What a Waste

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There is only static
In the haze of their words
Like the front lines of old
They grow weathered, and die

To come alive in sleep
To bury each dawn in the ashes
An impossible, refrain to shake

Now a mist rolls along
Through life’s precious joys
Ensnaring the many
In sloth and well-wishes for death

There is only the static
Of words gone by
So wastefully exchanged
For a morsel of clout

Spoiling the Day

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Every bridge disbands in the surf
For I’ve torn out their screws
And I’ve kicked away their limbs

For I bring about misery this day
With a mind in revolt
As a lone hijacker of the moments
Once gracious and calm

I fuel the decay
From the haze of my wants and woes
At the lash of disorder

Overrun
With the suffering I’ve forged
From ivory and gold
In the bitter-cold lows
Of myself

Feeding these Ireful Times

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We’ve heard
But we hardly know
We speak, enraged
Never stalling to breathe

‘Till we strain for a wisp
In the upswell of anger
No mercy in our words

For our fellow man’s a fool
Who couldn’t possibly know

We cascade like dams
In a thunderous decline
And surge with distress
With venom and vile

The Eternally Deceived

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Nothing will bring him back
From the war-scarred hills
Where he’s ground to a pulp
Each night

His widened world of hopes
Set sail long ago
For the terror of shrapnel
That claws at his mind

Every traveler deceives
In his scouring eyes
As he roams to the brink
And a fearsome descent

Drowning Madness

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Life draws to a generous halt
In the effortless crash
That cradles
And drowns all the mad

All the sorrow
That preys in the silence
Is doomed to the waves
A refrain that kills, and cures

Trudging ashore
I am granted new life
The untiring
Vigor of youth

Forever embraced on land
By the furious thrash
Of a pause
In the ireful waves

 

 

William Wright

The Slums of Nightfall is a collection of poetry that covers a wide range of topics. Most of the poems revolve around the subject of mental health, specifically the author’s ongoing struggle with anxiety and depression. The book is not about a literal slum. It is about a state of mind a person can reach, when they lie awake at night, contemplating the world around them. It is about the wee hours of the morning, when your home has fallen silent and you are left to be wide awake with your memories. Each poem is a part of larger story; a story about wrestling with your fears and insecurities, and the slow and gradually journey toward loving and accepting yourself. You can find this collection on Amazon  and Createspace.

A Helpless Thrash

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A soldier fades to black
Consumed by himself
By the fall of mankind

Forever unfazed
By the whistling bombs
The machine guns glowing
And hot with revenge

Nothing lives in his eyes
Through the quake of the ground
As he drowses in fear
Coming to, in the dark
In the void of himself

With no voice to scream
No thunder, no light
He is raised to the depths
To a quieted thrash

Perception

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Perhaps
I am reeling
And wallowing inside
Displaced, from a safe patch of ground

Or I’m purposely unbound
With a great fear of rotting
As a rust-cradled ship
On the shores of death

Perhaps I foam
And I reek of peril
As the bombs fall in mind
A whistle, then a crash
Then fire, then dust

Or perhaps
I am fully composed
And clothed in pretension
Ever-coursing
With smugness and pride

Or perhaps it’s a dream
But a blistering relief
That showers the frantic
And frees the dismayed
From their shackles of sleep

Until Agony is Far Too Great – Author William Wright, Jr.

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Creative Talents Unleashed

Until

My insides are swollen

Bursting at the seams

With the world’s

Most fearsome song

Until I have my fill

Of trolley car anthems

Brimmed

With heartless passersby

Until my eardrums

Quake from the throes

Of bygone

Thundering ghosts

Until the agony

Prevails, over all

I’ll siphon the world

And its crude

And callous resolve

© William Wright, Jr.

William Wright

Excerpt from the book “The Slums of Nightfall”


William Wright About the Author

 My name is William Lorenzo Wright, Jr. I am the youngest of three children, as well as the only son to two loving and hard-working parents. I am a college student from San Diego California and I hold a deep passion for reading and writing poetry. I was sixteen years old when I first fell in love with poetry and I have been faithful to the craft ever since.

Visit William’s Author Page At: www.ctupublishinggroup.com/william-wright–jr.-.html

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