Transposing

holding on
with humbled heart
the hills succumbed
before me

raging
like the devil’s hearth
the earth
left drab and scorched

once
while perched
atop these peaks
a piece of me
quietly departed

unaware
until descent
the direness
of this spiraled dream

e’er i shall
endure its depths
as death reigns long
in sorrowed rain

this fallow ground
on which i stand
alluring
with its thoughts
impure

now conjuring
a new entreaty

beading
upon burdened brow

the briars
of ambrosia

tortured truths
remain
untouched

as tempest
tramples all terrain

and virtue
proven
unavailing

sovereignty
disavowed

our souls
denied
a savior

though Nature gasps
in ashen breaths

her song persists
transposed

[image credit: Milton Avery]

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

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 marquee
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