Tag: poetry riot

Redundancy

I’ve been little else but lawless

Little else but wayward,

In the redundancy

Of my delinquency

How do you not grow tired?

When you’ve been little else but lovely

Little else but gracious

In the insistency

Of your consistency,

Please don’t end or waiver

For I need you so.

– Vagabond Prophet

Hidden Wings

Let your blue eyes shine

Let our hands entwine

For I delight in you

And everything you do.

You who came from heaven

With hidden wings,

You better things

With the vigor of your stance

When you roar when you prance.

Though you give me trouble

You’ll shake the earth to rubble,

You’ll end things abrupt

That you see corrupt.

With every glittering smile

My heart jumps a mile

Jump and travel

The length of my stride

My girl you’ve embodied

All of my pride.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

For our girl on her birthday.

Shaken awake by sun rays

Piercing curtains piercing dreams

As the balloon pops to remind me

Life is on its way.

Rushing without sirens

Some emergencies announce themselves

When your stomach enters the room

Before your tongue.

Now in the recycled air

Of the bloodless lair

Where the sterile everything

Instructed my body

How to be itself.

All the faces went blank

When the pushing yielded little

And the little one turned.

Drapes pulled up

So I couldn’t see

Them cut into me,

Poorly upholstered tragedy.

I heard no cry for my breast

I saw no quivering lip,

Now screaming in his stead

I grabbed the knife and threatened

Them to uphold the life

I’d so carefully procured.

Code white bled into pink

And tiny black blankets

Wheel away my dreams.

Thoughts of different futures

Feel like pulling out sutures

From the scar that I still bare.

– Vagabond Prophet

– I heard over the intercom system a code white in the OR, and then right afterwards a code pink in the OR. There are only so many procedures with a conscious patient. This is what my brain did to fill in the gaps of my knowledge.

Televise

Gone are the days

Where groping in the dark

You’d find a dangling root

To pull yourself out

Of those churning waters.

You’ll find no part

Of me to cling to

You can choke and sputter

You can shriek and utter

Those desperate last gasps.

All the while arms crossed

Just waiting for that

Last bubble of life

To disturb the surface.

You were a natural predator

Already plucking the best parts of me

While I was yet lacing up my boots.

Things we’ll never agree on

What is good what is evil

What could bring me joy

What could leave me in ruins.

You brought the thinnest of smiles

To cover the broadest of lies,

The cataracts in my eyes

You put there I despise.

Knowing the power of words

I know yours mean nothing,

We once were close

And would walk towards disaster

Holding hands intertwined.

Now the hatred

The righteous rage

The resolution

To burn and cut your roots,

Now I’d televise my secrets

To get you just a little

Further away from me.

Though I have adorned 

Your treachery with poetry

Don’t mistake it for forgiveness.

– Vagabond Prophet

“What we’ll never agree on”, the wonderful prompt given me by @josy57. Thanks pal!

Open Maws

With the urgency of

A green light turning red

I steal away to this desk.

This pen a knife

Carves into my sleep,

A peculiar creature is me

That my ideal starting point is this.

All the classic tales

Of girls in cloaks

Of wolves in night gowns

Taught me nothing,

I had to learn for myself.

If I couldn’t write

I’d be plunged into night.

I have to sharpen my own claws

And cut my own teeth

It is the hour I face my wolf

And we both have open maws.

– Vagabond Prophet

Myopic Quest

Running on the pier looking down

The gaps between boards

Like a cartoon flip book

Of shells and tides,

Sand and hills

Of seaweed and salt,

I speed past with curious

And quick steps.

I want to be grown!

Where my long legs can close the distance

Between myself and my longing

What’s the ending of this book

That unravels with each stride?

Now in pitch black mornings

Only lights come from

The neighbours kitchen,

She’s too early getting ready

For a lonely commute

Thick with too many

Other lonely commuters.

And so am I.

Now I want to be a child again

To have the freedom

To speculate every step,

Instead of insuring my marching

Is in time with the others.

Though these scenes juxtapose

I spray both with a hose

For now I know best

In this myopic quest,

The answer is devotion

Love and intention

The grass is greenest

On the side it gets watered.

– Vagabond Prophet

Hey @josy57 ! Yeah you, thanks for the prompt ‘myopic quest,’ I enjoyed this.

Sky Wading

Late September morn

Only darkness and fog worn

Can’t see what shape

Sky thinks to take

For it’s too low

And I wade through it.

Come sun burn it up

Leave it scorched

And fling it back up

To the stars it belongs amongst.

– Vagabond Prophet

Outside the palliative care home

Walking through a descending sky

By hallowed ground

Some hope I’ve found.

Here where weakness strikes

Right where fissures

Are likely to fracture

Falling apart revealing every flaw.

Here where you only qualify

To be here if you’re dying

And only leave when you’re dead.

The doctors skill is in diagnosis,

Never treating the disease.

It’s true that given the choice

Between sugar and truth

I’ll choose truth still

The gasoline aftertaste reminding

The importance of tact,

But not in honestys stead.

But look, examine where

These trenches have led me,

The tracks my train

Of thought has traveled

Have brought me here.

I am reminded that

There are yet things that grow

In the darkest hour of night,

And even things that require

That severity of bleakness to thrive.

Though I only bring them toothbrushes,

Gloves, and bandages

That sitting on the sideline

I may help sow some seeds

For some nocturnal haunting growth

In this place so full of death.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “Sitting on the side line.” I hope you like it.