In That Darkness

it is only
in that darkness

unburdened
by the sun’s insistence

when the vilest
of creatures vanish

do we assemble

in legions
of hypnagogic afterthought

to worship our liege
of argent gloaming

like romans
in their own day

we take
to excess

to banish the dross
of existential blowoff

which echoes in these chambers
of mitochondrial horror

with implore aimed
at staying all tomorrows

whilst stranded
in the dregs
of yesterday

When Consciousness Comes Calling

there is a pang

when consciousness
comes calling

magnetic forces
disrupt the atmosphere

and dormant thoughts return
as torment ripples
throughout my being

with the ominous silence
of imminent shockwave

bearing the gravest
consequence of logic defied

tearing me
from the static sepsis
of my heart’s invasion

to answer its unbridled beckon
with blinded reckoning

as i shudder to behold
the untold tale
of my greatest failing

through portals of peridot
long dulled from life’s laments

sodden earth
from sullen stream

once culled from squalor
placed within the bezel
of my breast

and pulled me from this berth
by the undertow’s drag

jilted like sloughed slag

amid a mournful requiem
of shrill remorse

The Silence of Forever

my spirit longs
to be the stars
that fill your sky

my heart would shine
reflections
of its truth

to lift you
up into a realm
where solace
sings redemption

that once
you laid upon me
by the mercy
of your kiss

but even vigilance
has lost its vested path

these broken roads
no longer
reach epiphany

as apathy
alone
absconds
with wistful dew

i thought
would one day
compose a river

through the valley
whence our love
had rent the earth

that i might sail
those tempestuous waters

in search
of where the willows
wept your name

but all my efforts
toiling at the pulley

have only returned
buckets
of morass

wrested hands
from years
of untold callous

now leave me
to attend
this ghostly shore

where sorrow comes
to lay for death
in prostrate

with arms
of clay stretched thin
succumbed to dust

once sought
to sway the forces
of the cosmos

with hope
to never stray
from its embrace

as mountains
birthed of mirthless
apprehension

would vanish
into the silence
of forever

Mistaken

when I tasted
the ground
my world
was no longer
for what I had found
was stronger than death
when my face
grazed the earth
my sight
torn right from me
I gazed at my worth
were life not a freedom
the crashing of bones
knees, elbows, and skull
would fall into silence
upon urgent moment
the brashness of one
fleeing from the lull
appallingly useless
for all, consequent

Dispatched

dispatched
to the hungry umbrage
spindly wraiths
spill ruination
arms athwart
absorb nullity
boots and RIFs
soon disavowed

whistling timbres
so precise
held brimstone fists stripped
knuckled white
waried faith
lest bullets showered
dulled the Duster pastorales

plucked like florets
bare and breathless
strafing nightly
saw them felled
prowess at imperil’s onset
sweat poured down
a poor man’s brow
loud as telegraphed
impressions
dispossessed
like wingless flies

birds took to the sky
in errant
bursts of aril
none were spared
crimson horrors
void of rinsing
from the hands
of shellshocked minds

blind are days
since hell became us
land of freedom
man as god
sadist thieves
left grief besotted
rotting leaves
pinned to dead air

Pasting the Past Into the Present

a poem is but
a restive cluster
grasping
onto pages
with our frantic
fears conspicuously
calling out
for rescue

meticulously poring through
decrepit thoughts
of hoarded visions
kiss to tryst
to triste
in a blissful
dissolution
before sediment
comes nigh
where sighs undress
our destitute descries

calculated coalescence
pandering our pride’s
priviest imprints
curling chips of paint
exposing throes
of yesterdays

sacred cruxes
born before
our burgeoning bereavement
from whence all
embarking destined
for a distant hearken
poised to be
impartially presented
in pretentiously penned
appropriations
parsed
to pierce our peers
appetition
to sate this
untold inquisition

Aversion

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ere i walked the shadows
of a shameless life eschewed
i sometimes talked for hours
on the telephone
’tis true

attending to the inbox
which would hold my correspondence
until one day i stopped
having become too despondent

seven years have come and gone
and still i have not looked
nor listened to my messages
not even on facebook

this plague pervades
most every aspect
of my adult years
i since have lost the respect
of my family and peers

for they can’t see the reasons
nor the logic of my plight
its tragedy is lost
amid the inference of their slight

presuming that it must be
that they’ve somehow drawn my ire
some say i’m maladjusted
others think i have retired

i cannot help but panic
upon hearing rings and tones
instilling in me frantic feelings
reeling in my home

truth be told i have disabled
every last alarm
and push notification
for they only cause me harm

and should you try to reach out
with an intention to touch
you’ll not invade this redoubt
that has long since been my crutch

and if you are to know me
then you first must understand
even if you are the homie
you can talk to your own hand

Monarch Sky

i thought
that you could see me
through the lens
which rend your heart

the foment
of foreboding heed
that sought
to play your part

with every waning
flaxen tide
thus waxing
unquashed tears
comprised
of unseen sorrows
as they fall
into arrears

this blood yields not
to yarrow
‘neath the fields
of monarch sky

the piercing
of your arrow’s wound
seals fast
our love’s demise

Petaled Trails

once
i walked
a lone procession

in the blossoming
wake of a cherry
bloom daydream

lost
in thought
as threnodies
cried peals
of Zeus’wrath

helpless
in a gaze
transfixed

counting down
each drowning
footstep

tread upon
tremulant flesh
yet shone anew

as our minds
fell behind
racing hearts

failing
to bridge
the frigid waters

on that day
when i long held
truth

as the subtle sky
absconded
with your song

Whatever I Have Known

whatever
i have known

in thought
through observation

has trickled
through the
hollow holes

that hearken
solstice winds

in shapes
and sounds
from profound
to mundane

demanding
their address

effortlessly
spent
like pleasantries
appeasing
pastime purpose

presently
with serpent’s tongue

through absent blessings
fed to flames
then cleft in twain

on the overhung edge
of our sanity
dissimulated