Tag: poem

Blood Red

They asked me what blood type I have,

I said the type that bleeds

When you break the skin.

I found that out

When I broke the skin.

So go ahead take what you need,

It’s similarly red

And I’ll soon be dead.

– Vagabond Prophet

Carried by the Wind

If you bleed out

Of all our veins,

I’ll still see you

In every drop that rains.

We can fill almost anything

Except this hole inside,

But I filled it once before

I filled it with the tide.

We go nowhere fast

Our swings don’t meet your pars.

I get farther than before

When I look unto your stars.

Our hearts are filled with sorrows

We sing songs of glee,

I find comfort in the rising waves

Of your endless see.

Our roots go so shallow

And we still think we’re ready,

The roots of your trees deeper

They are far more steady.

I find solace in an island

Under the burning sun,

It says I can survive

That there is hope in one.

When I see clouds approaching

I don’t know what they’re bringing

But I know you’ve sent them

To stop my ears ringing.

I looked at these mountains

And to me they have spoken,

They said you’re unshakeable

That you can’t be broken.

With our legs we run and trip

And get our knees skinned,

If we could just stop trying

We’d be carried by your wind.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Another really old one from ten years ago that I found in an old journal. That’s the last oldie I promise.

vagabondprophet:

Unenlightening

I can hear it off the eaves

Drip drip drip.

Distant coyotes,

Yip yip yip.

The darkness and fog

Combine and decide,

Unenlightening.

Tonight we unenlighten.

The rain comes quicker

And thicker than before,

Making soil so fertile

As to be barren.

One dewy drop

Says to another,

“We’re so heavy, full of wet,

Tonight let’s unenlighten.”

That’s when I start to feel,

Along with tobacco smoke

Swirling in my mind,

I’m being unenlightened.

Flipping through your pages

Traditions get unraveled.

With your gold gilded edges,

The unenlightening is frightening.

Contradicting every wisdom

That I’ve ever known.

You put your trust in vagrants,

Rather than royalty.

You talked to strangers

Befriended cheats,

Trusted prostitutes,

Beguiling in the streets.

So I’ll do it I’ll commit,

To break the mold,

To be an idiot,

To become unenlightened.

Rain’s just pouring now,

I’ve just learned up is down,

Meaning we’re all drowning.

I’m the only one who knows.

Thank God for unenlightening.

– Vagabond Prophet

vagabondprophet:

Sleepless Angels

I think the angels lie awake

Holding breath in doubt,

I’ve wondered why before

I think I’ve figured out.

They see some with plenty

But still refuse to give,

To so many in squalor

To just be able to live.

A world with poison in its kiss

And daggers in its eyes

Venom on its lips

And fire in its skies.

The angels wake to nightmares

Too often they weep,

Though these days not much better

They all pray for sleep.

Dreams turn into terrors

As murders seen as choice

They cry and wonder why

The innocent haven’t voice.

We neglect the good God

Until we turn for worst,

We’ve forgotten he’s jealous

It makes saints hearts burst.

The angels cry hot tears

Our God wants us more,

We’ve put him in the corners

When he should be in our core.

They cry at our rebellion

And because we disobey,

They choke on tears

When we run astray.

They stay awake in sadness

When sun shines on our plain,

Because we still waste the land

For which the lamb was slain.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Found this one in an old journal. I wrote this over ten years ago yikes I’m getting old.

Sleepless Angels

I think the angels lie awake

Holding breath in doubt,

I’ve wondered why before

I think I’ve figured out.

They see some with plenty

But still refuse to give,

To so many in squalor

To just be able to live.

A world with poison in its kiss

And daggers in its eyes

Venom on its lips

And fire in its skies.

The angels wake to nightmares

Too often they weep,

Though these days not much better

They all pray for sleep.

Dreams turn into terrors

As murders seen as choice

They cry and wonder why

The innocent haven’t voice.

