Tag: spilled thoughts

Potential

I am simple and strong

I am neither good or evil

For I do not choose my burden

Or even how I will carry it

That is done by the stranger’s hand.

I will with treasure tarry

Across plane, train, and ferry

To bring my payload

To expectant signatures.

Sometimes I am rushed

Sometimes I am empty or full

To the point my corrugated spine

Bursts and holds no more.

I am not good or evil

I am only potential.

If all this and more is true

Of me a cardboard box

What does that say of you?

– Vagabond Prophet

Strongholds


Haven’t I strayed, hurt and betrayed?

Has not curiosity and the exciting risk there of

Driven me to my favourite car wrecks?

Again and again and again…

I do that which I despise

And don’t understand

Your truth comes in the door

Ready for a long stay

Yet I evict it so quickly

That it gets no chance to decorate.

This is what happens when

I let my blood flow through

These corridors I call arteries,

Instead of letting the blood you spilled

Run through my heart

And with joy so loud it crumbles the walls

Of wicked strongholds so fortified

I had begun to grow around them.

– 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.

Reflections

Does the sea reflect the sky

Or the sky the sea?

For the water cool and still

They placid extract a pure blue.

Yet if they swell and spit

Should they whirlpool

I see black clouds enraged

Above my splitting gunnels.

If I survive my storm

And you weather yours

Should our eyes meet again

I’ll find love reflected in yours

On distant sandy shores.

– Vagabond Prophet

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