Infernal Dialogue

curse this whole contrivance
where our pen perverts our thoughts
bastardizing our expression
into ostentatious dross

which, indeed, is most ironic
even now, i must abide
by the terms of its imposing
despite how it makes me writhe

were it only that i could resist
the pretense of the mind
set upon me with insistence
i am loathe not to comply

for the state of my affliction
disallows for deviation
from its ardent homeostatic
cognitive disposition

so beholden to its power
though emboldened by the hour
i am helpless to assert my will
and thus, i lay here, dour

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tenses past

such finite truths
shall yet unfurl

as we await

unwitting.

the tragedy
of days, unending

the trill of earth afoot.

how tender
is the untrained eye

which falls
upon the burdened hallow

writhing
in its sense
of self

to leave this place
no more.

allow these failings

fear no loss

for freedom
bears no will

i trust.

in tenses past

imploring, e’er

with sovereignty
forsworn

ire of yesterdays

“it was i”

spoke the ire
of our yesterdays

fleeing
on the fleeting fiery sun

all-consumed
by the ruins of the apogee

long into the sea
it surely sunk

we resigned
to thus conspire

by the bleakness
of a burden

only words ambivalent
could ever shun

forever mired

in a tireless aver

naught

lest bygone reveries
confer our sum

oldepunk

let me tell you something
all about a dude they call “oldepunk”
with an “e”, of course
for higher echelon
and “h”, for hunk
which is silent
for you see, it also stands
for humble human
hedonist of sorts
and reformed hellion
who lives in Houston
tearing through the streets
he is a hot-rod lovin’ ramjet poet
full of fire & fury
while dichitomously calm & stoic
wielding such a plethora
of complex lexical expression
every poem i read of his
is like a comprehensive lesson
serendipitous, to be exact
surreal in all dimensions
speaking to me in a way
as though it were a special mention
bolstering the shared connection
present since our first encounter
when i was a whelp
and he, a Sudden Denouement co-founder
his consideration for my e’er reclusive disposition
comforts me in times when correspondence
proves a wisted mission
yes indeed, i miss him
along with my family of damned poets
hopefully, this anxious curse
will soon subside so i can show them

scissored spritzer

take care, should ye wend to tend the vacuum
yond the twilight’s summon

for what one cannot foresee
may soon become thy vengeful hegemon

plotting wicked wrath
upon thy vial of coveted elixir

once, a promise
of somatic sanctuary
spurned to whisker

by the fretful fate
doled out by trimmers
of a phantom wielding

triggered by an arbitrary elbow
of capricious yielding

rendering sadistic shears
descending to a dreadful plummet

poised upon the nigh impending aperture
of fitful flummox

sparing not thy sparkling nectar
fraught now, since did clothe said contents

writhing in the tacky toils
of self-induced syrup-borne laments