Monarch Sky

i thought
that you could see me
through the lens
which rend your heart

the foment
of foreboding heed
that sought
to play your part

with every waning
flaxen tide
thus waxing
unquashed tears
comprised
of unseen sorrows
as they fall
into arrears

this blood yields not
to yarrow
‘neath the fields
of monarch sky

the piercing
of your arrow’s wound
seals fast
our love’s demise

Petaled Trails

once
i walked
a lone procession

in the blossoming
wake of a cherry
bloom daydream

lost
in thought
as threnodies
cried peals
of Zeus’wrath

helpless
in a gaze
transfixed

counting down
each drowning
footstep

tread upon
tremulant flesh
yet shone anew

as our minds
fell behind
racing hearts

failing
to bridge
the frigid waters

on that day
when i long held
truth

as the subtle sky
absconded
with your song

Love Most Valid

arid mist
of rhapsodic
waxing

long sought
to dismantle
the essence
only to reveal
its Gestalt

assigning
attenuous tenets
composed of pretense

to valence
resigned

but love validates
existence
through open commune
of fluid mind

with trust
respect and
shared silence

nascent intimacy
airs triumphant

while astute observation
inherently deferent
endures

for these are the matters
of consequence revered

Promised Hours

why is it
that only upon leaving
do you voice
lament

fleeting amid
sentiments
and sudden
things to do

promised hours
perish
in a flash
of wistful
alley light

scarce
your words
remain
as token trials of hope
since lost

hanging in denial
are faded smiles
and fusty
mothballed coats

in the closet
strung like latent
trysts
listless
and long forgotten

The Last Pain

fading in
and out of shadows
faces
of bizarre contortion
glaring
as a stranger’s
features
reach into
this bed of famine

trapped within
these walls
without you

terror-stricken

anxious

reeling

haunted
by fates unforeseen

fleeing
from my own escape
on paper
pouring totured
thoughts

poring over
art
distraught
in attics
dimly lit
amid daunting stacks
bearing chronicles
so unfamiliar

taunting
with disparity
the stalking stares
cast cold as steel

the last pain
I am left to feel
is lost to numbness
pitted in this hole
that was my conscience

Stranded On the Precipice

death escaped
my hands

and left me

standing at the altar

the emptiness
received me
like a self-
inflicted wound

in a room
adorned with trinkets of trifle

faintly linking
my alter-ego
to this faux land

of vaulted heart
and vapid mind

where visions turn
away
afraid
to learn

of their inbound
inception

this blunderous aberration
has no station

nor foot
to find it steady

a cistern of depleted days
precedes each ghastly step
in protest

stranded
on the precipice
of a sempiternal impasse

surely they jest
upon questioning
assent to my depression

such pain belies
its own expression

and politesse yet stays
my tongue

To LIVE

To LIVE

is to have

the TRUTH
of one’s individual
PERSONAL
experience

perpetually

INVALIDATED

by the WORLD

around you

with special

EMPHASIS

on those
who ARE poised

to KNOW

YOU best

As Sorrows Bleed

meet me
where the shadows drift
apart
from who we are

where waning tides
reveal the rift
that weeps
into the stars

wrap me
amid layers
of a long
forgotten kiss

our voices
led astray
upon the solace
of your lips

shake me
to the rhythm
of our innocence
denied

pray not let us
fall
into a conscious
state of lies

for all
this world
has proven
naught
but torment in reprise

and so
we take our leave
as sorrows bleed
for you and i

Wrought with Misery

silence ever
bleeds eternal

on such
darkened eves

huddled
in the farthest
reach

of hidden
memories

barren conscience
lies below

where
shallow whispers
breathe

brandishing
the burdens
buried ‘neath
a bed of leaves

once
shone verdant
in their glory

now tinged
with decay

tucked
in scattered layers

singed
in tattered
disarray

everything
that mattered

faded
in a distant scene

drifting
into nonexistent

narratives
serene

pages bare
the words
unspoken

waging wars
unseen

wading
in the erstwhile
waters

wrought
with misery

Shades of Pompeii

somewhere
along this wayward
path

i lost
the sum
of you

in broken
buttons

crumpled
papers

whispers

faintly
promised

to reflections

we once
bared

scattered
over trails
capricious

memories
thread precious
pleas

plotting
their escape

like petty fools
from plighted faith

parched
from implore

upending
thoughts

would mark
the path

that led me
to your vested
heart

when vagrants
sought
the stars

and charted
the descending
hours

of our last
reverie

rapt
in such despair

’til all
that i could
see

were driftless
streaks
of blackness
stripped

amid
the grip
of shame

unearthed

where flashing
shades
of pompeii

stayed
in grim dispart

impressed
upon

the distant
sky
estranged

a world
apart

“Choices”

no woman chooses.

