100 Days Project

Ben: 100 Writings / 100 Opening Guitar Hooks

various, random creative expressions / writings, inspired partially by 100 popular songs (songs that somewhat begin with a leading hook of a guitar.)

Day 87:

“Manic Depression” (1967) by the Jimi Hendrix Experience

“Manic Depression” (1967) by the Jimi Hendrix Experience

The second son was a joker
And he always got the chicks
But he kept it all hidden
And jumped off a Bridge: 2006

His family wailed
His friends wept
A horror in genes
From 33 years it slept

The second son was taught
To hold it all in
But obviously became too much
And awoke from within

His girlfriend had said
There were troubles at home
Same thing was said
Of the other girlfriend he boned

He’d talk politics and sport
He’d talk finance and romance
But every now and then
He’d just right stop mid-sentence

His father said it would
Pass in good time
Though it claimed his mother
In 1979

The father didn’t know
What she had hidden
He passed it off
As post natal depression

And through their father’s blindness
They shouldered heavy armour
Just for like their father
With his own Poppa

Little did they know
Hiding beneath
The enemy was already
Under their sheath

The first son was the first
To seek medical assistance
Never told his father
Didn’t want the resistance

He struggled through his life
As a rugby player and lawyer
But through the love of his wife
Both saw the destroyer

He told his brothers
That the disease was inherited
And that in it
Suicide could be unheralded

The second son furious
With his Dad’s lack of empathy
Told his father straight
“This is chemically …

… an illness that we
got from Mum
this whole time
I just thought I was dumb”

It hit Dad
Like Ten Tonne Truck
It all made sense; just like it did
When Shirley stood the Truck

They all had a meeting
At the doctor’s office in Highland
“Major depressive disorder”
….. silence

The first son lay
A schedule to cope
A regime to keep
A beacon of hope

With the doctor’s help
They kept at it
They talked about it
This mattered

They held dinners
Every Sabbath
To talk whether anyone
Had the habit

It all looked shining
It all seemed well
But the second son was trained
To lie to his family as well

The funeral was held
In St Albarn’s in St Alfreds
The suburb where he picked up
Most of his ex girlfriends

The third son told the first
Never ever to lie to him
And to tell him exactly if
His timing was out of rhythm

The wife told the first
Never ever to feel bad
About being honest
Or about being sad

The Dad told them all
How he misread the mother
How he misread their second
How he would hate for there to be another

The third is now a doctor
Dad likes to go fishing
The first is still soliciting
And his wife likes knitting

They’re all doing fine
Struggling each day
But with the memory of the second
It’s okay to say