Forever Fraught

my predilection toward effusion
may dismay those not departed
cause affront to taste’s convention
leave apologists half-hearted

warrant thrashings deemed most sound
even by standards presumed modest
instigate revolt profound
and draw the ire of known Jihadists

nonetheless, i persevere
for this is all i have to offer
even if it sparks despair
in devotees of Geoffrey Chaucer

some will find my manner trying
some think it obsequious
those astute are found descrying
how i air somniloquous

their opinions might be worthy
to those of aesthetic merit
but thou must understand, surely
that i am not wont to hear it

therefore, i shall e’er regale thee
with this vomitous onslaught
at a frequency seen daily
leaving thee forever fraught


[image credit: Louis Wain]


Extant Toll

reeling from the shrill assail
falls entropy surreal
shrieking past in amaranthine streaks

present will
spawn futures fading

fanning flames
of phantom fears

the silphium of self-affliction

arms outstretched

wretched hands of spider-like accosting
insistent to collect the extant toll

mortals of a moribundity
so profoundly mundane

stranded on ledges
of bridges burned
at oblivion’s edge

a futile spiral of lament
into event horizon

[image credit: Freydoon Rassouli]

Momentary Introspection

perhaps i need a pointed slap in the face
rambling on in these fits of dolor
shameful displays of vulgar isolationist privilege
my natural state is one of positivity and emotional support
found when i consider others
but once i turn the looking glass inward
my world turns on its head
its dormant horrors readily fall from my cryptic thoughts
despite my adamant belief
that i am of a circumstance no worse than others
in fact, i live by the belief
that other’s plights eclipse my own
i feel like such a wretched child
parading about in all my pain
which might serve to allay my suffering
but i do fear i’ve crossed the line
this is not a plea nor pander
it is a fleeting flight of ponder
likely, soon found tucked away
obscured by thoughts effusive


[image credit:  John Bauer]

Pointed Lessons

the abstract tapestry of thought and emotion
sifting through memories
persisting beyond the toll of midnight

a surreality poignance fraught
amidst your fabled absence

through context into lucid light
those wayward flecks take flight

seeing now
the urgency defining bated breath

hindsight is a bird unbounded
heaven’s haste begets unheeding

by the merit of its taste
left on the tongue in lingering

how is it that voices lacking tangible disclosure
visibly vociferate through vales
our verities unseen

only to be vetted in the aftermath
of fate’s denouement

moments later, vested virtues
forsaken anew

by the nighest conscious duress
of my conscience’s affording

i will honor your bestowing
in the bastion of my breast

pray not let these pointed lessons fall
when life resumes its pique

[image credit: Edouard Goerg]

Pathos of Recalcitrance

of course i lie
i’m only human

that aside, one sick of liars
i can justify my libel
yours, i dare not ponder freely

far beyond this ten-foot pole

your willful words of skillful squander
dangle at aberrant angles
fraught with such finagled ire

were that i could only trust you
unlike me, your ship has sailed
destined for abhorrent harbor
drowned in ardor so reviled

solely, to the death, indignant
figments framed as picture-perfect
truth absconded, lost in the morass

endless grabs for abstract fragments
stabbing blindly at the dark
puzzles pieced extemporarily
tenuously strung as art

how you manage without tire
mystifies the misled mind
wandering through gaslit tunnels

taciturn, you spurn the last
this pathos of recalcitrance
sits pithless to the bitter end

[image credit: J.W. Fores]

Futile Foray

as I lay here, leaden chest
anxious heart, and restive mind
coalescing, once again
into a guilt so dire with dolor

spurred by ever cunning words
crafted with a master’s eye
tailored to assail the conscience
playing on our gravest doubts

fallout from a life forsaken
fodder for such fickle ends
rearranged into enigmas
safely to remain unnamed

trust, ever our grandest ideal
placed amid danger’s embrace
where vain desire to see such virtue
leaves us to our weakest mercy

without faith to guide endeavor
fate begets foregone conclusion
such befitting ends precluding
all that dare not risk the cost

with no greater stakes existing
chasing something most surreal
peeling back the layers limpid
reveals only fears inured

so it seems a futile foray
without which life holds no meaning
falling into false presumption
lest our lives succumb to truth



[image credit: Gustave Moreau]