Your eyes tell me all is fine
Instinct tells me otherwise
I leap and cling and tumble
Fall, pretending I can fly.

I reached, but never far enough
I see what vanity has done
And you can hold me all you want
I’m falling down, I’m falling down
I am what you have made me
And this parachute can’t save me
I’m telling you now
It won’t be pretty when I hit the ground.

Falling quick in helpless spin
Razored air is choking me
Caught between the endless rock
And uncertain blue infinity.

Cord is trapped just out of hand
Frantic movements strangle peace
Close my eyes to breathe again
And I know what these moments mean.

I reached, but never far enough
I see what vanity has done
And you can hold me all you want
I’m falling down, I’m falling down
I am what you have made me
And this parachute can’t save me
I’m telling you now
It won’t be pretty when I hit the ground.

The post Never Far Enough appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Just to make it a little easier to swallow, I’ll include a poem for anyone reading.

Greenpeace is street-cleaned
Feet steamed for green beans
Never leave your teeth, please
You can’t skeet, can’t bleat, can’t redeem, can’t delete.

Give me your steel cleat
Dream me your keeled fleet
Zeal won’t believe peace
Peel, wheel, steal, repeat.

The post Satisfying a Debt appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Two people walking
Just missed the light
Cop turns on his lights in front of me
It’s gonna be a slow day

Hug my back bumper
Right turns don’t work
Everyone is a criminal
Where’d that cop go?

New buildings everywhere
Ever changing landscape
Always covered in pavement
My blood pressure is rising

Pedestrians line the boulevard
I did this so I wouldn’t get angry
But this guy in front is being an idiot
I think Marylin Monroe ate here once

I haven’t even reached the highway yet
May God curse that wretched landscape
The palm trees are tall and beautiful
I want to punch every car I see

Stop tapping your brakes
Stop tapping your brakes
This is a highway
You’re a moron

I can run faster than this
It’s like a nightmare
And monsters are Priuses
Don’t let me see your brake lights again

Somehow I made it
The sun isn’t out yet
Maybe I’ll die before 5:30
Birds chirping in the distance.

The post A Simple Ode to the LA Road appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Goodnight, moon! Goodnight, stars!
Goodnight, tiny little planet Mars!

Goodnight birds, and goodnight cows,
Goodnight piggies and your momma sows.

Goodnight vodka! Goodnight rubles!
Goodnight call girl in a codfish two-piece!

Goodnight, Moscow! Goodnight Omsk!
Goodnight Krasnodar, Ufa, and Saratov!

Goodnight Papa! Goodnight Mama!
Goodnight comrade sister and comrade brother!

Goodnight, Mother Russia! To sleep without sorrow
Goodnight, Ukraine! I’ll see you tomorrow!

The post Vladamir Putin’s Goodnight Lullaby appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

You are you for a very good reason
Because you are very good in general
And incredibly strong in particular

I don’t know anyone who could do what you do
As often or as determined as you do
Without ceasing to be, in part or in whole, you

Every step we’ve taken up to his moment
Each day we wake up in a strange and exhausting place
These are pieces of you

Your love for your family always
Your frustration with me nearly as much
These traits create beauty in your soul

Each moment I spend with you reminds me
Your love is undeserved, uncompromising
And nothing I have to offer is worthy

My life does not belong to me
Your key is largest in the door of my being
And as long as I can, I will keep it locked.

The post Unlocked appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Mess up.
Start over.
Try again.

Hit your head.
Fall to the floor.
Kick the bed.
Try again.

Never good enough.
Never satisfied.
Can’t fit in the boxes.
Want to live your life.

Wish you were dead.
Wish you were alive.
Shut up.
You’re a man.
Try again.

Struggle through your life.
Stay quiet, pain is fine.
It’s no one else’s fight.
Alone against the world.
Shoulders strong and wide.
Knees buckle.
Breath stutters.
Fall over.

Get up.
Try again.

Too much.
Too tired.
Too sad.
Too angry.
Too alone.
No one cares.
They have problems too.

Don’t weep.
Punch the wall.
Don’t talk.
Take it all.
“I’m not happy.”
“I’m not sad.”
“I need to think.”

Stay quiet.
Stay alone.
No one talks.
No one listens.

Take a breath.
Clench your fists.
Grit your teeth.
Get pissed.

Stand up.
Start running.
Find a cause.
Fight a battle.

Fight for good.
Protect the weak.
Explore the world.
Love someone.

Be strong for others.
Laugh at danger.
Live with passion.
Die with honor.

Your life belongs to everyone.

The post How to Be a Man appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

My eyes see grey and blurry shapes
My food is bland and tasteless waste
A shower does not warm my soul
But it does help me get more sick, gee thanks.

I cannot use the kitchen sink
The front door handle slips and squeaks
Everything is broken down
The world is ending, I hate my life.

Nothing matters anymore
I slip onto unfeeling floors
Sigh, moan, expect to die
I’ll be a rotting corpse this time tomorrow.

The post A Poem by a Sick Man appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Mainlands travel like stormy seashells.
Big, lively whales calmly pull a sunny, cold breeze.
Love, adventure, and love.
Love is a big mainland.
Stormy, misty captains roughly pull a warm, cold breeze.

– Generated by wlonk.com

Well. We’re getting…close? It’s no Poe, but you can almost hear the rhythm and feel the repetitive, contradictory breeze on your face. Artificial intelligence will one day rule mankind, but for now, we can still make fun of it for turning out crappy poems.

PSA: Keep your vacuum cleaners locked up and don’t let your microwave get too friendly with the washing machine. I’ve seen the brave little toaster. It’s a warning.

The post Artificial Intelligence appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

A smithy can reforge his metal
A mason, his bricks can re-lay
A penman erases his pencil, but
It’s too easy to make
Too many mistakes
When you’re working with paper mâché.

For some, starting over’s expensive
And others would rather complain
I’d rather my art be expressive, but really
It’s too easy to make
So many mistakes
When your whole life is built
On grey crumbly flakes
And the mess of paper mâché.

The post Paper Mâché appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.

Though tempered was my hope, though strong,
It took a quite enlightened spark
To move me back where I belonged;
To set aflame my helm and face.
Then, all my past beliefs were gone,
So providence became my call
And Truth became my song.

Once more, this life had left a mark.
Opinioned once, now shot from grace,
I plunged to ruin in my heart;
No further could one person fall.
I wavered in my desperate arc:
Back towards salvation could I aim,
Yet broken would I thus embark.

No longer could I, proud, abase
Those weaker, who still sin enthralled.
Beneath the crystal sun, I face
The judgment for my pride, the blame,
The endless list, which, while erased,
Cuts to the quick my boastful glare
And leaves the bitterest of tastes.

But on the golden heaven’s stair,
There I find the end of shame.
The King has taken each and all
Who finished last their lifelong race.
With jubilation, angels hark,
Rejoice the day awaited long
When sin admits defeat.

The post Defeat appeared first on Of Psychology and Psychosomatics.