Tag: spilled ink

There’s me
And then there’s you
And all I want to do
Is climb into your heart
To make in me a fresh start.

Dissolve like sugar
In those warm cleansing waters
No longer able to discern
Where I end and you begin.

Vagabond Prophet

Hurricane

I don’t believe in true love

Or in soulmates

But I know what happened to me

And I believe in  addiction.

You did not screech or beseech

With kissable lips

And raised eyebrow

With clever fingers set your snare.

I was yours.

You hooked me

With the efficiency of a hurricane,

I became forever yours.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Fruits of the Spirit#4

Gentleness as defined by the poets dictionary:

A softness of spirit that aims to caress rather than bludgeon. Instead of softly spoken lies gentleness speaks truth, fanning the flames of timid souls. Always edifying always encouraging.

Other definitions include: A tender heart expressed in tender touch.

Kindest of instructors, teaching by example and love never by the rod or with condemnation.

Antonyms: Violent, angry, rough, unkind.

Only gentleness is concerned with love and truth being soft to the touch and easy on the skin.

– Vagabond Prophet

– So excited to be on this project with @mildreflections .

Hell’s Hallowed Howl

Created like clear running water

Either joining up to marry a greater body

Or going still and murky in marshy mires.

Designed to age like a spider,

Which is to say well

But with a web that tells a story.

My tongue intentionally sits

Uncomfortably in its fractured saddle

Amidst broken teeth and words

Not yet sharpened.

Destined to wrestle with myself

And the one strand of DNA

That must be made of razor wire.

The anthem of the damned

Cries out loudly

“Freedom!”

Freedom to wander

And freedom to ponder

Freedom of choice and care of consequence.

Is freedom the best desire to have?

Not better to serve a good master

Than serve only myself?

I answer this question

In the negative to find I am

A bird that would fly

But grounded by weighty bones,

Having not had the lead yet hollowed out

By painful but saving tools.

By design I am the battlefield

Between Hells Hallowed Howl

And Heavens Terrible Goodness.

Both at times whispering,

Both at times shouthing,

And both at all times

Vying for my soul.

By design I trust in Goodness

Though it does not shimmer

Though it dances less entrancingly,

For its promise to pull out razor wire

And extract lead from my bones.

Though the Howl dances beautifully

Shines brilliantly and sings convincingly,

How to trust something

That only promises my desires

As though there is nothing greater?

By design,

Is a question I can not answer.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “By Design.”

Shooting stars, the carrier pigeons
Of worlds long gone cold
No longer spinning only hurtled
Burning up with one last urgent message
“The idea of me has lasted
Long after my embers turned to ice,
Will the same be said of you?”

Vagabond Prophet

Uncontainable

Tallest mountains keep on growing,

Deepest seas never full,

Oxen heavily yolked

That will forever pull.

Grass that grows only to be cut,

To feed the greatest beasts

For unending preparations

For unending feasts.

Like tides that bathe the earth

Exfoliating her skin

And volcanoes erupting

Making beauty marks on her cheek.

Night skies more full of

White than black

That just hasn’t reached

Our eyes yet.

Like slugs rolled from tail to head

Everything comes to a point

That uncontainable must explode.

When the stones begin to scream

And whirlpools turned inside out

Shoot fountains into the sky,

When the earth with confetti

And pomp and circumstance

As never seen or heard before

We will no longer doubt

Will no longer reason or argue

That everything is promised for greatness.

Made to look beyond the confines of our skin,

Beyond the confines of long forgiven sin.

– Vagabond Prophet

– Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “Promised for Greatness.” I hope you like it.