In a Dead Man's Shoes

Posted here because Live Journal is becoming more and more of a pain to log in to every year, and I would rather write the poem in the wrong place than not at all.

In A Dead Man's Shoes
By Emmit Other

The Rhombus Trick
Is really more necessary than my nonchalance appears
I was done
Burned out
More than a multi month recovery
The kind that takes a decade
Maybe more
From which one might recover
But I have seen the killing of a brilliant gentle soul
I have the painting no one else wants
Or cared about
But it has an audience of one
Of a mother's love of her son
Frozen in time
Before mammon and El conspired
To crush a dream
The poet in me thrives
Because I don't give a fuck what you think of me
These words are mine
And you are welcome to them
Freely given
Freely written
But with prose there are Expectations
Of a lever great enough to change the world
Even to move the world just a little bit
Off of the rodeo traintrack of self deceiving doom.
But writing is that balance
Between delusion that you can win
And self awareness that you need to polish the turd
Until it shines
But after the GMVZ8pt2
There was no shine left in the can
The sham show was what it was
So understand folks
Rhombus is as real as he needs to be
To keep the parade party started
Because the alternative
Is a life of service to something
That couldn't care less if you live or die
And spawn that mostly go through the motions
I will not fade gray or die away
I shall sparkle on wondercuss
Half of the legitimate ones are phonies anyway.
I am in plenty good company to keep.
March on dented sqaure.
March on.