Behind Their Confident Soaring

The others took off
Without thought
Without complaint

Their distant fluttering
Was a terrifying song
I’ve buried inside of my conscience

I pursued them
With all of my heart
But plunged
Weighed down
By the iron binds of doubt

I grew winded
Far too soon
Behind their confident soaring

So I sank gracefully
So the rest
Might alter their path


A Life of Rhythmic Prose

She leads
A life of rhythmic prose
And sure

To the tune
Boiling deep inside
Her movements are pure
And devoid of remorse

Permeates from her words
As fools stream away
Consumed by their fear

For truth prevails
Within her verse
And each moment is shroud
In strength and perseverance

The Soft Refrain I carry

If life were truly mine
I’d burn through its days
With a white hot fury

Never leaving an instant
To wither unsustained
Leaving no hour starved
In want of life’s true fervor

If time were merciful
Patient, generous and kind
I’d take to the waves
From the brute wrath of fear

These dreams
Consume,the fire bathed skies
Burdening my tired eyes
With perpetual torment

On the verge of collapse
I cradle the refrain:
If life were truly mine

Hold On

Solid ground pulls away
And I’m doomed to lose footing
To surrender my all

I quake from the inside
Teetering and bracing
For the sure agony that looms

As eternity
Beckons, shrill
From inside my waning treads

I stagger and sway
Beyond all certainty
And yearn to remain
For a mere instant longer

Too soon
The dark prevails
And I fall away
As time rolls along

Farewell to Wide-Eyed Pleasantries

Boyhood charm
Was taken with ease
By teenage tribulation

It was wrung dry
In his lifelong climb
As he clamored, for Everest
To claim it’s majesty

Yet all, wide-eyed pleasantries
Were forever lost
In a sudden spurt of growth
In a passing moment
Of faux clarity

Is the hour
He ascends fiendishly
Atop the remains
Of once tried and true friends

Those Few Words

Those few words
Drained away
My cause to breathe

My urge to voyage forth
And beyond my reach

Is the marauding cry
Spawned in the silence
That trailed
So close behind

Lost in Tranquility

I reside
In the afternoon’s swill
Of sun and salt air

So lost
So gladly compromised
In the swell
Of its turbulent waves

Let the anthem cry
Untiring and driven
From the squalor
Of motionless nights

To embark
For mist-shroud days beyond
To ravage them
With clarity and song

The Warmth of Composure

Down they all went
Into the chasm
Of fond reflection

To relive triumph
To taste revelry
For a fast
Fleeting instant

Into the deep
Went delirious fools
To the glow of nostalgia

I fell among them
With hopeful eyes
Sprung open
Yearning, to reclaim
The warmth of composure

Reconvene With Madness

Day one:
To my foremost steps

Day two:
At the curse of tripwire

Day three:
Was continuous falling
Through the floorboards
And down
To unknown lows

Day four:
The curse was truly me
So I chastised my own flesh
Damning, my urge to draw breath

Day five:
I spiraled with rage
Through each foundation
I met beneath the last

Day six:
I awakened
To regain balance
And tripped once more
Into uncovered depths

Day seven:
I recovered
To reconvene with madness
Over and over again

To Fervently Dream

He elopes with reveries
Firmly clasped
In his iron vise

Taking off
For uncharted skies
As his inner demons
Prowl, and draw near

Into vapor
Is the fate
Of his long harbored regrets

In the exhausts
That propel him higher
To yearn
To fervently dream

They are left
Beyond all recognition

In the deafening triumph
In the swift climb
To majesty