mental illness.” Mother.

“Undoubtedly, many have gone to Ashrams and got better.” Indian Mother.

Having been invaded by malign voices while flying high over the Mediterranean, one lady wrote, “I want to thank you for writing on the Internet about your experiences. I found it to be the only true version of what I feel happened to myself last year. I had been looking for books to read on the subject, but found nothing useful until I came across your account.”

“My name is James Douglas A… (ID 32----) on Georgia, US, Death Row. I hear voices and get physically “abused”/manipulated by unseen, but very real entities I’ll call spirits of good and/or bad intent.”

A Portuguese Film-maker, seeking an interview, wrote, “My goal is to explore a different approach from the psychiatric tradition, to show how people can live with their voices… I was very much impressed with your book. I believe both your life and literature are a truthful account of human experience and should be shared rapidly with a wider public.”

“My name is Al -----, from the Philippines. I just want to share with you some-thing about hearing voices. During college days, I was hooked on drugs. (I graduated marine transportation – merchant mariner.) …until one day I lose control of myself. I heard people in my area gossiping about me which makes me truly change myself into something not me anymore. I heard voices unlike other schizophrenic patients experiencing - those voices told them to kill, burn, electrify themselves. Mine is different; voices I heard knows a lot about my behaviour and attitude. They know my weaknesses… always contradict my movements, actions, speech, even thoughts. So I give up and surrender myself to rehab centre.”
    Having been clear of voices for some time, Al went to sea, but in mid voyage –
“…unluckily voices strike again, so I decide to disembark and go home with shat-tered dreams… and suffering a disease which is still taboo in the Philippines. All I now care is, though I have an abnormal life, I want to be a father to my daughter and a husband to my wife. Now you inspired me a lot.”