We neglect the good God

Until we turn for worst,

We’ve forgotten he’s jealous

It makes saints hearts burst.

The angels cry hot tears

Our God wants us more,

We’ve put him in the corners

When he should be in our core.

They cry at our rebellion

And because we disobey,

They choke on tears

When we run astray.

They stay awake in sadness

When sun shines on our plain,

Because we still waste the land

For which the lamb was slain.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Found this one in an old journal. I wrote this over ten years ago yikes I’m getting old.

vagabondprophet:

Balsa Wood

If I could remake you

Out of balsa wood

Would I?

You’d be lighter

Yet strong,

Easily take flight.

The wind would push

Against your wings

And caress your face.

Ascension, descension,

Thrown by the carelessness

Of the air and the sky.

Letting every splinter

Alter your course,

Dancing on the map.

Would you even return,

Fight the current

To come back to me.

I see you in the flesh

And swear

You’re something better

Could I set you free?

Free of the land

And free of me.

Knots and imperfections

Same as now,

But you would fly.

You belong

High above me,

A distant speck.

I can’t make this choice

I’m selfish in my love,

What say You?

Wind filled wingspan?

Or me, simply me,

Pink tongue, white teeth.

I’ll be yours

To hold and kiss,

To wriggle against.

I know it’s a poor choice.

I’ve always ruffled

One too many feathers.

So which is it?

The clouds,

Cotton and dewy.

Or me, simply me

I’ll hold you close

And love you tenderly.

If you wish

I’ll remake you

Out of balsa wood

But know that if

The gale proves too much,

You may return to me

I’d make you safe again

Peeling back every ring

Of that lovely balsa wood.

– Vagabond Prophet

vagabondprophet:

Unenlightening

I can hear it off the eaves

Drip drip drip.

Distant coyotes,

Yip yip yip.

The darkness and fog

Combine and decide,

Unenlightening.

Tonight we unenlighten.

The rain comes quicker

And thicker than before,

Making soil so fertile

As to be barren.

One dewy drop

Says to another,

“We’re so heavy, full of wet,

Tonight let’s unenlighten.”

That’s when I start to feel,

Along with tobacco smoke

Swirling in my mind,

I’m being unenlightened.

Flipping through your pages

Traditions get unraveled.

With your gold gilded edges,

The unenlightening is frightening.

Contradicting every wisdom

That I’ve ever known.

You put your trust in vagrants,

Rather than royalty.

You talked to strangers

Befriended cheats,

Trusted prostitutes,

Beguiling in the streets.

So I’ll do it I’ll commit,

To break the mold,

To be an idiot,

To become unenlightened.

Rain’s just pouring now,

I’ve just learned up is down,

Meaning we’re all drowning.

I’m the only one who knows.

Thank God for unenlightening.

– Vagabond Prophet

vagabondprophet:

Unenlightening

I can hear it off the eaves

Drip drip drip.

Distant coyotes,

Yip yip yip.

The darkness and fog

Combine and decide,

Unenlightening.

Tonight we unenlighten.

The rain comes quicker

And thicker than before,

Making soil so fertile

As to be barren.

One dewy drop

Says to another,

“We’re so heavy, full of wet,

Tonight let’s unenlighten.”

That’s when I start to feel,

Along with tobacco smoke

Swirling in my mind,

I’m being unenlightened.

Flipping through your pages

Traditions get unraveled.

With your gold gilded edges,

The unenlightening is frightening.

Contradicting every wisdom

That I’ve ever known.

You put your trust in vagrants,

Rather than royalty.

You talked to strangers

Befriended cheats,

Trusted prostitutes,

Beguiling in the streets.

So I’ll do it I’ll commit,

To break the mold,

To be an idiot,

To become unenlightened.

Rain’s just pouring now,

I’ve just learned up is down,

Meaning we’re all drowning.

I’m the only one who knows.

Thank God for unenlightening.

– 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..