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Stagnation will murder These coveted words When the walls of my world Endeavor, for the skies I am destined to drown In the noise of affection Driven from myself As a wavering shell In the burst of cruel words I’ll depart from my own As I quietly shrink And subside with ease Remorseful and starved…
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A failure, flames red hot On a scorned patch of ground Charred, beyond hope For miles There are smoldering remains Which bleed me of strength Of life, compassion and love From the pale-blue skies It charged For the bowels of the earth Overcome, and burdened with death When humility was lost From the heart Of…
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These days become gristle and bone With little to offer This aimless and wavering soul I yearn for the flesh of old times What I gorged without hunger Shoveling and stoking The hearth of my greed I was always in bound For some generous feast From moment to moment Until exhaustion was king
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Ignition awaits At some distant hour When I’m suddenly overcome And quaking with life When my worries grow starved And my head has been ground Into a weary daze When the airborne salvos Have fallen To a hateful flare of red When all emotions Are restless And feral
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From afar The fires are immense A plentiful rage That savors mankind From the fairest of ground I see only villains Who pillage and kill In their flight from remorse From this heavenly perch I see only waves of dismay The farther, I sway in retreat From nothing and nowhere All these worries of the…
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Idle time Inhales, all the strengths I brandish from dawn And dispassion is swift A sinful and sickening Demise of the mind A self-imposed death By wallowing And fuming ’til sunk Time is unfazed By my flailing And faltering aims By each whimpering hope That stalls In this swamp
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Who will yearn for these years For the oil slicked seas And the slow, hateful burn of mankind? The sorrowful seeds Who will flourish by dawn Will they fervently dream Of this era long past? And what will we share With tomorrow’s new travelers? In their voyage through the lands That we’ve carved and defamed?…
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Under heel I am not much, But the mangled earth That remains In the great strides of men No mind No train of emotions No hopes to ascend To dream, to conceive, to command There are no roots In this bad patch of earth No purposeful seeds to sprout And embrace the foul world Torn…
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Disapproval Gnaws at my hide In the clutches of night As they prod the remains I have strewn Through the day I burn and I dive Alight with the worry Of a world of false notions Perhaps I have fallen Painfully short Of the prosperous son My former and shed away skin Perhaps I’ve prevailed…
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