the word “choice”
is a quaint affectation
of male privilege

one that shifts
the burden
onto the woman’s shoulders

with a simple
single syllable
of sinister
silver-tongue

that speaks volumes
of the depraved disconnect
of daddy’s deflection

defecting

neglecting

such wretched
subjection

to misogynist mindsets
that fret
at any hint
shown to impede
its quest for glory

its aweless reverie

of his requisite bequest

that rests for no burden
not even those wrought
by its own wanton hands

with nary a thought

for the “choice”
lies with man

to own up to his deeds
to reap what was sown
beyond his own base needs

choosing not to desert
to then foster a trust
that would honor what is just

by accepting
the circumstance born
of his lust

he must stand tall supinely
to shatter all doubt
in the matters regarding
the wrath of his route

for women most oft
are forever distraught

abandoned
bereft
left exploited
with naught

whilst these men prance
with ease
frolicking fancy-free
fleeing scene
with the breeze
having sown their ill-seed

for their ego
surpasses all
with such vomitous gall
as a life is forestalled

ne’er to answer the call
so appalling this trait
leaving life in its wake
only flight will he take
once his whim has been slaked
without further adieu
in a cloud of hot dust
and a fervid salute
served most proud and abrupt
rendering hearts nonplussed
like a billowing gust
once his will has been thrust
turns militantly brusque
with such fierce flippancy
throws all under the bus
in a thunderous peal
it’s a wonder surreal
as the moment reveals
what his true heart conceals

but there is no appeal
to that which cannot feel
so this dastardly deal
is so masterfully sealed
as a bastard is reared
in a fluster of tears
with a father not there
never bothered to care
not a moment to spare
to prevent all the fears
wrought by scrutinous stares
lurid thoughts turpid lots
from a surrogate’s leer
innocence left defenseless
for reasons so senseless
a treasonous pretense
to heathens demented

still lacking incentive
to try to prevent this
fate of such portending
consequence unending
of futures surrendered
no suture could mend
ill-repute so contentious
yet still men dispute
and refute their subjection
and all for the sake
of their putrid compulsions
so duly revulsing
profanely effusive
the lives left behind
are not those
which they must live
and thus it is a shit
for which they do not give
so willing to forfeit
the world they created
but for a mere moment
of fleeting amusement
that spurns an entire
existence
so uselessly
suffered for naught
and for what
but their ego’s
egregious gestalt

