A Rampage of Voices

Say what you will
I am deathly afraid
As I sway, uninvolved
In the fearsome display of mankind

Can I live
When I’m wholly consumed in myself?
As sorrow, rampages outside

Can I live
When I’m faithfully sullen?
In rippling disorder
As the voices ascend
And so gradually die

I am hardly alive
In each raft of new fears
I conjure by light
In the chorus of dawn


Rations of Peace

Nothing is owed
On this road in decline
Tribulation, is swift
And dulls with time

Is done with ease
As the valiant live on, to scrap
For their rations of peace

Still, beauty unfolds
Along, this terrible way
A fate, worth braving the rage

Medusa’s Raft

So helplessly, I yearn
From this drifting barge
To the dark water’s cull

In vain
I slave for the shores of home
As I’m violently
Jolted away, to sink

Where the open skies
Yield nothing at all
For miles and miles
Emblazed with light

Where the fires of hell
Engulf each day
Giving way
To a cosmic display, each dusk

As the past unfolds
So jubilant and fair
In the heart
Of a bittersweet silence

What a Waste

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

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

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

Feeding these Ireful Times

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

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

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.