it’s hard to look
at what our image has become,
withering compassion
and torn-up roses.
the world watches in shock and awe
at the gilded embarrassment.
it’s hard to hold a mirror
to our own shadow
and see the age lines and wrinkles
that show not wisdom
but rather folly.
instead of honest self-reflection,
we build a ballroom.
the emperor is already naked
and half the people cheer
as if it’s some kind of dignity.
i’ll never understand.
A couple of days ago, I wrote a weird poem. It had some of the following elements:
The poem was very short. That first poem led me to write an entire series of similar poems. I did some research to discover that I was writing “glitch poetry.” It also might fall into categories like anti-poetry and cyber punk.
Topics include technology, government, news, social media, sex, addiction; the individual struggle to not get lost in today’s overstimulated world.
Here’s short description of the 28-poem cycle I’ve completed:
I believe that error is the only honest data left in a manicured cis-stem. My lyrics are not typos; they are the intentional ruptures of a soul that refuses to be domestic-8ed by the algorithm. I invite the brave soles to stop scrolling, ignore the deaf socials, and enjoy the hum of a reality that is truly {RE}moved.
The project is still in the works. While I have completed the sequence, there is still editing and formatting that needs to be done.
The project started when I was studying how one might actually make a profit writing poetry. I hope you’re not laughing too loud. What I discovered is that the way one might make money as a poet is to create a brand and a specific identity behind that brand. That is what I did. Actually marketing and selling that brand is the trick. I’ve never cracked that code.
In the process, I’ve secured the website: glitcsh.com. The purposeful misspelling is part of the concept. My identity as the creator is not Dan Steven Erickson, but simply: POET. Because I could be anybody trying to survive in a world in which systems are stacked against us. The POET is the superhero, so to speak. The resolve is not to fight evil, but to simply walk away from it all, and in the end, to reduce the ego.
I have not decided when/if I will start the “Glitcsh” site and brand. Currently, my website hosting plan only allows for a single site. I either have to upgrade or return to a cheaper option.
I could start the series on this site, and I might. For now, simply stay tuned as I continue to work on the poems and make decisions on how to present them. – dse
I know this site is supposed to be about songwriting and poetry and music. But we can’t ignore the elephant in the room. The world is in a state of chaos. I suppose it’s always had an element of that, but right now it seems particularly more fucked up than I’ve ever seen it. So why is the world so messed up?
If I had the answer, I might be able to fix it. I don’t, but I can take a pretty good guess in a single word.
Greed.
I suppose hate is a close tie.
But rather than give you a definitive answer, I’d like to give you my personal solution on how to deal with the daily stress of it all.
It’s true. The world seems to be in a state of constant turmoil in which I’ve never seen in my lifetime. Every day we get hit in the face with more bad news. It’s constant. It’s almost like Chinese water torture, a long, slow, and constant drip. There’s really not much we can do about the big issues, but get involved and we can vote. We can also do things to help save our own sanity.
There it is. My solution. Write.
There are other things you can do. You can meditate, walk, run, hike, read, bike, fish, or just about anything else that helps you to cope positively. For me, writing is the best therapy during the most stressful times. Why is that?
Unlike exercise, meditation, and reading, writing allows us to process our thoughts and feelings in an active and present way. It also allows us to vent. Some of my most angry and raw lyrics have been written during our most treacherous times.
So, if you’re struggling with stress and anxiety during what seems to be some of the most fucked up times in the last 60 years, write about it. Express yourself.
I might not have the answer to the big question, why is this world so messed up? But I do have a personal solution to help you stay as sane as possible during these times.
Write. – dse
I’m not going to go into any detail but my life has been a bit trying lately. Between some personal issues and some complications my daughter is facing, the last few weeks have been stressful and chaotic. I guess it’s a good thing I retired because it’s nearly a full-time job.
Hopefully, this chaotic season will pass. Our move to Maine is currently uncertain after months of planning. It might be delayed. So, how do I deal with all the stress? I write. I write about things that are happening in real time. Later, I will choose a portion of those lyrics to edit, fine tune, and put to music.
