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]

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]

In Truth

in truth

i am nothing

if not
for this
suffering

fleshed
of sighs

in nuanced
rebuttal

abjection
from sanity

lost

spectrums span
ceaselessly

i dare be sworn

to behold

the bane
of my dedition

Man-Made Mood

suicide
can swoon you
come the solstice moon’s
return

in spite of its obsequious attendance
on the fives and tens

some would even say
it was romantic

though i’m not inclined
to justify your prying
either way

airing such affairs
errs most uncouth
besides this documenting

circumstances
spare no time to tarry

only in the spongecake
of a soft and silky
skull-bound stockade

does a tolerance
evince

alas, these are but
ramblings
of a mordant
man-made mood

so pardon me
for pissing
on your balsamine
impatiens

[image credit: Frantisek Kobliha]

Lost Expression

all that i desire to say
can be found lost in my expression
enshrouded by archaic airs
arbitrary to my intentions

are these conscious thoughts of truth
in conflict with my hidden layers
or is it pretense so aloof
driving rifts through solemn lair

this much i may never know
and such it is i must accept
that all i might forever show
should be not what my heart reflects

A Pseudo Farm

with lackadaisical regard
i watch as they dwindle
one by one
and sometimes two
or more

i never formed
a reason to rhyme
until time descended
upon me
like a pornographic impulse

brew me another cup
of disillusionment
while you’re at it

that last one
nearly fit the bill

sometimes
i wonder if i actually will
or would
or could

of course,
there is no question
as to whether or not
i should

though i am
but a coward
in uncomfortable skin

i’ve worn out
since the day
the world informed me

as i swallow
more
to boredom’s pallor

like a Fuller Brush Man
in a town inhabited
by ghosts

where nothing hearkens
but the silence
that consumes me

as a void that lay
between two mirrors
spared of my own completion

To Fall

to fall

into the unknown
dimension

where lovers
leave

words like
poets
bleed lament

where
corpses heed
none

but their own

condemnation

 

is more
than just

morbid salvation
undone

where shunned
is reprieve

born
on sleeves

worn
as weary

in storms
of contrarian
fears

shared

by one

is
to walk
into scarcity

piercing
the sun’s skin

where verity
ventures

of time’s
volition

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

A Brief Importance

in days of dust
and clouded haze
sing silent whispers
amid resignation

where muted martyrs
beckon forth
a call to arms
at arm’s length, lost

dull, broken banter
obscuring cries
as empty bottles
fill out our fears

skies loom strewed
with vacant signs
to feed the void
of eyes so vain

the passive ardor
adorning glass
peers through our window
in blighted light

a hand lay cold
on shoulder spurned
fixed in the moment
without flinching

when dusk came sweeping
the people waned
a brief importance
then saw me home