Another Day

another day

another chance
to wallow
in this hollow
fetid shell

another dance
amid the fallout
of this self
constructed hell

forever burdened
by this curse
immersed in faded
aquarelle

ever is this
burgeoning dearth
fated
until i am
felled

When the Hour Fell Bleak

when the hour fell bleak
a rippling spied
the outlier

appearing
in ragged reproach

an artifact without
precedence
that spoke of adoration
dire

ere a doting hope
sang
its parting prelude

from where i now sit

in a cold eclipse
of dreariness
laced
with mistled tears

spent aloft
these long planes
of bondage

i fondly resigned

my mind’s production
flashing its garish marquis
for all to see

foreshadowing
disparity profound

were it not sustained
by wispy druids
of pigment piqued

no further
query

averted eyes
trained vigilant

this chronicle
of maddened youth

swore your rigid head
invalid

with never more
truth
scorned a lustful red

as prideful irony
now reigns
in the void
of expectation

Painted Rainbows

I come
from a long
line

of cocaine

chains

and painted
rainbows

tainted aims
and hijacked
reins

that taunt me
with their wonton ways

led by tinted
saints

whose patronizing
love
would one day fade

in truth betrayed
through time’s display

were
all things ventured
for naught gained

save this dull pain
that e’er remains

to haunt me
in her silent
shades

Rogue Reminisce

shadows crept
the length
of disquietude

distilled
in the wonder
of our willful dearth

lumbering
through morass

when last we plundered
this scorching earth

she blindly scrawled
three bold runes

that burn yet
still
within
this piteous pith
of tormented ruin

immune
to time’s retelling

they rave and revel
in a rogue reminisce

A Mind Once Sound

i bear
your cross

in the frost-addled agony
of anhedonia

adrift
in discrepant lucidity

of dolent disrepair

its wintry sermon
inhabits
my every haunt

taunting
my inhibition

intently
transmuting

this glacial divide
thawing
with haste

forestially untethering

each stinging tie
to a mind
once sound

rant of scant merit

I guess I’m an emotional masochist because I always fuq everything up far beyond the precipice of merit propitious.  Dare I say, it’s depressingly disconcerting for it’s duly quite fervid, the ferocity with which I unfailingly inflict this inbound bondage.  I have deemed a living hell upon myself whose reins I shall never relinquish.   Nor shall I ever dispel the curse that these verses disperse on my pithless personage.  I search for the dirge that might deign to divulge my divergent urges surging to ravage my visage with savage compulsion and vague supposition.  Vulgar and vile these vices I vaunt when enveloped in venting with vanity’s wont.  As I saunter hauntingly to a daunting demise.   I witness this witless world through wistful windows of time since rescinded sans residual reticence of rote compliance that readily dotes on my amative recalcitrance.  To further articulate this artless affliction so to properly parse the veil of this valse lacking prevalent cause, prudent pause must be given to parlay the amplitude of dispossession so that I mayhap, per se, gain from said deprivation.  With all best intentions mentioned ad infinitum, impressed upon god’s greatest audience of none.  Yet somehow I find that the soul of my mind ever shuns me thus spurring to run underground just so that I may hide from this hideous horror whorled in writhing. Undermining my chances to shine with such vibrancy confined to contrivance in idle contradiction to idyllic ideals.  Where no sound is present to presage profound plights of piteous people persistently perishing garishly sinking into sentient pits of sapient despair.  And here I lay, hapless in hyporeactive states hopeless to extend a helping hand bearing the selflessness of our sole salvation.  To solve any quarrels of lore’s requiem as ennui quandaries of quietus quell squeamish skin squandered.  Acclimatization to scandal and scourges encouraging naught but a purging averred. Spurious inference evinced disingenuously, a word so misused it defines what is wincing.  Thrust upon miasmic oceans of plasma in plumes plotting schisms of ruinous rue.  Sophists usurping poised with dissemblance, in spite of supinely presented sound pleas.  At which point I ponder to pander implore that you please apprise me what purpose this is for. Aside from assuaging an aging aplomb ere appearing as pompous as this pen’s pathetically impaired plies of reasoning so paltry. Alas, I digress, for my state of distress is distorting the functions compressing my chest.  Lest I cease and desist I shall cease to exist but at least I know this much is blissfully true: I am fuqd and I cannot resist this fool’s fate of such languorous and lasting lamenting libration.  Intent on selling my soul to the devil in reveries of such voracious dyspepsy and lack of discretion so disseminating degrading the ground that I share with my fellow formations of foul indignation interred.  In tombs of tempestuous vestibules flailing in failure so profound it resounds and reverberates in sonorous echoes that beckon our reckoning in this armageddon that hails from charred skies. Rippling throughout our decrepit contortions condemned to a cold crippling morphine drip faintly gripping death’s sinewless hand where we lie.

This Latent Lament

your words
are the sinister fire
that burns
truth
through holes
in my head

with thoughts
that forever conspire
to spurn the unheard
consequence

i look to your kingdom
of ire
to learn
of my lost relevance

with hope
i may someday
retire
from churning
this latent lament

the days
of conflict
and desire
were earned
but would never
be spent

this love
once so fervent
and dire
returns now
to fine
sediment

[Photo: Mary Pickford]

Final Frame

i awaken
into dream

the essence so precise
a place
i know so well
it seems

this feeling
permeates every aspect
of my being

where i can
never again
expect
to be

time has turned

forbidden
spurned
forlorn

for the life
of me

i cannot
discern disparity

alas

my conscious mind
soon finds
the glass rift

as what was once
life shifts

the past
sight amiss

all is ripped
from this fervid grasp

in that fleeting
final frame

of perfect
freedom

forsaken

I Hazard to Ponder

fragments of lovers
burned fast
fall to ash
in this charcoaled heap
that lay afoot

this exterior
excoriated
by the nails
of their failings

but none can impale

for I only have lived
in the aftermath
of a restless memory

forged in a dream

i hazard to ponder

if love had ever surpassed
the scorching
of this insolent soul.

but all I have
beheld

is mounds of
rubble
pounding
plotting
persisting.

the sea now beckons
the sanctity of sleep
on her floor
of forgiving

through this channel of tears
from sorrows impounded