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Home hardly radiates the same Once its doors shoot open And the warmth of the past Is lost For I’ve chased away the sense of refuge It now rings ill and faded As I dream and drowse in its binds, In motionless spite The night cries out With a furious wisp of welcome Howling for…
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I am here, then I am lost From the corners of your eyes Without a word, worth passing along I am here for your seconds of blame When the spine-crushing weight of the world Leaves you passionless and dead But I become rising smoke When you’re warm in your bed And “What more do I…
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I’ll be the same as always When midnight rolls around As a semi-auto burst, And a hail of shell-casings When this city foams mad At a New Year’s toast Of good health and great fortune I will cling to the hem of old ways The frayed sense of comfort Which will leave me, rotting in…
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A city overruns these hills Where I’ve sheltered my grief My long walks with sorrow Soon the anthems of myself are lost In the rhythmic pulse of mankind Yearning, to resurface The city engulfs an old world Where thoughts once flowed and flourished Never knowing, the wrath of the drain The city unfolds all around…
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Weary old friends fall apart As the proudest example Of lives, well-lived For their tormented miles of earth and sky Where the winds wage war They expect no reward So they fade full and glad With the flutter of the past Kept alive and well
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How am I so short on well-being? My paths are endless Full of wonder and coursing with life But how can I be so smug? I’ve beheld so little As my time, overflows into the dirt How can I think to withdraw? The very best and the worst of this world Remains unknown
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The holidays mope around Like large villainous clouds Voyaging, to snuff out the sun The pressing deeds of the mind Become slothful worms Being ushered along, by their minuscule needs There is hardly movement In the drawn out moments Of faultless ease When no hour is too late And dreams, grow bold and broad By…
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Some are battling shadows at this hour When the world is still No matter, the scale of its horrors The past, it rumbles and shouts In the most sacred moments When kin, are all woven together Some are taken With their scurrying transgressions When the soul must be tranquil, Joyous and light But something, somewhere…
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When the engine revs to life And the empty road swallows The weeks and the months I will flourish with the joys, of the awestruck past
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