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]

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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]

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