Sky Wading
Late September morn
Only darkness and fog worn
Can’t see what shape
Sky thinks to take
For it’s too low
And I wade through it.
Come sun burn it up
Leave it scorched
And fling it back up
To the stars it belongs amongst.
– Vagabond Prophet
Tag: spilled thoughts
Outside the palliative care home
Walking through a descending sky
By hallowed ground
Some hope I’ve found.
Here where weakness strikes
Right where fissures
Are likely to fracture
Falling apart revealing every flaw.
Here where you only qualify
To be here if you’re dying
And only leave when you’re dead.
The doctors skill is in diagnosis,
Never treating the disease.
It’s true that given the choice
Between sugar and truth
I’ll choose truth still
The gasoline aftertaste reminding
The importance of tact,
But not in honestys stead.
But look, examine where
These trenches have led me,
The tracks my train
Of thought has traveled
Have brought me here.
I am reminded that
There are yet things that grow
In the darkest hour of night,
And even things that require
That severity of bleakness to thrive.
Though I only bring them toothbrushes,
Gloves, and bandages
That sitting on the sideline
I may help sow some seeds
For some nocturnal haunting growth
In this place so full of death.
– Vagabond Prophet
Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “Sitting on the side line.” I hope you like it.
Okay people. Going to be up all night again. Company is appreciated.
– Vagabond Prophet
Talk to me, join me on my journey of exhaustion.
Yup. One more time this week! Talk to me.
Mhmmmm
Please, join me in my nighttime wakefulness.
I am a crazy person and will not be sleeping tonight again. Anybody in the same boat?
If nobody comes along, it’s okay I’m prepared.
Okay people. Going to be up all night again. Company is appreciated.
– Vagabond Prophet
Talk to me, join me on my journey of exhaustion.
Yup. One more time this week! Talk to me.
Mhmmmm
Please, join me in my nighttime wakefulness.
I am a crazy person and will not be sleeping tonight again. Anybody in the same boat?
If nobody comes along, it’s okay I’m prepared.
Blue Rose
First date I brought you a blue rose
You said nobody had ever given you one before.
A blue rose?
No.
A flower.
I couldn’t believe it,
You, my pride and joy
My flower everblooming.
I’ll spend my days being your soil,
Pruning bits that
Hinder growth.
It’ll be different for our daughter.
I’ll see to it.
One day a boy will knock for her,
Baring a flower in his hands.
Our daughter will say,
“That’s it, just one?,
Thanks but no thanks
I’ll stick with my daddy,
He knows I’m worth much more.”
– Vagabond Prophet
Wrestle the Sun
The most skilled of cashiers
Couldn’t make change of this noise
For some quiet.
I’d wrestle the sun
To keep the night from coming
With its sinister grin
And loud taunts
That daylight may never return.
These thoughts drowned out
With songs sung in every tongue
Of good hope and love.
If your belief
Grants no reprieve
From the devil on your sleeve
Your anchor set in ground
That avoids its touch.
Leave now!
Run fast!
Take your coat
And a boat
And row right out to sea!
Rivers flow to oceans
And oceans feel the union
Deep inside themselves.
This is the answer
The remedy from cancer,
All roads don’t lead home
But all homes do have a road
Leading to them.
If you’re found with a heart
Eager for sanctuary
Having fainted exhausted in the ditch
It’s still better than having never set out.
The guide may come correct
Misguided steps but beginning is a must.
You are worth your weight in gold
Let timid souls grow bold.
– Vagabond Prophet
Hot Pipes
I’m young now but won’t always be
One day this strong back will go slack
And sag under weight of time
Will no longer bear any burden
That comes its way.
These arms like branches in winter
Will wither and stop growing fruit
As my legs like roots stop toiling
For more ground to inhabit.
My voice will no longer rush
Like church organs
Burning urgency through hot pipes
With hope for all who may listen.
My mind may writhe
And scratch at doors
Its long held keys to
Having forgotten the purpose of each.
Though it may shrivel
And lose some of it’s shine
Though I may forget even your name
I will never forget you completely.
For this poorest of memories
Must still walk down halls you tiled.
– Vagabond Prophet
Remission
Firewood stacked in the cellar of my heart
Waiting for some rogue spark,
To make the whole thing catch,
The inferno lying in wait.
Everything takes its turn in the sky
Like the sun
Like the moon
Like my own judgement of myself.
One of those confused souls
Living vicariously through the toilet
Taking everyones shit
Except my own.
To end this marching
I just might have to
Euthanize my own legs.
Sometimes I feel like an electromagnet
With no current running through,
Having lost all of its virtue.
Unless you wanted something cold
Something hard
Something that will never
Grip you tightly.
At this particular juncture I realize
Something strange even to me,
Reality never contradicts itself
Except in the presence of hurricanes.
That the most tranquil of eyes would beget
Such a tempestuous halo dancing round it,
For cows give milk and sadness gives tears
How is it that peace births terror so strong
As to peel roofs from homes.
The typhoon that stops its spinning
To focus its efforts inwards
Inducting some insanity and rage
To that placid and torporial center,
Introduce some apocalyptic worry
To the serene eye.
This would make far more sense.
How do these coexist?
How do they share a bed
Without one taking the blanket
To let the other shiver and die?
How do black and white dance
And in their twirls and pirouettes
Not ever turn to grey?
Yet that’s what has occured in me
A rotten center amidst alien goodness
That eventually makes itself back to the center
Until it all dissipates, leaving not but calm.
Skin stretched taut over
A rib cage mast to make a sail,
Blood fills it like a gale
To push me ever onwards.
On my way one foot
In front of the other,
Trudging the road
Of happy destiny.
Though I don’t quite emit light
The disease is in remission
I’m casting a lighter shadow.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Hey @josy57 ! Thanks for the great prompt
“Casting a Lighter Shadow”.
Okay people. Going to be up all night again. Company is appreciated.
– Vagabond Prophet
Talk to me, join me on my journey of exhaustion.
Yup. One more time this week! Talk to me.
Mhmmmm
Please, join me in my nighttime wakefulness.
I am a crazy person and will not be sleeping tonight again. Anybody in the same boat?
If nobody comes along, it’s okay I’m prepared.
Gold Stickers
On the eve of higher learning
Keep your bright heart burning
That amongst red apples and gold stickers
You’d be the only flame that never flickers.
With hair as curly
As the shapes
You first drew on paper,
Eyes as brown
As the coffee I drink
Each and every morning.
If I could pluck your brightness
I’ve little doubt I’d live forever,
To be a father
Is to never die.
But rather have my blood
Pump through better veins,
To have the apprentice take the tool
Carving the block in ways
I never could with hands
I helped form.
One day I’ll be humbled by age
And you a shining knight
Will have your own page
To raise up with wisdom I will give thee.
Tonight just rest your lovely head
Before this new journey,
When the sun rises
On your keen brow
Know that it never sets
On your father’s prayers for you.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Son starting kindergarten. I’m not crying you’re crying!
Vagabond Prophet 