Protect the Well

Never let the well of your words
Grow parched from worry
Guard it, from the flare of self-doubt


Fight it or Fly

There lives a bundle of nerves
Buzzing, with the talk of the day
With the half-cooked tales
Of the bedridden, bored and fatigued

So easily skewered
Through his thin-plated armor
He merely, wallows in the storm
Until the slanderous winds, die down

Fight it or fly
The former seems foreign
So he spears through the heavens
When he’s had his fill of stray lies

Scattering the shreds of his pride
In one reckless
Thrust to freedom

The Lights Are on and Villainy Awaits

The lights are on at home
But a vagrant is digging through the silence
Leaving watchful friends, none the wiser

An evil is troubling the stillness
The few scattered scraps of triumph I’ve earned

Ever since my silent withdrawal
Unaware, of the ghoulish crusade

The lights beam on forever
Since I’ve tumbled down the stairs
Indisposed,with no shells in my gun

And now I am hollow
In the gushing red tides of my deepest regret
As a villain, so carefully, shovels and heaves

The Flames Lashing Within

His frame of mind is stark
Against the blue swathes of summer
The well-guarded secret of a cast-iron smile

But he pays no regard to his unrest
The flames, lashing from within
“Never mind,
The ever-present ache of your truth”

He must forge on
Through the far and wide beauty
Defying, the fumes
The steady rise of his innermost squalor

King of Relics

What will I become?
A peddler of cliched relics?
Full of lukewarm sonnets
That will fade unreceived?

Where must I stall?
At some worn-down peak
Where the whole world has stormed
Before, I’ve even set out to climb?

Dried out
A defeatist
And far from recognition
Friends and foes
Will take to the streets
In their thunderous relief

Once every fiber of me
That infests the pale page
Has scampered away

Then shall begin
The long-awaited heave
Of prosperity and rapture at last

An Ode to Misfortune

I find only blessings
In the rippling of sorrow
An array of hard lessons learned
Seared deep into my hide

I’ve come to know every inch of the wild
That quakes, with all manner
Of maddening beasts

But I’m no longer shaken
I stray on with welcoming arms
For in truth
Misfortune is the guide
That brightens my path

Summer Will Wring Us Dry

Welcome to your sun-dried prison
To being torched out of reason
To angrily smoldering
In the binds of your flesh

To the restless hordes
Of all of your twisted and villainous thoughts

To the shapeless blotches of sweat
To the endless retching
In the swill, of your acrid fumes

Farewell to the spring
And any semblance of sanity
Ushered away
With its dying chimes of mercy

If Only I Had to Beg

If only I were a grain of sand
In the hearts of blood-kin
Unknown, for all time

I’d brave every storm that sweeps me along,
Leaving me stranded
And parched for my crimes

If only I starved for a scrap of their concern
But their love freely teems
Undeserved and pure