A stone’s throw from the city centre, closeted in a recording studio, a lovely mix of people have gathered to discuss and debate an issue that has long been side-lined. Mental Health, my friends, are two words that strike fear into the heart of us – but why do they have that affect? We wouldn’t hesitate to visit the doctor/hospital should we suffer a broken arm or a chest infection, so why should a damaged mind be looked upon as something alien? The same care and attention should be available for our whole body, the brain as a vital organ and surely it requires rest and rejuvenation too.
When your mind doesn’t function to its full capacity, it is debilitating and isolating, to say the least, some see it as embarrassing to have such a condition. As always, we have the ‘pull yourself together’ brigade, not the right attitude I hasten to add.
Here at UPRAWR a charity has been launched to raise awareness and garner support for a most noble and worthy cause. As the UK plunges into a nightmarish downward spiral of cutbacks across all sectors, we need to help each other to repair a broken society, one step at a time. Confidence, courage and strength come from within, and they can only work to their full effect if people are listened to, cared for and treated adequately.
The heavy metal community has lived and evolved on the fringes of society, and despite the ridicule, the stares, the mockery, here we stand united and defiant in our endeavours to combat mental illness.
It is time to talk, folks, it is time to engage with each other and tackle this beast head on. The foundation will be looking to raise funds through various events in the future, please go to www.uprawrfoundation.org for more information.
Let’s get in the ring, my friends and give stigma the middle finger!
Spoken word piece by Azra Pathan
Margins
Step inside
Marginalised,
See the world from my eyes.
The eyes of regret,
The eyes of shame
The eyes of the affected
But I won’t say the name,
Crackers, nuts
Stuck in a rut,
And mental as fuck.
Your mind, not of my kind
But your story is not too far from mine.
Who set the margins to frame my picture?
Who is the alchemist who prescribed my tincture?
I drank deeply from the poisoned chalice
Walked soullessly in dreams with Alice,
In desperate need of a second chance
Don’t show me that looking glass.
Not just yet, I’m not prepared
To show what I cannot share.
My glass is always half empty,
My six-pack is never complete
I’ll gather up, this picnic rug
And throw it into the sea.
Always loopy, the last in line
Fighting this lost cause of mine,
A jigsaw with most pieces missing
If you can’t help, just get in the bin.
I don’t need your demons
I’ve got plenty of my own,
I don’t need to fight on foreign lands
My battles are home grown.
My stars are never aligned
Speaking in tongues, my tongue is tied,
Can’t find the words for my condition
Makes me the suspect under suspicion.
The Hatter, The March Hare, all crazy cats
Dysfunctional, disconnected, wired to the max.
I need Uprawr to roar for me,
To open up the door for me,
To heal the wounds so sore for me,
I can’t take no more of me.
I’m the headcase in a basket you’ll never know
Too hot to touch, too cold to show
The shivers, the shakes
The pains, the aches,
Sit at my table,
Try a piece of my fruitcake.
Azra Pathan © 2019 For UPRAWR Mental Health Foundation