Someone Else’s Drummer

Someone Else’s Drummer

I saw my shrink today
and pronounced myself cured
I came home tonight
understanding what that meant

Cured of trying to REASON you out of my thoughts
Cured of believing I’ll ever stop caring
Cured of the hope – even the dream
That someday we’ll find a way

Gone is the hope
But not the yearning
My dream has faded
while desire grows and need persists

And so the struggle continues,
once more behind a mocking mask
projecting rational thoughts,
trying to fool the world.

How many of us
live our lives pretending,
marching to the beat
of someone else’s drummer?

Zombieland

Zombieland isn’t half as bad as reputation alludes

The place I have in mind is a mindless boring pit

but looking better by the day

half way there by lunch tomorrow

No more crying jags that last 2 hours

No more disappointments, no more slammed doors

No more ambushed dreams

 

Just a numbing inertia- driven tub of dulled

nerve endings shrouded by molasses thick apathy.

Sight dimmed by dusty cobwebs.

Ears tuned to the ordinary.

Thoughts never straying to dangerous places.

Hopes abandoned.

Sweet thoughts erased.

 

Last flicker dimmed deprived of air

choking on truth afflicted with blindness

what is real, what is imagined

matters not when all is gone forever

many painful losses should have paved the way

for this most hurtful time of all

Abandoned, lost, no more trust to give.

 

Cruel irony played a trick

when blindsided by a passion

never dreamed of feeling

Whimsical fates intervened

upending my ordered world

adding unanswered longings to a

newly wakened sensibility

 

So my friend you see that

Zombieland is meant for one like me

a perfect fit for an imperfect heart

that lost direction while seeking nothing at all.

that lost her mind to the riddles never solved

and handed her soul to a stranger.

now waiting for oblivion.

 

A redo from 2012 

Zombieland

Zombieland isn’t half as bad as reputation alludes

The place I have in mind is a mindless boring pit

but looking better by the day

half way there by lunch tomorrow

No more crying jags that last 2 hours

No more disappointments, no more slammed doors

No more ambushed dreams

 

Just a numbing inertia- driven tub of dulled

nerve endings shrouded by molasses thick apathy.

Sight dimmed by dusty cobwebs.

Ears tuned to the ordinary.

Thoughts never straying to dangerous places.

Hopes abandoned.

Sweet thoughts erased.

 

Last flicker dimmed deprived of air

choking on truth afflicted with blindness

what is real, what is imagined

matters not when all is gone forever

many painful losses should have paved the way

for this most hurtful time of all

Abandoned, lost, no more trust to give.

 

Cruel irony played a trick

when blindsided by a passion

never dreamed of feeling

Whimsical fates intervened

upending my ordered world

adding unanswered longings to a

newly wakened sensibility

 

So my friend you see that

Zombieland is meant for one like me

a perfect fit for an imperfect heart

that lost direction while seeking nothing at all.

that lost her mind to the riddles never solved

and handed her soul to a stranger.

now waiting for oblivion.