City With No Name

First step: to build the better man.
Developed plans that didn’t pan,
left barefoot on barren lands.

Met fate on a broken path to nowhere,
her heart’s beat struck like harp strings
singing for me to go there.

Art: a means for survival,
fools rented out the mind’s tools
for 9 to 5 grind rules.

No satisfaction, mind full of endeavors…
and a net worth of wrecked works,
pens, pads, and records.

The pessimism kept me grounded,
by its sound of loud shout fits
and pound for pound brow hits.

Battling my psyche on the daily.
Walking frailly, scarred-and-battered
by mental games that plagued me.

Soldiered on, with a 1/2 empty cup
fueled on half tank of luck
and half “shut the fuck up!”

With ears covered to the naysayers,
awaiting answers to my prayers
through headphones and a tape player.

Temporary joys in contemporary toys,
a slave to the employed
devoid of voicing my choice.

Distractions impacted actions,
passionate fractions of time
spent in immaculate contraptions.

Blind faith and hope,
kept me choked on a tight rope,
as the rising slope
and balancing act increased in scope.

Music: essential to progress,
the one constant process,
kept me conscious,
when my thoughts slipped.

My soundtrack
composed in raps, bars, and beats…
laughs, arts, and speech
helped me sleep when I was weak.

Cinematic soundscapes
paved the practical landscape,
demands the man made
struck nerves to make my hands shake.

The will to provide kept me driven.
My loved ones livin’,
with smiling faces
and food in the kitchen.

When all is said and done,
no need for a legacy,
just a headstone that
reads “through the struggle, never met defeat.”

Written by hypoetical (circa 2008)

Copyright © hypoetical 2016. All rights reserved.