Original Poetry about anything and everything.
Accents are hard
The R’s never end
And the understanding
Never begins.
So thick as to be spread
On the barrier between,
More mortar for the wall.
But when she spoke to me
In an uncommon tongue,
In the dialect of my soul
It was all over for me.
You were destined to invade
To lay claim to my heart
Shocking me into perfect communion
With wonder dripping from your lips.
– Vagabond Prophet
Said you don’t want to move to Seattle,
That’s fine you’ve got enough rain
Falling off your disdain
For anybody just a little different.
Don’t judge a book by it’s cover
But I can’t help but wonder at the scars
On this man saying he lives in cars,
Who’d design a cover that way?
Dad will they have a happy ending?
With such a sad middle.
Thinking, thumbs mid twiddle,
“Son avert your eyes.”
No real answer
Just don’t think about it.
It works as long as you forget
That each person is a story.
Dad if you’d just turn a few pages
Look past the cover,
See he’s a lover
With no flowers left to give.
– Vagabond Prophet
Blood in different hues
Red’s coming from blues
Deep scarlets
And shallow crimsons.
Life stories in different shades,
Humour like strawberries,
Regret like beets,
Pride bright as the robins chest.
Dozens of you lying there
Blood pulsing through those tubes,
A colour wheel crafted by disease.
– Vagabond Prophet
I can smell vanity a mile away,
Like a festering wound covered up
In finest perfume and cleverest shadows.
Some things ought to rot
Be swept away and sucked under.
If you could live forever
Would you really want to?
The promise of death is a blessing.
I’ll be vile enough a creature
In eighty long years.
I don’t want to meet the person
Who’s hitched a thousand rides
Around the sun, insistent it’s still fun.
– Vagabond Prophet
Has spring sprung yet?
Does it still lie coiled up awaiting its cue?
A cobra watching for opportunity to strike.
I saw the hills over yonder whisper,
“Come hither”
To the clouds above
And become crowned in icing sugar once again.
– Vagabond Prophet
Southeast is my favourite direction today.
Notice the frost and sunshine married for an instant,
Before the warmth overcomes the cold
Like an insect bride, consummating conqueror that she is.
– Vagabond Prophet
You’re shapeless and that’s hard sometimes
I try to picture you and my mind just swirls
Like cream poured slowly into coffee.
This one thing helps,
That you’ve shaped everything I’ve ever loved.
Every contour and edge,
All the care and strength transcendent.
Everything captures much,
Nothing escapes that net called “everything”
Except you.
– Vagabond Prophet
All week long, frigid mornings
And warm afternoons,
Cold sweats,
Hot sweats.
Thursday comes and it’s time
To wisen up, no coat
Just my experience and hope
To keep me warm until the P.M.
That’s the day that mother nature
Couldn’t hold it any longer,
Leaking out so rapidly
Not even clouds could absorb
Before soaking me through.
– Vagabond Prophet
Thirty Two years old
And he’s really gone.
Body beautifully adorned
And underground.
What now life?
What will you do now?
Will you strike me down
Or make me endure this?
Future I can’t see
Evasive and ever changing,
The past never changes
But tortures every moment.
The present sharpens
And blunts me
In equal measure,
Useless for every task at hand.
How will I scrape
Out an existence,
If grief sands me down
To a featureless stone.
Blunt and sharp in equal measure,
Useless for every task at hand.
– Vagabond Prophet
I always wanted to be the kind of man
Who said more with his silence,
Yet I talk too damn much
Like the gamblers at gas stations week after week
Hoping that one day it’ll all work out.
Vagabond Prophet 