Patchwork

The thoughts you can’t admit

Not even to yourself

So you leave them on the shelf.

In the basement I sat

Watching grown men

Circling the den.

Fighting their conditioning

Laying souls bare

Making all aware.

Instead of resentment

So very feared

Found themselves endeared.

This quilt of souls laid bare

Patches of success

Patches of failure

Somehow keeps us warm.

– Vagabond Prophet

Another Scotch

vagabondprophet:

When the little hand hits twelve

On the face of my watch,

I’ll get off this chair

And pour another scotch.

Yellow and sweet

In a vicious kind of way,

Taking down fences

Ferrel words at end of day.

In the morning it’s coffee

I’ll be electrically afflicted

I bounce between these tonics

When my words are constricted.

The right words never come

My mind held on a scale,

Swatted like a horsefly

Tossed by the gale.

Buzzing energetic,

All business and astute,

Or brilliant in my torpor

But wordless as a brute.

This erratic crazed ballet

Doesn’t really help,

Should make better choices,

Kale, beets, and kelp

If my habits are nonsensical

If you could call me crazy,

I’m halfway to genius

At least I’m not lazy.

– Vagabond Prophet

          – Not going to lie, I was trying to write something else and it wasn’t working so I wrote this about writers block..

Tapeworm

Life is winter

Life is pain

By enduring

You may gain,

A chill so haunting

A love so daunting

It stands above

Swaying ponderously.

Awaiting consent

For it’s descent

To crush you completely

And make you anew.

To smother your spark

Leave it in dark

A reluctant tapeworm

Extracted by force.

Replaced with a germ

Expanding and firm

To fill you with hope

The truest love you’ve known.

– Vagabond Prophet