Tag: spilled poetry

Paper Boat

Paper boats, mache moats

Cardboard levee, not at all heavy

Pretend solutions, real problems.

Nest of twigs and spit

Protection from monsoon,

Corrugated house

Shelter from the quake.

Water kicks up dirt

Dirt is turned to mud

Mud bakes into clay

Begetting ceramic crockery.

Ceramic pots hold dirt

Watered diligently every day

Round and round we go

In a paper boat dissolving.

While pirates in ships wooden

Papers rigid ancestor

Won’t be softened

Or misshapen by the storm.

To my paper boat I cling

Putting every hope on board

For wood never let me mark

With words from pen.

The secrets of a heart

Marred by tempest strong

Though I may sink

Behind I’ll leave my ink.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for promoting @mildreflections and I with “Paper Boat.”

Shapeless

Souls, water, wind,

Angels, demons, and love.

Things most likely to dance

Between polar opposites of good and evil

Can’t take shape, won’t take shape.

Molded my nurturing and vitriol,

Only shaped by what it pushes against,

I’ve been shaped by a God above

That loves me somehow,

A devil below

That loves me like

A beautiful yet poisonous plant.

I’m shaped by people on either side

That love me wonderfully

And hurt me wonderfully.

A candle burned at every side

Not just at the ends

Until all that’s left is wick.

Needing something to slow my melt

But God is above and that doesn’t work

Until he turns me upside down

Whispering in my ear,

“I’ll shape you masterfully.”

Cut away the gnarled bits

Sand the rough edges.

Wipe stain upon the wood

Bringing out the grain

That needs that touch

To come to the surface.

– Vagabond Prophet

   Thanks @mildreflections for prompting @josy57 and I with “the shape of a soul.

Bulletproof


Security and obliviousness for skinny child

With temperament mild,

Never a bruise

And never a ruse.

Until this solid home

Rose up into a treehouse

Just to fall back to the ground.

Debris scattered

None of it mattered

Not the trickle of doubt

Left glinting in the grout

That never made itself obvious before

But I can’t not see it now.

Having been so sure

In a family secure,

Talk so big

The walk was doubly disappointing.

I’m left swinging in branches above

Wondering if I should come down at all.

If too much of a good thing

Isn’t a good thing

Was it ever really good?

Was I fed deceit for breakfast?

My people eating it themselves

Gulping down hot mouthfuls

To make themselves believe?

Why did I never doubt?

So eager to trust

In planks so thoroughly knotty,

So unwilling to question

What I thought was bulletproof.

What can come next

What steps could I take

When ones who held me taking my first

Broke their deepest promises?

Where could I even start

When all I knew was contentment

Suddenly stripped away.

I wonder if it had been wretched all the while

Would it have been easier.

– Vagabond Prophet

Black Out

Trees fall on lines and everything goes dark

The knight has fallen

The night has risen

Suddenly and with no warning.

Like the deepest parts of the ocean

Not yet explored

I delve into closet corners

That I never knew before.

We’d play games

To make the time pass

To laugh away the darkness.

Hide and seek

With everybody hidden,

Scavenger hunts,

For the daylight that we sought.

Amidst stubbed toes

And flashes of smiles with no bodies,

We found family enough shelter

In blackest of blackouts.

As quick as quicksand beneath my feet

Everything comes back with lightning speed,

Ironic, as lightning started all of this.

Hearing furnace pump

A heartbeat ahead of the lights,

Ready or not here I come..

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @mildreflections for prompting @josy57 and I with “When the lights go off.”

Deadly Sin #7

Envy, as defined by the poets dictionary.

Definition:

Some wounds so deeply seated

As to be enthroned

Waving scepter giving orders

From kingdom long outgrown.

Other definitions include: Wanting the neighbours grass for it is greener than your own, forgetting that grass will only ever be green when it is watered.

Contempt for what you have, hunger for what you don’t.

Green eyes making inventory on things not belonging to them.

A condition known to make content people steal.

Quicksand effect, rapidly turning to nothing what it has and lying in wait to lay its treacherous grip on whoever may come it’s way.

Antonyms include: Generosity, non materialistic, content, selfless, brown eyed.

Envy only seeks to cheat and steal to build itself up in it’s own mind. Imagine Pride with an inferiority complex that also has kleptomaniac tendencies.

– Vagabond Prophet

Okay everybody just for your information I do intend to balance this list out with a similar one about the fruits of the spirit.

Be Real

Naked faced for sleep alone

Still fearing the pillow will talk

About how I really look.

Donning masks before pants

Keeping up the charade

In this social masquerade.

Asking same questions

Giving same answers,

How’s it hanging?

Nothing much how about you?

Does anybody else get tired of it?

Does anybody else wish the world

Was ready for real people?

Who answered honestly

When asked about their day.

Yearned to pour to whomever may inquire

Yet reigned myself back for fear of smothering,

Few people are ready for the torrent of others.

Everybody is lonely

Everybody friendless,

Not getting along with disguises

How could we without?

I fail another attempt to write myself away

Drawing ink from my soul until the well runs dry,

More proof that paper isn’t ready for some stories.

Natural looking masks met with

“Are you sick?”

The answer is yes but I won’t say so

I’ll just say, “Fine thanks.”

Though it doesn’t make sense,

Nobody will say so,

For the response is on the list

Of accepted things to say.

Be real

Be fully you and fully new

Wake up and shower in paint thinner

Let your colour shine

Let the sun mature the hues

And heal every bruise.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “A social masquerade.”

Hive Mind

I’ll love you not like the spring loves flowers

Or how children love mothers.

I’ll love you not how sun loves the moon,

Ever evasive but still reflecting brilliance.

I’ll love you like a bee sting

Sacrificing life to leave my mark on you,

I’ll let you have my honey sweet

That I’ve toiled long to possess.

It’ll never go bad,

But to go unmet

By lips as sweet as yours

Is a fate far worse.

– Vagabond Prophet

Deadly Sin #6


Gluttony, as defined by the poets dictionary.

Definition: Chasms called mouths always open and consuming. A need that’s never met for the ever unreasonable demands. Twisting natural appetites into power struggles, your tastebuds revolting over what once was good enough but now only offends.

Other definitions include: Appetite for appetite.

Hunger for an excess of something.

Particular desires met in particular ways, still never satisfy. Like filling a bucket with a hole in it, or planting in the garden where pests are known to ravage.

Antonyms: Satisfied, content, healthy appetite, “I’m full.”

Gluttony only seeks to put your desires just out of reach no matter how high you climb.

– Vagabond Prophet

Bags under eyes, lids propped open regretfully. Blood slows in a traffic jam uncharged by adequate rest. Steps shorten and stumble. A slingshot, a catapult, a trebuchet will do, give me velocity to find my way to you. Fling me high and send me soaring across the night sky, skip me across calm waters, nock me on your bowstring and give me shrewdest point for wherever you’re aiming today.

Vagabond Prophet