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This song is shit

Busted

Broken,

Shattered

Damaged…

Call it what you want to,

It all becomes so easily unmanaged.

 

The strength and courage is slain

validating the damage that cannot be undone,

pummeled like an orchid in a torrent rain

or bent out of shape, a vinyl record left in the sun.

 

You can certainly attempt to forgive

but in no way, will or can you forget,

all in all for as long as you may live

forever twisted like a radio-eaten cassette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Am I am… is I am?

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Here we go with the same old shit

DamnIT, I thought I was done with it,

Tired again, and yet looking for more

From where or for what? I am not sure.

Once again my ideas are cloudy and shaded

my love of everything has somewhat faded,

This manic thinking draws out the stress

there’s no worse feeling than that, of a total mess.

Just when you think everything is all in its place

that neat package of bullshit blows up in your face.

I underestimate how manipulative and strikingly strong

why bother fighting? Much easier to just play along,

The more I try to control those big voices inside

the more they resist, defy and begin to collide.

A complete waste of time, is building a defense

made up of lies and a cocktail of antidepressants,

As much as I attempt to change who I am,

I am reminded that I am, who I am, and that’s all I am really am…. huh?

 

 

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Too little, two face

Too little, two face

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You must lie in the bed, that you have made?

Maybe that’s why I always slept on the couch.

Made it easier to go, as I had never stayed,

ask any of my Ex’s and they’ll bitterly vouch.

There was never a need, to even kick off my boots,

before the sun could rise, I was out the back door.

Never gave enough time to plant my own roots,

treated love as a dried up flower, I never cared for.

The more they would hold on, to a precious moment,

the harder I would work, to erase it completely.

Beating you down like an unworthy opponent,

after tears run dry, you’ll wish you didn’t meet me.

As cliche’ as it is, the saying goes, “too little, too late”

It doesn’t even matter that I am different now.

It just wasn’t meant to be, thank goodness for fate,

in a way, I helped you, if you can believe that somehow.

As we all take the bad, which outweighs the good,

no matter how good the good was, it is completely forgotten.

I can repaint the trash, even convert to the priesthood,

in the end, the truth is, this boy was downright rotten.

 
19 Comments

Posted by on April 26, 2018 in love, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

 

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Hey Doc, Help?

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One med

Two med

Red med

Blue med

Now I need

another

just to help me

get to bed.

“Doc, I feel like someone else”

“Well then take one of these.

Just make sure to leave your co-pay

with the receptionist, before you leave.”

Up all night, wondering what to say

I cannot get to sleep and I’m tired all day.

One med

Two med

Red med

Blue med

Now I need

another

just to help me

get to bed.

“Hey Doc! I can’t sleep!”

“Well than take one of these.

Remember to stop by the front desk

so I can make payroll Please”

Have to get up, and go to work today,

couldn’t fall sleep if I stayed home anyway.

One med

Two med

Red med

Blue med

Now I need

another

just to help me

get to bed.

“Yo DOC!!!

F@#K YOU bro!”

 
 

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easier than words

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Brush to the oil paint,

color to the canvas

gracefully and magically

making emptiness vanish.

The visions in the mind

manufacturing begins,

regurgitation of essence

spewing out from within.

The undoubted magic

materializes a bit later,

transformation of imagination

like an artistic translator.

The passion and ability

to make brilliance emerge,

from the mind to the hand

I am a conduit for the surge.

To try an explain what I see

I wouldn’t have the first clue,

It’s easier to piece it together

and then just show it to you.

 

 

 

 

 
18 Comments

Posted by on April 1, 2018 in art, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

 

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“Signs point to Yes!”

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Well I struck out big time

called a swing and a miss,

I read that play all wrong,

she didn’t want that kiss.

Asked God to give me a sign

some advice on this courtship,

he dropped the damn ball again

That’s it! He’s getting a pink slip.

Like, for real dude? Come on.

It was an easy fifty-fifty call,

I wouldn’t have pegged ya for

a believer in a Magic Eight-ball!

I know you think I’m being silly

’cause she doesn’t want to be mine,

but I wasted our entire friendship

not to mention both of our time.

She is the one who is missing out,

I’m the best guy she has ever known,

yet I’m alone sitting home blaming God,

for the chance that I have single-handedly blown.

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 1, 2018 in poetry, Uncategorized, writing

 

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Satan called me spineless

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Hypnotized by the alluring midnight black flowing hair

mimicking the curtains blowing in the ocean’s breath,

I’ve never had such a beautiful image of Satan

as I do right now, as I compose the symphony of my death.

I’m not someone who fancies the ideologies of satanism,

though he is who lurks when I am looking for a friend,

why wouldn’t you want to talk to someone with expertise

in constructing a scene as melodramatic as your end?

It’s not like I have a poor sense of direction or imagination,

it’s just that I get so fixated on the methods that I do NOT like,

for instance, stoning or drowning in a pool filled with sharks,

not fond of guns, asphyxiation or stabbing with a spike.

I tend to obsess over the things that I don’t want to happen

instead of making happen the dreams that I wish,

I’d just hate to have to come to grips with growing soft inside

I wouldn’t want to be remembered as a spineless jellyfish.

 

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 
 

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