Words are worn out
till we repolish
to repeat anew.

I went to see a Magician
He asked me why I came
I told him that I need a disappearing act
And could he help out a hapless man

With a snap of the fingers
Or a wave of the wand
Roll up his sleeves to revel nothing
Then all of the sudden, ****!... I'm gone

Running from a woman
That and the IRS
Not really sure, which scares me more
Not placing my bets on that craziness

I see no other options
Either that or sawed in half
When there's two of me, they can each
Have what little there is left

Or maybe lock me up in a three-lock box
Toss me in the ocean deep
Either way would be okay
If that's the last they see of me

So please Mr. Magician
Can I make myself any clearer
I'll take what I can of your Abracadab
If you'll just help me disappear from here

Our needs are boundless -
our wounds sensitive -
better not to bare them
- lest we invite opinion,
debate and comparison,
or worse yet, sympathy (euuww).
.
.
Songs for this..
Musta Been A Ghost by Próxima Parada
Everything goes my way by Metronomy
If You’re Too shy (Let me know) - Edit by The 1975

I'm yet to feel my age,
All I feel is burning rage
with inflation comes reducing wage
As I figure through all my problems,
there is no permanent solution
but with every fix
there is a new mountain ready
To envelope me.

When it’s my turn to be reaped
- as I know it someday will be
- let my final, earthly verse be poetry.
Let the vast heavens weep,
may my wake not be cheap,
and peace be upon my coterie.

By his side, the devout chant God's glory
in a life so brittle and fragile
yet not lacking in strength to navigate
on the river of chaotic turbulence.

Some are tearlessly silent,
a few are about to embrace a cry
and there is one whose wails
reverberate and pound the walls.

The ascent to the greater kingdom
is adorned with white lotus
and incense that smell of heaven.

Filled with the finality
there is no point denying,
the atheist sleeps on peacefully.

Stroll with me under the trees
to where the old road bends,
at the hanging sycamores
then walk away
beyond my sight
for I cannot follow
do not turn back,
you have many miles to go
and new companions to meet
I will wait here, in the shade
tired feet need to rest
visit me now and again
when the leaves fall
but only in memory
walk on

2 Poets of the same ilk
Coming together, head-to-head
Knowing it's surely God's will
Setting to rhyme, what needs to be said

2 Poets in control of the pen
Easily slipping into the flow
Both with an idea here to lend
No telling in which direction they'll go

2 Poets with a strong bond
A chance meeting, out of the blue
Where magic happens, like waving a wand
You feeding off me, me feeding off you

2 Poets coming together
With a strong desire for the truth
A fact of the matter, friends forever
After all, it's what families do

-Maddison Colman
-Mike Hauser