Original Poetry about anything and everything.
Sometimes not enough,
Others far too many.
Twenty four hours in a day.
Wake up bright and ready to live!
Sometimes dragging this husk around
One day closer to decay.
Life can be so taxing
And hurt just too much,
For days end I pray.
Life can be so wonderful
Full of joy and I don’t want
The end of today.
So tomorrow bring me vigor
And a thickening of skin
To become good clay.
Twenty four hours
Again coming to a close,
I just need your promise
To bring me twenty four more.
– Vagabond Prophet
Sometimes I need to dilute the air I breath with smoke. It’s just too fresh for someone as tarnished as I am.
Salt trucks driving all around
Spraying just about everywhere,
If you’re from a warm place
You might not understand.
Here salt preserves
Even lives sometimes.
– Vagabond Prophet
Do you want to travel?
We can grab the moon
As it spins by tonight.
We’ll see every city light
Until our dreams are flooded
With all that neon light.
– Vagabond Prophet
Red frames around brown eyes
Like black coffee but sweeter.
Eyes focused pondering
How to get your heart out
Through your fingertips.
Oh sweetheart don’t forget
You have my heart too,
Maybe that ink will thin
More easily.
I’ve always been
A little more fluid in February.
– Vagabond Prophet
Looking for inspiration when you’re sitting right in front of me. I can be so stupid sometimes.
What is a writer?
A thoughtsmith
Shaping words
With heat and strength
Into something you can wield.
Sometimes a sword
Sometimes a candlestick.
A poet much the same
But more nonsensical,
Like a soldier
Who dances into battle.
No less effective
Just different.
If you do it well enough
It can be understood
In every language
Like “Coffee” or “Mama”,
And maybe just maybe
Make people wonder
If we’re made for something different.
– Vagabond Prophet
Bright and early
Brown eyed and tempestuous,
You flicker and burn
Like embers in the wind.
Disaster yearns at dawn
I better get this boy breakfast
And delay the apocalypse
Just one more day.
– Vagabond Prophet
Yesterday was rain
With polkadot asphalt,
The wind made a current
Sky turned white
And slowly descended.
Today is different
Frosty little tidbits
Floating down to earth.
Earth shivers at its touch
Just like a first kiss.
Liquid becomes solid
At the gentleness
Of your touch.
And you say to me,
“I colour the ground,
To remind you I’m around.”
– Vagabond Prophet
If even milk can die
And turn into something great
What does that say of me?
In my current state.
If fruit can perish
Turning into wine
Give strength to my gut,
But not straight off the vine.
Okay you’ve made it clear
I’ll undergo the transformation,
I’ll die and die again
Is this truly salvation?
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 