Tag: evening thoughts

Peek-A-Boo

Formed me from clay

And left me here to stay

My lungs drew their inaugural breath

Signaling I was my own

I am a force

I have a voice.

Now the lengths I have gone

To use that power, to use this voice

In ways never intended.

How does this make sense of you?

When everything I’ve said untrue

How can I climb my way to truth

With feet that have only been uncouth,

Kicking thorns into your skull

Until the stone rolled away

And you brought a brand new day.

What act of devotion

Could I do to prove,

What pilgrimage could I take

And die along the path,

What trophy could I earn

To prove how much I love you

To prove how much I thank you

For making this blind man see.

As I sit here and ponder

My thoughts begin to wander

To when you gripped my hand

And pulled me from the muck.

Maybe it was the Midas touch

That had made the boat finally sink,

The rapacious attempts to better myself

With the pleasures and leisures of the world.

I had begun to think of myself as dead

As a blackened heart whose rosy cheeks

Had not yet realized that the blood

Pumped into them was damned

Polluted and meant for the grave.

I actually believed my transgression

Was too great, outweighing your grace!

How foolish was I?

Did you laugh?

Did you snicker at my childishness?

Before you pulled back the veil

In this high stakes peek-a-boo

To whisper to my soul “Here I am.”

You lovely source of true delight

You safest place amidst the plight

How fully you dismantled my delusions,

How quickly I became aware

It was never your grace that was small

But rather my faith.

A single thought of yours so spacious

I could occupy it for a century

And never find its borders,

I could spend summer after summer

Diving into those waters

And never plumb their depths.

I needed to see myself for what I was

For the monster I was becoming

Before you could save me,

For what man thinking himself complete

Would take a helping hand?

It wasn’t until the storms outside

Mirrored the ones within

And you calmed them with a word,

That I thought to come to you.

Now I pray for others

The ones I would call brothers,

That if they ever leave the zoo

And find all the beasts

That don’t live in cages

The beasts that pound and scratch

Their way through the echoing halls

Of each and every soul,

That they would call for help

Against those deadly baffling foes

And you always faithful to answer

Would smother all their woes.

– Vagabond Prophet

Pavement Pillow

The edges bleed on everything

When it rains this hard,

It seems the world is weeping.

To staunch the flow

We have to work together

To pray for warmer weather

For those who get their lullabies

Whispered from whatever

The cracked pavement pillow

Speaks to them tonight.

– Vagabond Prophet

Open Maws

With the urgency of

A green light turning red

I steal away to this desk.

This pen a knife

Carves into my sleep,

A peculiar creature is me

That my ideal starting point is this.

All the classic tales

Of girls in cloaks

Of wolves in night gowns

Taught me nothing,

I had to learn for myself.

If I couldn’t write

I’d be plunged into night.

I have to sharpen my own claws

And cut my own teeth

It is the hour I face my wolf

And we both have open maws.

– Vagabond Prophet

By Rote

This is exhaustion

This is where my mind hibernates

And my arms and legs

By rote accomplish much.

No path less traveled

Was ever tread by rote

No trails blazed by bravery

Ever made half aware.

Shock me with lightning

Make my smile frightening

Scatter the bones of the strong

Into the soil of the weak,

Inferior they rise

With nobody paying any mind.

With banners high

And sharpened spears

Remembering the pain

Throughout all the years.

Though these thoughts may abate

My soul I prostrate

Riddle me with tumors

Spread vicious rumors

Leave me torn asunder

From every past blunder.

– Vagabond Prophet

Armed Guards

Shipwrecked on a shore

Of feral condemnation

From every corner of the nation,

Combing every grain of sand

To find some remnant

Of your past life.

They think you’re unconscious

But you hear the whispers,

“Why are we bothering,

Can’t we let him slip

Through the cracks of our care?

Should we slip some

Intravenous fear to finish him off?”

I know not why you fill that bed

Or why your breach of protocol

Has the hallway outside

Filled with more armed guards

Then I can count on one hand.

The endlessness

Of your listlessness

And your breathlessness

That keeps draughting

Maskful after maskful

Of precious oxygen.

The threat of whip and lash

If you manage to leave

In cuffs rather than a bag.

There is value in sweat

And valour in tears,

Do you know these things?

Or only preyed upon that fact?

I don’t know

I can’t know.

I know that

The words tied to your name

Are not yet set in stone

Not carved into your bone.

The consequence

Of confidence

Is responsibility,

Is it a mantle

You’re prepared for?

Is this even your fault?

Are you one of those sad ones

Born with a convoluted tubule

Connecting ear to brain

Always twisting the truth,

Like a game of telephone

The message constantly misshapen.

Were lies only passed through your hands,

But licking all those envelopes

Your tongue stuck

To the roof of your mouth

Making truthful speech impossible?

Now having cried so many tears

The sea mistakes you

For part of itself

And heeds not your cries for help.

Though what they say could be true

That you released quivering bullets

From a quaking hand,

Don’t let the ticking of the clock

Be the author of your days.

Remember when good news

Wears camouflage

And bad news wears neon

That I’d still lend an ear.

After this one simple question,

If you could relive your life

Would you ruin it

In a brand new way?

These are questions we share

For ourselves, for our souls.

What else do we share?

Do we share a blood type?

Could your A+’s

Meet my O-’s

And make a different alphabet,

Where the words tied to your name

Don’t anchor you the same?

– Vagabond Prophet

Thank you so much @josy57 for prompting me with “The words tied to your name.” 

More hospital related poetry for everybody, or as I like to call it…

Antiseptic verse

Enjoy.

Pounds Per Week


I am awake when I should be asleep

I am awake when I should be awake,

I save resting for the space between stanzas.

For I read these thoughts aloud

To a vast and dusty crowd

That claps and cheers me on

From the PM to the AM and back again.

I should close these eyes right now

But with stalwart rhythm this mind churns on

And the quill moves more eloquently

If I keep this blue gaze fixed

On a white page inked black.

Perpetual sleeplessness is my vocation,

Though no references save the coffee vendor

That weighs me out in pounds per week,

You should know I am a professional

And I will not burnout, for this backlog of dreams

Demands vigilance of this exact kind.

– Vagabond Prophet

Campfire Thoughts

Heat taking form so long

As it has something to climb

And eyes to sting.

Standing on the shoulders

Of noble planks gone black

In the name of warmth,

In the name of romance,

In the name of mesmerizing

Souls like mine for hours on end.

Quieting and emptying

A restless mind.

Oh to surrender to that

Unstoppable goodness

So much harder than evil

Which always molds to your fancy.

– Vagabond Prophet