Dragged from a Comforting Lie

I’ll be returned by force
To the frantic order of things
Stalling,
The entire drag down

Out
Into the red fog of embers
To the howling of a mob
So versed, in the fury of their sorrows

The arpeggio of sirens
Once sang me to sleep

Now they’ve silenced the years
Of rusting away
In unearned peace

Take to the Caverns

Take to the caverns
Tranquility, lives in the waves
Drawing in the ills of today

They are swept into the arms of the sea
Where they’ll sail through the ages
Set free, from your thoughtful embrace

Take to the caverns
Where solitude remains
Where the world is constantly undone

The Relentless Clasp – Author William Wright, Jr.

Creative Talents Unleashed

I am spoiled

In their infinite clasp

By the ruthless garbs

All singing

Of far-ago trials

No hour is spared

No road

Wanders free

For they wield my all

This roving

Human disarray

Tattered and heaving

Enclosed

By my chosen snares

These rags sustain me

Through the sprawl

Of daily despair

Yet the world

Pours through

In cold

And sorrowful

Abundance

© 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:

View original post 1 more word

The Trespassers

Life is beyond the outer rings
Sheltered in a glance
That dashes away,
From all manner of seekers

The trespassers launch
Into the haze of stars
On their fast, and eager ships

With bright, inquisitive eyes
They’ll cut through the veil
Of a world, of precious unknowns

Claiming
The Gardens of Eden
That constantly fade
Beneath banners of war

Under the Reign of Sweet Validation

Sinful, yet sweet validation
It has bored a hole through my skull
And has drowned out, integrity’s screams

There’s the rush
The high arc of a dream
That nudges me along
As the cheers, of love and devotion
All dim into silence

There’s the kind rise of the wind
Then the fall
For the cold dark vise of despair

Yet I’m always left weary
And gasping
For more

Buried in the Heart of April

Surely only I
In this sultry time of year
Can weep and howl and mourn
For days on end

“The morning light falls
In its ghostly rays
Through the morbid haze
Of my daily wanderings
Wants and woes”

This
Is that time of the year
When I strive against age
All to lunge for the patience
Of a life long-lost

When every gust of pollen is a curse
And I wheeze, and I gag
To the aching brink of nausea

Then a flourish of anger
Then solitude
Then silence

Pacing

I have too little to behold
To belove
In the rosy snares
Of this nursery of words

I’ve paced this life away
Through the same still-lifes
Through inferno, through beauty
Through the maze of nostalgia

Now I have only fear
For the waiting downfall
From the thundering alps of emotion
Into apathy’s, sweltering marsh