Cautionary visions visit in viciously vivid fashion
I'm dead and my head is missing
Everyone is laughing
        
                     But me

And the sky is sorta dreary but I don't know
With no eyes you don't see too clearly

      Sew me a new one on,
Attached at the neck
Plastic instead of brittle skin and maybe then
     I can exist in some form above the normally gray and grim

    I pray to a faceless facade
            I made a "God" in my head
An eternal alternative to turn to and blame
   And claim to strangers that he works in mysterious ways
        My lips are chafed from singing unheard praises
  
        I'm tasteless and it has me thinking that maybe my mouth was only a product of my imagination
     Food for thought I chew and stop
           Its too damn hot for contemplation


      Still, I used to think my hands belonged to someone else
     Right up until I used them both to kill myself
  Apr 27 Just Melz
Frank Ruland
I walk a lonely road, the only road that I have ever known

I stopped keeping track of time
somewhere between "goodbye,"
and where we crossed that line


Don't know where it goes, but it's home to me and I walk alone

Everytime, misled--
you'd leave me stranded
and just left for dead


I walk this empty street on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Here, hope just lies around
I think I'll drink this booze
and smash the bottle on the ground



I'm walking down the line that divides me somewhere in my mind

Some days life just sucks
Then some are fine,
but most I don't give a £u¢k


Read between the lines--what's £u¢k€d up and everything's alright

Middle finger to the sky,
cuz I'm stuck between wondering how
and knowing full well why


Check my vital signs and know I'm still alive and I walk alone*

I'll walk till I hit a dead end
then I'll sit awhile
I'll sit awhile
Just awhile
Oh, just until
I know you're not coming, my old friend
Bringing back my "lyrical likeness" style poetry. I break down song lyrics and reimagine them to develop an extra dimension.

Words in bold are lyrics to Green Day's 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams.'

Italicized words are mine.
  Dec 2017 Just Melz
DaSH the Hopeful
And try to light em underneath an ocean's worth of crude oil
      That is forcing it's way into my lungs
            My high hopes hung their heads in the past as they waited to be hanged

               But now the concept of life felt empty and displayed itself as a delay
        A casual lack of oxygen shut off all process in the brain

                 And we are on our way.


~spark~           
                            

                      in the depths
              And the darkness fades to grey,
           **A less ambivalent shade.
  Nov 2017 Just Melz
DaSH the Hopeful
Life is a melody
      You can listen to only once.

    The first thirty seconds, you find the groove,
         it's appealing
    A harmonious rhythm hereto unwritten
                    
       This could be your favorite.


 
             It is.
       For the next three minutes, you settle in.
               The chorus comes around.

          *You'll be here again.

                  It's fresh, it's catchy
You're enraptured by these certain pitches and the words rhyme perfectly.
   One line flowing into the next, the ends justifying the means.
       Another verse, another chorus. This one feels more weathered
          Routine, maybe. You still feel that groove but your perspective of it has been altered by the change in tempo and direction during the last verse.
               

           You realize you have fifteen seconds left.
         This was your song. What did you do with it?


       *As you think back, a gentle blanket of white noise embraces everything that ever was, and your song fades
Let me know how you feel.
  Nov 2017 Just Melz
DaSH the Hopeful
I etched patterns into a tree with a pocket knife that had a red plastic handle
            Indentions such as these never stay
            Yet eternally we press against the world

        Hoping to make a mark that will shine in the daylight and glow in the dark
                    
~

           I'm a shriveled slice of the Americana pie
      With my soul on a swivel and the devil in my eyes


       Life was a son of a b!tch with fists that spat dirt when it spoke
                And it ONLY screamed.
        
        
~

   I'm somewhere between *David Duchovny
and Stephen King
      And I'm trying to rip up manuscripts that I didn't write and I don't know who did.

      
Goodnight America. My patterns will explain my existence more than I ever could.
  Nov 2017 Just Melz
DaSH the Hopeful
Depression has become an insulin injection
       A necessary evil

             Only required because I have been underneath it's moon so long

       Any other tide pull would surely drown me in confusion
  Nov 2017 Just Melz
DaSH the Hopeful
Being interrupted by far off people making exceptionally loud sounds while trying to write poetry is exactly like having a horrible toothache and trying to perform a tracheotomy on a rabid cat.
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