Social MEdia

it is such a strange dynamic
these forums in which we gather
in a most persistent state
of idle incoherent blather
trapped behind these glowing screens
the hopes and dreams of every person
air as fleeting as a meme
subjected to flights of aversion
as it seems, the world awaits us
from the very place we sit
boundless escape from our sorrows
hanging at our fingertips
realms of plastic intimacy
ruled by unforgiving whims
wintry hearts that once burned holes
in skies that since have fallen dim
scarcely shedding light on truth
of how quickly we are forgotten
pittances of such regard
leave scars for which no time allots for
in the moment, fools are prone
to bleed expression most effusive
once it passes, who will fill the need
persisting in the ashes
~valiant~, are those who ride
upon a white horse singing freedom
“free” to run their dalliances
soon to show their heart’s deceiving
still, the truth is far more complex
for we all are hapless victims
seeking an escape from our extenuating circumstances
we present personas of our ideal’s interpretation
pandered then to strangers
in an undisclosed remote location
who we treat with no more respect
than we would a pop-up ad
for times we might need some support
when life has left us feeling bad
however, if they fail to answer
in a time we deem respectful
we become annoyed and then consider them to be neglectful
such brazen hypocrisy seems fitting for a generation
raised by television screens
and disenchanted baby-sitters
left without a precedent
of how to treat our fellow humans
honestly, what can we expect
but a state of social ruin
with so many channels of communication ever running
how we manage to engage them all
is truly something stunning
this, of course, is not the case
as countless people are left hanging
whilst we frantically relate
the tales of our spouse’s haranguing
maybe if we placed half as much effort
as we do complaining
into our immediate surroundings
life would be less draining
sadly, there is no foreseeable solution to this issue
therefore, i suggest you grab a box of chocolates
and some tissues

Trust

i have spun this web
with words unsaid
upon a bed of sorrow

love ne’er ebbs
though in her stead
i dread to face
the wakeless morrow

broken vows of death’s departing
spoken with a silver tongue

cloaked in shards
from shattered hearts
enshrouded by the blackened sun

seconds fall at fevered pace
as life does from this land of lust

where all intentions turn to waste
and hurt is what we earn for trusting

Our Condition

this dream that teems with emptiness
is one i know so well
for it permeates the essence
of existence

despite how it may seem
on the surface of this shell
reality looms ever
in the distance

the laughter that you hear
is the mirror reflecting tears
transmutated by a diligent subconscious

even when i smile
it’s to subjugate my fears
in a world where judgment rules
such fools as pontius

if i appear serene
it is only to belie
every tempest ever brimming
from within

the depth of this despair
has breached the realm beyond repair
and it’s all that i can bear
not to give in

the worst might never be
save to say this lonesome curse
will afflict the hearts of all
who dare exist

that we will never know
any truth by what is shown
the state of our condition
e’er persists

Not Even Death

and here we are
yet living
on this eve of lost idyll

i am no more able
to feel your touch
than sorrowed skies retreat

the passing hours
grow ever darker
my lair has turned to dust
unsettled

roaming on this plane
alone
in search of any senseless reason

the more i look
the more i find
my mind is but a distant ruin

littered with the consequence
of time’s relentless ire

as truths unravel
by its hands
extending far beyond
the grave

where now
not even death
can stand to save us

Hearkening

if only the winds of change
would carry me beyond this station

where i have long remained
an apparition unaffected
by my own inadequacy

a labored vessel vacillating
its purpose now invalid

with lucid vision
i recall
the pendulum’s release
from the servitude of our perceptive squalor

to separate the seasons
with a force of unrest
fierce as reason

bound and bitter days
played to my head
odes of the organ grinder

slowly dragging brailled notations
over beds of structured rods
with patience
wrought of ore
and tempered into tertiary tones
cathartic

hearkening the memories
gathered upon lost shores

Stoic Submission

even now
when thoughts of her
affronting love’s convention
have shuffled off
the consequence
befalling our mistake

do trails tell truth
of hours attending
context tread anew

disavowing fated remnants
lingering devoid of interest
bleeding web of understanding
weeping reaped
sown of her seed

in retroactive disillusion
memories become unraveled
like the sutures
faintly tethering us
at the tearless seam

so it seems
as days unfolding
shattered moulds
tinged with decay
hinging on pending perspectives
shifting lights shine
fears display

in the barren sands of ruin
truant cheeks
turned weak of will
baring thoughts i pray not bear

surrendered to stoic submission

I Have Known

i witness the effusive sentiments
of unabashed hearts
as they stumble over fumbled footsteps
a comfort washes over me
not unlike the sunlit showers satiating spring
to know that others still yet feel
what once was mine to cherish
in such moments there exists contentment
all throughout the senses
similar to the calm which tends the cemetery grounds
such peace only comes from understanding
that the soul continues
far beyond the scope of our perception
though there may be some who feel affronted
by displays of affection
on their sleeve, a lonesomeness cries
long into the night
painting partial images
of all that they have come to know
secretly, i whisper to the skies
of their behalf
for i have felt the ineffable
flourish from within my being
strumming every string
that brings a dormant hope to feel
and though i since have plummeted
into the depths of loss surreal
just to have tasted ambrosia once
is far more than enough
if only it were written
in the annals of eternal truth
that every life be blessed
with the symphony of the love
as for me, the joy that once was
stays my hand on restless nights
when the unforgiving cold
consumes this ruinous face turned frigid
memories arise to lift my spirit into solace
and within that fleeting flash of twilight
i am found