Tag: spilled poetry

Strolling through sopping grey

Summers first reprieve

Is a whisper of autumn.

When every blade of grass is slick

From the breath of the night

And all parched land takes flight

Making way for things shadegrown

Before the big sleep.

Vagabond Prophet

Days of Honey

I am Mr. Cash

I am the mourner,

I’m everybody dressed in black

Who am I?

Is grief not where I dwell?

Is sorrow not the gold mine

Where I scratch out a living?

These things you say to me

Only leave me perplexed,

My days stuck in traffic

My nights stuck in thought.

My swallowed tongue

My rib cage rung

Climbing up and down

From a mind with kidney stones.

Every thought taking such effort

To unearth from the depths

And push to the surface

The pain brings me to my knees.

My own heart is the box

Marked fragile, intentionally dropped

Because it says so.

Now these keys on the ring

For locks I don’t remember,

Need to find a resting place,

And those locks with wide open jaws

Awaiting the crooked teeth

Of this forgotten tool

Will not close their lips for any other tongue.

For it knows my shape

And lies in wait

To fulfill the promise

Made by someone other than myself

For I hold the key that another designed

And must seek for it a sheath.

The journey is long

The path winding

And so I am thankful

For the days of honey

That heaven finally brings

To remedy this bitter soul.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “Swallowed Tongue.” This one kind of got away from me, hope folks like it.

https://www.tumblr.com/audio_file/vagabondprophet/177335092142/tumblr_pdygqsy8rI1wr7drj?plead=please-dont-download-this-or-our-lawyers-wont-let-us-host-audio
https://vagabondprophet.tumblr.com/post/177335092142/audio_player_iframe/vagabondprophet/tumblr_pdygqsy8rI1wr7drj?audio_file=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.tumblr.com%2Faudio_file%2Fvagabondprophet%2F177335092142%2Ftumblr_pdygqsy8rI1wr7drj

Hi everybody, so this is my first time posting my own song. I realize I need to practice especially my guitar work and I apologize for the lousy recording quality I am recording just using my smart phone. Comments are welcome and appreciated, feeling pretty terrified over here about doing this but comfort is the enemy of progress. Hope some folks like it.

– Vagabond Prophet

i’m sorry that i wake you at random times in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, but thanks for not hating me, k?

delightfulharmonypoetry:

Its when I see you sound asleep
That I berate myself
You are so calm, at peace and deep 
inside another realm
I’m lonely with your heart right there
Beating by my side
Somewhere away, your soul drifts out
Without me into night
So when I wake you, tickling toes
tugging on your ear
Bugging you to look at me, please know it’s just I fear
That you will leave me one day
Not to dream but live away
With someone else in mind
And in the panic I just need 
Your eyes to fix on mine

@vagabondprophet

You are sorely mistaken

I rarely dream at all,

For what would I dream

When my days are filled with joy

With knowing your touch and voice.

Once in a blue mood

I’ll dream I’m better for you

A knight with real armour

Instead of this cardboard cavalry.

And if my soul does wander

As you fear it may,

I promise it’s towards you

Not away.

When you wake and tremble,

It’s the bit of me drifted in to you

Aching to see the bit of you drifted into me.

And the open window only blows gently

It provides no escape,

Though I may roam

It’s not far,

I never leave the sheets.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Hickory

Once again I ride the town,

Hop on board until

The end of the line.

Through this haze

Of hickory smoke from

Wildfires too close for comfort.

Morning mists not yet burned

Mean everything is grey,

Sinking in deeper

As we saunter downtown.

It’s thick and it’s hot

Leaving streaks on windows

As though it’s the sweat of the flame.

Not the first time

Won’t be the last

Thay I pray for rain.

For pregnant clouds to come

And birth that fresh new life

On all that smoulders.

– Vagabond Prophet

Frigid

vagabondprophet:

The wind bites my face

And I know that’s your embrace

But it hurts,

Must you be so cold?

I make a hot cup of something

See I’ve got an answer for everything,

As usual I’m either too smart

Or too dumb.

I don’t even know which

It changes like a switch,

So let the wind bite my face

And make my legs go numb.

Let me stay stranded in the cold

No choice but to be bold,

When I’m captured by your might

Captivated by frightful beauty.

Make your frosty tongue

Climb every rung

And run piercing

Through every passageway.

Don’t give me a way out

Don’t make it a fair bout,

Call me to yourself

Grip me firmly.

Take me in your hand

Put on me your brand

Enchant me with

Your frigid brilliance.

– Vagabond Prophet

Fruits of the Spirit #7

Love as defined by the poets dictionary:

Definition: Love allows for this break in style.

Of love we the poets agree to say little

Of love we the poets agree to say much,

For it stifles the verbose

And makes garrulous

Those wonderful few who are traditionally

Iconically

Ironically

Laconic.

It’s big ideas from small minds, still better than all the complacency of the brilliant.

It’s the ink in this pen, only being itself no matter where it’s placed.

Love is the guerilla act of kindness

In minefield valleys, and stormy mountains.

It is love that perished in an act

Of veil tearing demonstration

That love and justice need each other

To be themselves.

In the dying of love, death was defeated, how lovely.

Love is the adhesive property, holding my cells together.

Love always extends the helping hand,

Not caring how barbarous the individual in need may be.

Love holds two souls together in affection, adoration, and commitment.

Love blots out ones tears with tender lips.

Antonyms: Hatred, fear, self preservation at the cost of others well being.

Only love inflates the space between the words, to remind you your story will stay afloat.

– Vagabond Prophet

– That’s me finished, @mildreflections it’s all yours now pal.