Tag: poetpardy

Flat Earth

Dipped in water and then oil

Not knowing how to mix with myself.

Sometimes you have to re-break the bone

To get it set right.

Wide asleep

When the vines that creep

Pull me under,

I hear beasts within and without,

I hear claws upon the door

At most unholy hours.

I am the peacock with need so dire

To prove itself just once,

I am the rhinoceros with steepest spire

Upon my face betraying lies.

I am the tiger saying its for camouflage

But it was always about ego,

Nobody else has this colour scheme.

Here’s the truth that chills in July:

If we spoke before The Tower of Babel

We might understand each other,

However in this post Babel era

I only mix the shadows of words together

Rendering the truest shade of grey.

I miss the days of old

When the earth was flat,

Stars on the same level.

When I could run full speed

And have flames engulf my need

Stripping off the laquer

The feathers, the horns, the stripes.

The earth is round, but slowly

You’re bending it back

Back to how it was,

Running gets easier as the slope

Promises to lessen in time,

And though I’m dumbfounded

I’m finally finding sanctuary.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “Finding Sanctuary” I hope this makes some kind of sense.

Ajar

Moonlight on my skin

Lengthening shadows of twilight

When the windshield caved in

As steel on steel screeched an emergency.

The sound of everything

Grating on everything else

When greens became reds too early

And the deep roots

Of hopeful pursuits

Came crashing into me.

The police came to collect stories

And the door ajar

Sounding into the night

It’s persistent plight.

Nerves steady as milk

On the verge of sour

For a while after that.

Took months for them

To be rigid again.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “A door ajar.” Not very happy with this but there it is.

Let’s get burned
Let’s get frozen
Let’s be rabbit trails
Long grown over.

Transformed into fire by
The licking of the flame,
Isolated into ice
By frost that aims to mame.

Roots pierce through
This stony heart
All to begin anew.

Allow the elements not to defeat you
But to become you for a purpose
That was always above us all.

Vagabond Prophet

What goes up must come down,
Are we so sure?
The world has never been that balanced
Always heavy at the blade.

It’s true that for every child
Born with a silver spoon
There is a child born
With silver handcuffs,
But not all things come down.

Such as my hopes
Of growing old with you
They are way up high
And won’t be coming down soon.

Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Echo

Ballroom facades and finest outfits

Simple memories overshadowed by

Champagne flourishes and caviar bribery.

Egos bigger than themselves

To make doorways feel smaller

And double breasted suits

For men with no hearts at all.

Shouts and cries and squeals of glee

Shrouded by the rules of a dance

Performed by thousands before.

It’s not your dance, it’s not ours

They’re the steps given to us

That we now run away from.

We sprint into the rain

Shining gown gets soaked

And I see the skin beneath

Puckered and upset

With what the weather does beget.

Now we can shout

And finally find our voice!

Find a cave and scream out loud

For echoes never lie

Never amplifying or altering

Never adding or subtracting

Just your exact words again.

Forget the champagne and caviar,

Leave your fingerprints in the earth

Let forests, mountains, and caves

Remember the way you sound.

Your utterances indelibly pressed

Into rocks hitherto undented

They will always scream right back

Not holding onto your love

But giving and receiving in equal measure.

Don’t be silent don’t let thoughts

Go unspoken forever

Don’t make the stones wait for your song

Like a mother with a son at war

Waiting for his return

Only to receive a flag,

And a thank you for the blood.

Echoes always tell the truth

The most discerning of sleuths

They always detect a voice

Even in those who

Thought they’d lost theirs

Amongst the magnified silence

Of ballroom masquerades.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “The true meaning of an echo.” Hope everybody enjoys it.

Prompt Day 12

vagabondprophet:

I don’t see many people these days,

There lights blind my eyes

I run and I hide.

My name is Aurora

Come north come at dark

And I’ll dance for you

Through the night.

My flowy dress twirls outwards

And my hair changes colours

You’ve never seen before.

My fingers writing stories in the sky

In a language long forgotten.

I see my face reflected

In the great lakes,

I really am radiant

And wanting to share my beauty.

I want somebody to talk to,

Somebody to sing to,

Somebody to quarrel with.

Come further north, further still

Bring no light of your own

For I’ll light our lives enough,

And you’ll only diminish me.

– Vagabond Prophet

Countenance

In the countenance of today

There’s no smallest measure

Of reprieve or leisure.

The thread between

My thoughts and reactions

Growing taut from lengthening distance.

Dangling from the precipice

Which separates simple exhaustion

From madness.

People ask me

Why do I do this?

Why do I clutch to sleep deprivation

And reject  wakefulness, rest,

And energy honestly come by.

I say to be creative is risky,

But to abstain is more so.

– Vagabond Prophet