the poet sits
on a simple throne
made of stone
for you he waits
he waits for no one
you are no one
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Category: Poems
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carved of stone
Posted at 9:12 am , on July 9, 2021
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Shedding
Posted at 9:43 am , on June 9, 2021
oh how I long to shed
this absurd
existence
like a dessicated corpse
swaddled in cloth
to tear free from
and scream from
the start to the end -
Diet Cola
Posted at 7:49 am , on April 22, 2021
the clanging is louder
it keeps coming closer
on rickety rails
like an old rollercoaster
i’m supposed to remember
my cup runneth over
it’s not filled with riches
but just diet cola -
Beyond the Wall
Posted at 6:18 am , on March 26, 2021
i see major
things dream
major things
make wagers
forget faces
like time
wastes us
away
case of
delay
traces
the way
makes us
the way
we are
the stuff
from stars
the dust
from stars
the rust
on cars
the rust
on tins
and jars
shattered like scars
shattered like dreams
broken like kings
broken like wings
on birds that fall
beyond the wall -
Little Conquest
Posted at 7:12 am , on January 6, 2021
pain and darkness
tremble in the middle of this
little conquest -
Meandering Wastes – Memory Recursion 1
Posted at 8:00 am , on December 17, 2020
Across the dusty, distant wastes,
The writer sets a meandering pace,
Scratching words with fountain pen,
He creates reality again. -
It Is Yours
Posted at 1:29 pm , on November 20, 2020
Do you ever feel like…
You are dying inside?
Do you ever feel like…
You’ve got something to hide?
Do you ever feel like…
That for every door open,
You can still hear the sound,
Of another ten closing,
And everything’s closing in on you now,
The whole room is shrinking,
And about your mistakes is all that you’re thinking about,
And you’re mired,
In each bad decision,
The air crushed from your lungs,
But you are still living–
You’re living!
And you feel that the pressure is easing,
Push the walls back,
With this power you’re feeling,
And dreaming,
Of bursting out,
Thirsting out,
For something more:
It is yours.
It is yours. -
Magenta Weirdness
Posted at 4:58 pm , on October 8, 2020
Both Deny Fear,
Aged Remnants Wise,
Aware in Regret,
Ache Like Pasts,
Dig Scratch Sworn,
Hewn Infant Utopia,
Headline Hence Whens,
Again Shatter.Anagrammatical interpretation of Meandering Wastes – First Reversion .
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Grand Game
Posted at 9:01 am , on September 23, 2020
Right now the Grand Game’s being played,
But I’m tired of making patterns out of shadows I’ve made,
And I’m tired of seeking secrets when the truth is so plain,
And I’ve heard the plain is where the rain falls mainly in Spain,
So I’ll try to educate you ’bout the state of my brain,
I know I might seem kind of crazy but I’m far from insane,
On the inside I am levitating on another plane. -
Everything Will Fall
Posted at 9:51 am , on August 18, 2020
The man contemplates the drink,
The shadow contemplates the man,
The wall contemplates the shadow,
The wind contemplates the wall,
And if the wind blows hard enough,
Everything will fall.
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