Counterfeit Courage

In vibrant shades
In watercolored neon arrays

I trail through assured
Swollen with pride
With restless triumph

Swamped with sound
I blare
As the scourge and envy
Of melodic hearts

Not bound
By any stern
Unwavering path

For I dwell
Beyond shackles
In an instant
Of wine-bred rapture


The Tragedy We Share

She dissolves
Into a shapeless
Pool of treasured

Mirroring the havoc
I’ve preserved
In the maddening spiral
Of despair

Vapor retains
The mournful call
Of her amorphous song

Her endless screams
The sorrows I purge
Into nightfall’s
Deathly chasm

Consigned to peace
I am left to stir
Never driven to want
To urge
For hollow words


Thundering Daybreak

The shorelines basked
In new-found shades
Of scornful, menacing red

A gift
From the thundering morn
Sulfury, callous, and shrill

How the high winds swore
Brazen and cold
In the throes
Of each death-bound
Pitiful scream

At the fearful weave of men
Through hellish clouds
Risen, in murderous fury

The shorelines gushed
In streams of black
Steady,  heartless, and sure

A gift for the tides
Swollen with slaughter
By the full bloom
Of mayhem and strife


The Same Old Loathsome Song

I writhe engulfed
In pulsating squalor
Fever-brimmed and weak
And bathed in rivers of panic

Amid cool crimson streams
Coloring my eyes
In bloodshot distress

Nothing is spawned
From my quivering hysteria
As I’m drained of heart
And  precious resolve

Left to stir
To the offbeat horror
Stewing with worry
In lifelong remorse


A Demise Fit for Thieves

We’ve bred these tortured winds
Each troubled wave
Colored, by the fumes
Of our time

Until the hour
We’re sealed inside
Our carelessly sown demise

Swept away from shore
With each trial spun
In the fury
Of short-sighted joy

By a vengeful gust
Fit, for colossal thieves
Who drain
To the final, savory drop


Collateral Damage

Blood ravages
The clear blue day
In unrepentant streaks
Warm, with the freshly defiled

The incessant scream
Pours into earshot
Of the staggering dead
Marooned, in eternal bliss

Blood ravages
Once clear
And hopeful panes

Depraved, and jetting
With fervor
And tragic haste

The innocent pulse
To their final red pints
As the weak-willed stroll
For their time
On shores of white