Dressed in Fear

I’m ashamed of these emboldened stripes
That constrict my frame
The immortal pulse of my sins


Treasured Songs of Upheaval

How can you raise an army
When the flare of your embattled voice
Has been beaten into silence?

Screaming, from your deepest lows
Where few souls bear witness
And dare, to entrench themselves

How can you breathe the songs
Of an awaited uprising
When your voice trails away
Constantly unanswered?

Dispersed Hopes and Prayers (Diaspora)

Cling to your lucky stars
To the stripes and banners abroad
To the shades you favor

Stay true, to the frayed outreach of a nation
To the mantra of your distant home
Then every fragment of yourself
Is sure
To fall
In place

Fill every faultline
With the rolling and wondrous tales
Of your bave forefathers

Flood every chasm in yourself
With foreign soil
As you dig to your roots
Finding worlds unknown

Outlast the Night

What untimely sorrow will I meet?
As I fret for the arrival
Of affections returned

I fear every pulse in the night
Like the cries of death embodied
Meant to rob me, of the bloom of her voice

I’d stave off the rampage of fate
To no avail
For a second to bask
In love reconvened

Friendly Advice

Freedom aches for you
Beyond the rhythm of his lies
The twists of your maze
Won’t stand for long

Clear a path to the waves
To that heavenly shroud in the north
Where your kin all patiently await

And leave his ruins to crumble
Let him fade into nothing
But an age misremembered

The March of Sorrowful Nomads

I will run cold through the arteries of this town
Divorced from reason
As a hollowed out ship
Once teaming with purpose

I will find a home of sorts
In the pitch-black sorrow of the restless
Who rove, with the seasons and tides

Having earned, the bite of the wind
The eons of marching
Dulled by an onslaught of lows

I’ll run cold through this town
When the search-lights die out
For a greater good, I’ll never fully know

Thrive Among the Snares

I’ve fallen
Into a tangled mess of verse and rhyme
No longer separate
From the fables I have borne

The more I kick and the more I tussle
The tighter they constrict
Until rivers of ink
Are purged, from my empty sockets

I’ve fallen for the coils of this craft
Exiled from the sun
As I toss and turn
In the clutches of this dream

Murderous Headlines

Headlines terrorize
With creeping barrages
And ideals swarm, consume and deceive

They spear into the heart of our placid hours
Forging the waves
Of a slow unraveling

Conscripting, our precious thoughts
They will turn them loose on the guns
So entrenched in their hate