Tag: creativity

vagabondprophet:

Heart on My Sleeve?

I wanted to put my heart

On the cuff of my sleeve,

But there wasn’t one.

I’ve no shirt today,

No sleeves to be found

How will you read me plain?

Here take my heart

I’ll let you keep it

Please hold it true.

Cherish it with joy

Keep it safe,

Put it in your pocket.

And if you say

“I’ve no pocket,

Or even pants to speak of.”

Then hold it in your mind,

As naked both of us,

Are already one.

– Vagabond Prophet

Solitary Refinement Chapter 29

vagabondprophet:

Dear Joshua     April 26th 2018

It’s official I’m the worst father ever. Alister’s birthday was two months ago and I forgot! I was so busy looking over my shoulder and worried about hidden intentions from every face I pass I forgot my own sons birthday! Can you believe that? I have so much credit from work now I could have gotten him a whole stack of books, if Liz would let him have it of course. I feel like such shit that I did that, I’ve been sweating every minute of every day on account of the fear I feel, like it’s in my blood, or in my eyes. That cave entrance again, every mirror I look at. Everything I’ve been going through, all the weight I’ve lost and how scrawny and pale and bloodshot I’ve become doesn’t excuse this. What can I do now though, hope Alister forgives me? I don’t doubt he will, he knows by now I’m not reachable to him. As far as hoping Liz forgives me for forgetting it, I guess I can just add it to the damn pile of things I hope she one day forgives me for.

At least I’m still alive, I haven’t slept a wink since the night he first came at me. Every day at breakfast lunch and dinner he sits across from me now. If I get up to move he just follows. He looks me straight in the eyes as he eats his food. He ends every such time with a single word, “Tonight.”

Tonight?! Tonight what? Like I don’t know. He’s been doing this for a week, knowing I’m not sleeping. Sadistic bastard just wants to see me squirm. The things I’ve been brainstorming are insane, different ways to kill someone with a knife. I swiped another one from the kitchen. I didn’t bother with a broken one but rather a nice big sharp one. I just grabbed it when the instructor wasn’t looking. I keep it under my pillow now in case Kal takes the first knife, the one he met the other night.

Trevor too, shit Trevor. Yesterday he told me he won’t be able to babysit me anymore. I ignored the offense of the statement and simply asked him why.

“I don’t want to, I just don’t want to. Protect yourself you wimp.”

And when I pleaded him to keep me safe from Kal and told him what had happened he just backhanded me hard. I’ve got a real nice bruise on my right cheek now.

Can you come visit me? I’ve noticed the weather is crazy but could you try? I saw from the yard that some trees out by the road had fallen over by the wind and that the clouds looked pretty sinister. It might be the last chance you get I have no idea what the future holds but I know the face of a friend would be a welcome site.

A.N. So close! Leave me some words please!

Ode

vagabondprophet:

If I could beat a drum

By just thinking

I’d be marching to a different beat.

And if I could sound off a riff

Just by skipping a step

I’d solo down the street.

If I could hum

And have cellos sing

I’d waltz everywhere.

Then I met you,

Like instruments unknown

Your sound and presence baffling.

Beyond imagination

Or composition of will,

Ode to Heaven itself.

– Vagabond Prophet

Model Cars

vagabondprophet:

Monday nights were for building model cars

Showing me how paint thinner

Thins even skin

Effortlessly.

My favourite number, yours

My favourite music, yours

My favourite colour, yours

So much that is me was you.

Then you left,

So I guess that’s what family does

First our father

Then my brothers.

Now I’m here,

Leaky gutters

And a leaky mind

And a sister and a mom.

I didn’t know how

To knit any of it

Back together,

All my teachers vanished.

– Vagabond Prophet

When Kids are in Trouble and Dad is a Writer

vagabondprophet:

You have disobeyed

And this is what you’ve wrought

You shall feel

The full weight of my wrath.

I have sojourned here

At speeds illegal

I am pregnant with displeasure

At your little mutiny.

Thought to stage a coup?

How cute.

Your maliciousness inherited

Diluted, inexperienced.

I’ve reduced men to tears

With naught but words,

Now they’re pointing at you

What say you!?

I’ve shattered souls

With a lonely syllable.

This little rebellion of yours,

Adorable.

In me that blood

Is at full strength

Seething, writhing, searching,

I reign it in always.

But not today

For you have incurred

The full arsenal

Of my fury.

When you’re older

We’ll rebel together

Against forces unjust,

But today thou shalt suffer.

You will scrub and sweep

You will repent

You miscreant you,

You will beg for rest before days end.

I love you so

And this is how

I show it today,

To insure tomorrow is different.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Cotton Parades

vagabondprophet:

The way that roots intertwine

Gripping everything together

Clawing through the dirt

To get every bit of moisture.

The way the sky supports clouds

Those dewy cotton parades

Gently pushing them along

For everyone to see.

The way that feathers

In their elevated splendour,

Carry the weight

Of the creature they carry.

Will you support me

Or carry

Or push me along

Similarly?

If a crutch can push against

The ground to help a man

Move his broken body

To and fro.

If a paddle

Can direct the eb and flow

To choose its course

In that vastness of wet.

If I can collect vapour

In little rivulets

And sustain my spirit

With its freshness.

Then surely you so great

Can support me so weak,

A fool puddle jumping

In gasoline.

Could you make me porous

To absorb your spirit

As it soaks into

Every crag and fissure.

Like a tall and ancient mountain

That’s watched every single sunrise,

Would you keep me from crumbling

To just witness you longer.

I’ll happily borrow strength

I have none of my own,

I just want to know you better

To love you more fully.

– Vagabond Prophet

Frigid

vagabondprophet:

The wind bites my face

And I know that’s your embrace

But it hurts,

Must you be so cold?

I make a hot cup of something

See I’ve got an answer for everything,

As usual I’m either too smart

Or too dumb.

I don’t even know which

It changes like a switch,

So let the wind bite my face

And make my legs go numb.

Let me stay stranded in the cold

No choice but to be bold,

When I’m captured by your might

Captivated by frightful beauty.

Make your frosty tongue

Climb every rung

And run piercing

Through every passageway.

Don’t give me a way out

Don’t make it a fair bout,

Call me to yourself

Grip me firmly.

Take me in your hand

Put on me your brand

Enchant me with

Your frigid brilliance.

– Vagabond Prophet