Original Poetry about anything and everything.
That word ‘aftermath’
Conjuring images of bombs
And rubble and fallout
Of a nuclear kind.
Could it be different?
Let’s make it different
Must act now
There is no rewind.
Aftermath of kindness,
Fallout of justice
Desperately needed
In a land dying to unwind.
– Vagabond Prophet
Hot or cold
Mild or bold
Wet or dry
Make a decision already!
You circle around the globe
Trying to ‘find’ yourself,
What you should be
When you come to fruition.
Circumlocution embodied,
You try on every outfit
And voice every thought
Over and over
For thirty whole days.
It’s like this every year,
You can’t make up your mind
To stay in the past
Or leap to the summer.
Yet May always comes
To usher April out of the room.
– Vagabond Prophet
Daddy’s home yay!
They cry from the top of the stairs
Wearing dresses and suits
From dancing with each other.
“Daddy, want to watch us dance?”
They spin and spin
Just like the vinyl on the turntable.
“Daddy want to see my super jump?”
“Daddy you need to shave,
Your cheeks are all scratchy.”
These are the things I live for,
Not praise but simply speech
From sweetest voices
Wanting nothing but my attention.
So I’ll watch them orbit the living room,
I’ll keep my cheeks all smooth,
For I am their daddy, and they my children
And they love me, it’s terrifying but it’s true.
They really love me.
– Vagabond Prophet
Through tempest spurned
And fury turned
On a meadow swathed in white.
Lightning rods attracting
The wrath of heaven acting
Shot forth onto dry grass.
Kindlings always destined
To burn up, never questioned
No dreams of an unscorched future.
To smoulder away
Paving the way
For those that will burn brighter.
– Vagabond Prophet
Warmer weather
Thinner leather
Winds touch becomes
More bearable.
As I shed my coat
I’m surrounded by a moat
Daytimes gaze
Embrace from every side.
Vagabond Prophet
I used to believe
In true love and soulmates,
Now I know it false.
It’s true she’s my mate
And that she has my soul
But I chose her
And she chose me.
No accident no ‘falling in’
Like slipping in mud
Or slowly going mad.
Providence played a part
To be sure
But our choices are
What define us.
No smoky bar
Or mystic circumstance
Just she and me
Opposite sides of a dirty couch.
A choice we still
Make every day
When life is lovely
When life is ghastly.
Our couch is still stained
A reminder of our promises.
– Vagabond Prophet
How quickly I became bankrupt
In the absence of yourself,
I didn’t know until I left you forlorn
Abandoned in the far reaches of the echo
That I’d been living cup to cup
For a love now gone cold.When I return let there yet be
Some faint embers left in which
We can partake.
Vagabond Prophet
– This is what happens when a guy like me forgets his coffee at home before work starts.
Do you find your hope groping in the dark
Sloping and waning
While the moon is waxing?
As though all your innermost dreams
And thoughts you hold most dear
Had been paraded through the streets
With mocking and jeering and spitting.
Come with me I say
The revolution starts with us.
Our lights have been put out too often
Wicks go sizzle between The Man’s greasy fingers.
All those people with nothing to offer
But their hearts in ink dots
Or paint swaths
Or sound waves.
Get a real job! They say.
But the art in our veins,
Make life worth living
And it’s so hard to strip it off.
Like the bark of a tree
That without will surely die,
So it would be with us
If we amputate our muse.
Protect your light!
At all costs defend it!
I’ll stand by your side
I’ll have your back.
Let’s have our cake and eat it too,
We’re going to need two cakes.
At least.
At least.
At least.
As all artists know,
The bare minimum is the foundation
For something great.
– Vagabond Prophet
My story not too tragic
Not terribly traumatic,
Except for the traumatic bit.
I’ve not known poverty
I’ve not known hunger,
I’m intelligent and able bodied.
Yet I feel as though life
Is harder than it should be
And after all these years
Jason Wade has said it best,
“I need you now
There’s too many miles on my bones
I can’t carry the weight of the world
No, not on my own”
So there it is, that terrible truth.
Nice to know I’m not the only one
Who walks with this weight
So burdensome and heavy.
Yet by the end of song there’s hope,
“No more heartache, no more fighting
No more fears, only flying”
Thanks for spinning fears into verses,
Matching my heartbeat to a drum beat
And singing it out loud
In that low gravelly voice of yours.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Quotes from the song ‘Flight’ by Lifehouse, who Jason Wade is the singer of.
In some cultures legends
The killing blow of a previous life.
Some say stork bites, other say nothing at all.
My father, myself, my son and daughter
All have the same one.
Strawberry stain on the neck.
Were we rebels in France
And all got the guillotine?
Or all facing firing squads
For crimes against the crown?
I can hide it with my hair
But of the truth I am aware,
I see it in everything
Even in this birthmark.
I am a blemished and imperfect sacrifice
And you, you were perfect lacking nothing
And took upon yourself, every killing blow.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 