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Downtown There lives a bundle of nerves Buzzing, with the talk of the day With the half-cooked tales Of the bedridden, bored and fatigued So easily skewered Through his thin-plated armor He merely, wallows in the storm Until the slanderous winds, die down Fight it or fly The former seems foreign So he spears through…
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The lights are on at home But a vagrant is digging through the silence Leaving watchful friends, none the wiser An evil is troubling the stillness Gathering The few scattered scraps of triumph I’ve earned Ever since my silent withdrawal Unaware, of the ghoulish crusade The lights beam on forever Since I’ve tumbled down the…
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His frame of mind is stark Against the blue swathes of summer The well-guarded secret of a cast-iron smile But he pays no regard to his unrest The flames, lashing from within “Never mind, The ever-present ache of your truth” He must forge on Through the far and wide beauty Defying, the fumes The steady…
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What will I become? A peddler of cliched relics? Full of lukewarm sonnets That will fade unreceived? Where must I stall? At some worn-down peak Where the whole world has stormed Before, I’ve even set out to climb? Dried out A defeatist And far from recognition Friends and foes Will take to the streets In…
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Falling from the firing line The drums trail away With thunderous ideals And short-lived dreams
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I find only blessings In the rippling of sorrow An array of hard lessons learned Seared deep into my hide I’ve come to know every inch of the wild That quakes, with all manner Of maddening beasts But I’m no longer shaken I stray on with welcoming arms For in truth Misfortune is the guide…
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Welcome to your sun-dried prison To being torched out of reason To angrily smoldering In the binds of your flesh Welcome To the restless hordes Of all of your twisted and villainous thoughts Welcome To the shapeless blotches of sweat To the endless retching In the swill, of your acrid fumes Farewell to the spring…
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Skylines, may rise and fall over time But the agony and the rapture Remains the same In every sonnet
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If only I were a grain of sand In the hearts of blood-kin Unknown, for all time I’d brave every storm that sweeps me along, Leaving me stranded And parched for my crimes If only I starved for a scrap of their concern But their love freely teems Undeserved and pure
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The fuse Has ashed away Long past all the raving The berating Of my flesh and blood There are rivers of red Interwoven, across my back And I’ve dug them all myself In great flourishes of anger So few are unscathed As my words Rip through serenity In blinding, flashes of white From here on…
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