In the past month, I have written 40-50 new potential lyrics. I’ve also written several personal and professional letters. (That’s a different story.) I want to focus on the lyrics for this short essay.
Writing songs is great catharsis. It can help you to vent immediate anger, despair, and sorrow. It can also help you to understand there is always hope, joy, and possibility. I’ve come to realize that even when the shit is heavy, writing releases some of the weight and provides me with a map moving forward.
I’m not going to post lyrics here but I’ll include a list of recent titles.
Many of the lyrics I’ve written in the last month are done in a free-flowing, almost rap-like form. But there are some pure country lyrics and thoughtful folk/pop pieces in the mix.
I don’t know if or when some of these will be put to music. I currently have 235 lyrics in my 2025/26 folder. Some have been put to music, but the majority are waiting. I do know that there will be a day when musical ideas and arrangements will flow as quickly as the lyrics came these last few weeks. That’s how I work.
So, no promises, but stay tuned for something new. – dse
On my way to the grocer on a rainy saturday in a strange town somewhere near montgomery someone at an intersection asked me for directions to a church on birch street where they had to meet their people for a funeral
I said i’m sorry for your loss because i’ve borne that cross and i wish i could help but i’m a stranger here myself and i’m a little bit lost and confused about where i am, man
Yeah, i’m just passing through
I’m just passing through
I’m trying to get to my home back up north where i used to live but i got waylaid by things i can’t control that hurt my soul so i stayed and i prayed
I’m just passing through
That i might understand what this world is trying to tell me and sell me and if there’s a god and if he befell me because i’m sure hell ain’t real and i question heaven too
Yeah, i’m just passing through
You know sometimes i wake up in the night and something don’t feel right like there’s an eminent threat remnant of my childhood with sinister characters up to no good taking liberties to appease themselves by creating others’ miseries
And i’ve tried so hard in this life to be a man and i had a wife and we had a daughter that didn’t make it and another one that i’ve had to fight to protect through abuse and neglect and it scares me to leave her alone but i know someday i will, it’s true
Because i’m just passing through
I’m just passing through
God i get so tired of all the bullshit i see going on around me and i want to be free from the drama and the trauma delivered by people in power getting worse by the hour
I’m just passing through
And i wonder if there’s really something on the other side, a place to reside where there’s just a little more peace and no beasts or burdens or heartbreak making me blue
Yeah, i’m just passing through
I’m trying to get to the other side
There’s gotta be something better
I ain’t ready for my own funeral
But i need a change of weather
So i got to the store and i bought a few things to get me by a few days because you never know when the whole thing’s gonna blow and you’ll just slip away into the unknown and maybe that’s home or maybe it’s not but right now the here and now is all i’ve got so i’ll make the best of it yeah, that’s what i’ll do
Because i’m just passing through
I’m just passing through
And lord knows there’s a reason that i’ve spent all my seasons doing best i could and i might not be perfect but i’ve tried to be good and i’ve believed even when the christians turned away
I’m just passing through
So if i die tonight i hope i might find the corridor to another place with lots of space and another level where everybody ain’t in my face for every little thing i do
I’m just passing through
I’m trying to get to the other side
Yeah, i’m just passing through
There’s gotta be something better
Huh, i’m just passing through
I ain’t ready for my own funeral
I’m just passing though
But we need a change of weather
Yeah, i’m just passing through
Words Copyright 2026 by Dan Steven Erickson
i saw your aunt Minerva
last night in a dream
she was walking through an airport
or somewhere in the in-between
it may have been a blessing
it may have been a curse
considering the history
i don’t know which is worse
she wore some kind of bonnet
her body small and frail
i caught her squinting eyes
behind a see-through veil
she walked directly toward me
i neither hoped nor feared
i felt a sense of dispensation
and then she simply disappeared
i saw your aunt Minerva
i never knew her well
but I know she knew the secret
that your mother will not tell
of horrors that went unspoken
of boundaries that were broken
of shrieks in bedrooms
and ancient heirlooms
of Egyptian spells
and living hells
i saw your aunt Minerva
last night in a dream
she was walking through an airport
or somewhere in the in-between