I Prefer Not To.
there is beauty in all things
for it exists within our words.
one mustn’t hazard any
further contemplation.
the time to speak is now.
resonate sonorously
with prosody profound.
each soul must
sing its song.
imbue your voice
upon the world
’til your heart
rings the truth of love.
with harmonic resolve.
the struggle
to release my fears
from shackled shrills
of obscene silence
pulling further
down with every second
thought since spent
vile undertows
that know me well
spell out this hell
in heavy throes
below
where phantom prose
commiserates lament
each word
wafts ever wayward
in dissociative dimensions
obscured by the illusion
borne of urgency
forgone
enthralled by conscious calls
of a conspicuous collusion
that subdivide the lies
my conscience cries
to stay afloat
that i require
the fundamental sating
trapped in spurned epistles
e’er belies
what blissfully denies
my ignorance
which writhes on
muted shores
secluded
hopelessly exiled
as i succumb
to numbness
of my solitude’s descent
depression sets in
cyclical perpetuity prying
clawing at the prefrontal cortex
altruistic assertions abundantly articulated
aimlessly amid atmospheres of apathetic arrogance
the pittance of positive people
professing palpable parable
is repeatedly passed over
spurned, and disparaged
for the perverted purpose of pandering
to the plight of pathetically puerile opponents
to placate their pathological penchant
for proliferated pandemonium
the spirit of selflessness
and subsequent sanctuary is subjugated
by solipsistic sentiments
that seem to spread
like pestilence plaguing the soporific populace
seeking to appease
the silent sect of surrogate shamers
tiptoeing through the treacherous tumult
presaging tales of omnipresent fear
with foreboding and pale trepidation
all too typically trivialized
by tiresome talk of intolerant tripe
tailored to tantalize stolid thinkers
in triumphant tantrums of truant intellect
inflecting in facetious affectation
fostering false intent so toilsome
tempting my intrinsic inclination
to defect and deactivate
with the hope of abating this state of inundated hatred
bred into my head by the hordes
of men faceless whose faith
one can only surmise to be heedless
so, needless to say my dismay
is with relevant reason
enough to release this lost soul
into sempiternal egress
love looms
amid the earthen shrine
in contrast with truth
pressing onto parchment
muted musings left lingering
for glancing eyes
that gaze in contempt
aghast at the ongoing display
of decadent debauchery
never have they known
such indiscretion
yet none can speak
for what is known
the radiance
disarming
its cadence grows stronger
echoing into the abyss of anguish
from one
to other
bearing no consequence
of relevant toll
rolling like a snow-bound stone
enjoyed by the sun
all of these ancestral affectations
airs of artifice
agonizing over every breath
spilled out onto the landscape
like leaves leading to disarray
in lost portrayal
sweet strands of vermilion
lick like flames
framing such fragile alabaster allure
alone and aloft
soft tones of humility
exuding from hearth
set upon this heart
rekindled by kindred coalescence
windswept into one regret
and set to the serenity
of solitude’s song
idle thoughts
convict
the
heads of hollow
apparitions
a sentence
of sentient disposition
decomposing
marionettes
in rows of chariots
charging
forged by fear
preoccupation
and abeyant presumption
racing to the finish
lines of faceless pretense
praying
to appease what
is not present
Time doth taint the faint of heart
By painting truth where once stood art
And shining light in corners dark
From ancient moor to morrow’s hark
Perception forged with dawn anew
The day’s deceptions drawn to view
Our misconceptions now construed
With every moment thus imbued
So hapless are we to contest
The trappings of its false arrest
We must abide by its behest
Beholden to our sown duress
But only with its presence nigh
Doth life exist within our eyes
It must persist lest we devise
A narrative bereft of rhyme
We struggle to appease its ire
Befuddled by the muck and mire
This force of nature ne’er retires
The nomenclature of expire
At best, the past and future stations
Merely are but speculation
We have only one salvation
In our present indignation
Futile flights of fantasy
Flown by fools on fated eves
Found fast the path to effigy
Forged by the wrath of flippancy
So when the tower’s bell doth toll
Sing loud its reverie with soul
Think of it not as time control
But that by which all life unfolds
surely
there must be some mistake
perhaps i wandered into
into the incorrect building
you see
i am quite simply not
qualified to be
here
these are neither my peers
nor my contemporaries
i am not in league
with such capable beings
there is no chance
for me
to ever hope to function
at this level
being of sound
heart and mind
this mindful awareness
has impaired me
in more ways
than i ever dare to fathom
my head
so heavy
no sooner can i
lift it from its feathered wrest
than i can
untether from this tempest
of everyday duress
it seems i have unwittingly
piqued gravity’s good will
for it bears down upon me
with the burden of all the heavens
it is such
that i must conclude
the nature of this vaunted god
is that of something wanton
These thoughts of you
Invade my every waking sense
Weakening with bated breath
Wreaking chaos
In roseate efflorescence
I walk the edges of eternity
Faltering at every step
through faults of amphicheiral aching
Where fragments form our firmament
To compose in erstwhile prose
And wistful reclamation
Transposing woes
Into frozen waves of piercing
Shattering on stuttered shores
Of dormant adoration
Awakening the ardor
Of dreams lost to translation
Where stardust softly tends
The silence of surrender
transmuting mutable emotions
into tragic projections
aired triumphant
the essence of our dissonance
flaunting our afflictions
through depictions of despair
in proud parades of pride displayed
disguised as introspection
devised of indignation
feral fears of primeval impel
fostering our fates
in lives surrendered to placation
impending skies of false illusion
looming truth e’er nigh
belying belief that all is for naught
lost amid the bliss of artifice
remiss to mind the cost
as sapient wastrels subsisting
Max, or Not 
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