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..
Tag: poetry
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
Scars, I have a few
Not a lot, just enough
To know they’re markers of pain,
Yet feel it no longer.
Like they’d had enough
And could fit no more
That part of me dead,
With resilience as a parting gift.
Vagabond Prophet
The sun comes over the hills, carving the entire skyline in an instant with artists precision.
Unreasonable faith says it will be the same as yesterday.
I believe it too.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Why should the past ensure the future?
All this wrestles uneasily, in my bones creating doubt.
Yet the sky remains the same.
Vagabond Prophet
Elijah
You said your son’s name is Elijah
And that regret brings you nostalgia,
There’s no way to dull the pain
And so you sleep under the rain.
– Vagabond Prophet
– For a homeless man I once knew.
Caving In
You terrify and mortify
Got goose bumps on my skin,
You petrify and stupify
My heart comes caving in.
– Vagabond Prophet
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.
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
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.
Vagabond Prophet 