The maddening inquiries swarm
As a high plume
Of misguided concern

Pummeling my tranquil thoughts
Hurling my insides
Into a cauldron of panic

Black waters steam
Troubling violently
As I descend helplessly
Into their hateful
Boiling embrace

The air grows thick
Brimmed with clouded yearnings
They scour with savage hunger
Like starved
Destitute vultures

And what remains
Are leagues of darkness
For I am fully undone
A lone ribbon
Straying, mute and weary


A Foaming Sea of Satisfaction

My floundering relevance
Is a tremendous anchor
Ensuring I’ll sink
Cloaked in fright and anguish

Beneath the froth
Of friend and foe
Their jealous clamoring
Raging tussle

My passionate stirring
Withers to a halt
As I jet for the depths
Bound to the weight of loss

I become ragged
An uncaring bottom-dweller
Devoid of all couth
Any urge,
To charge for the glimmering surface

Below the surge
Of salt and satisfaction
Beneath man’s eternal rage
I carve my hearth and home

Farewell to currents
To the ominous roar of trends
Your mindless scuffling
Can no longer, phase my steps

Scouring the Broad Span of Time

Scavenging eyes
Glow hot within my skull
In fervent scouring
Of the broad span of time

For the faultless glimmers
The pristine flicker of verse
Those sheltered in racing currents
That beckon, faithfully and honest

To pry away their fables
To reap their ominous toll
Lingers, my highest hope
At each passing flare of dusk

My sunken and tired eyes
Shall slave with stern resolve
Until darkness holds sway
And the mind,wavers with hope

Forever enthralled
Primed and at the ready

I’ll try harder

I want to formally apologize for all of my lackluster poetry as of late. I don’t really feel like myself, and I fear I’ve run out of subjects to write about.

Tree Stumps

Frost-tinted fields
Span with fallen timbers
Where wooden stumps
Jut mournfully
Entranced by solemn remembrance

These plains thrive on
In the coils of my spirit
Diminished and sullen
Deprived of their exuberance

It is here inferno reigns
With its menacing sprawl
Where melancholy thieves
Each passing,callous day

Before Victorian Giants

My skull is peppered
With worthless facts
Of man’s finest deeds
Flak guns and tribulation

I meander blissfully
Through timeless galleries
The offerings of the mad
Those confined, to desperation

I weave with content
Through streets of cobble-stone
Before Victorian giants
In their age of gilded refuge

My wholeness expands
As I free-fall
Into the grasp of former years

Thumbing through memories
I do not own
The life and times
Of bygone strangers

A pastime
I dare not disclose
For a flurry of minced words
Drive many to retreat

When All Words Are Spent

The world stirs
As titans drift away
Buzzing with teary farewells
Well wishes
As they depart for the ages

For the words shed
Within their time
Spent with great care
Diligently, brimmed with meaning

We strain and implore
For a valiant return
A recovery of the passions
We’ve adored for so long

We strain and implore
But it must come to pass
To which we flock
For the care of remembrance

What Fear Demands of Me

Confidence flees
From my quivering limbs
While fear demands
I avert my eyes

And travel
Sullen, battered, and unseen

Thundering voices
Trek proudly beyond
With solid ground beneath them
The day, they’ll surely reap

And all its fine treasures
Hastily, fastened to their cloth

With ailing resolve
I lumber along
In a slow unraveling
As onlookers depart

The Thundering Flare of Youth

The waning murmurs pass
Along  timid  roads
We may never recall

Ghostly words
Drift on forgotten
Among boastful deeds
The thundering flare of youth

Into stern, placid waters
Untroubled muteness
Sprawling forever more

They remain
Firm in silence
Sealed by the ages
Unwilling to divulge

Brazen Passersby

The blood washed sunrise
Beads upon my head
Soaked in the offerings
Of brazen passersby

Through the palm’s early sway
The rays hail

Its mournful toll
For the gallant young
So hastily
Carelessly bartered

The weight of sunlight
Overtakes me
Pinning my thoughts
Into faithful servitude

For the valiant tussle
In the coils of strife
From the shrill cries of night
To day’s of fuming mire