Has spring sprung yet?
Does it still lie coiled up awaiting its cue?
A cobra watching for opportunity to strike.
I saw the hills over yonder whisper,
“Come hither”
To the clouds above
And become crowned in icing sugar once again.
– Vagabond Prophet
Tag: creative writing
Southeast is my favourite direction today.
Notice the frost and sunshine married for an instant,
Before the warmth overcomes the cold
Like an insect bride, consummating conqueror that she is.
– Vagabond Prophet
Everything
You’re shapeless and that’s hard sometimes
I try to picture you and my mind just swirls
Like cream poured slowly into coffee.
This one thing helps,
That you’ve shaped everything I’ve ever loved.
Every contour and edge,
All the care and strength transcendent.
Everything captures much,
Nothing escapes that net called “everything”
Except you.
– Vagabond Prophet
Not Even Clouds
All week long, frigid mornings
And warm afternoons,
Cold sweats,
Hot sweats.
Thursday comes and it’s time
To wisen up, no coat
Just my experience and hope
To keep me warm until the P.M.
That’s the day that mother nature
Couldn’t hold it any longer,
Leaking out so rapidly
Not even clouds could absorb
Before soaking me through.
– Vagabond Prophet
Mulled Wine
How have your teeth
Not yet dissolved
Like sugar cubes
In sweet mulled wine?
How have your legs
Not yet gone brittle
From upholding
So fearsome a beauty?
How has your mind
Not yet shattered
From containing
Such brilliance?
How have your fingers
Not yet liquefied
From writing stories
Like a flash flood?
– Vagabond Prophet
Thirty Two
Thirty Two years old
And he’s really gone.
Body beautifully adorned
And underground.
What now life?
What will you do now?
Will you strike me down
Or make me endure this?
Future I can’t see
Evasive and ever changing,
The past never changes
But tortures every moment.
The present sharpens
And blunts me
In equal measure,
Useless for every task at hand.
How will I scrape
Out an existence,
If grief sands me down
To a featureless stone.
Blunt and sharp in equal measure,
Useless for every task at hand.
– Vagabond Prophet
Age well, age poorly
See if I care,
You’ll still just be more you
Sweetening my air.
Vagabond Prophet
I always wanted to be the kind of man
Who said more with his silence,
Yet I talk too damn much
Like the gamblers at gas stations week after week
Hoping that one day it’ll all work out.
Vagabond Prophet
Fevers
Some ailments don’t give fevers
Some wounds don’t leave scars.
I know a scant amount of faith
Can break down devils,
And too much may just suffice
To keep me level.
By grace and grace alone
I’ve been saved
From having everything
That I’ve ever wanted.
– Vagabond Prophet
Would a tired panda look any different? Or would it just look the same, kind of like how that wishbone of yours looks just like a backbone.
Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 