Original Poetry about anything and everything.
Hearts been pumping ink
Slick and unerasable,
Things both good and bad
Boldly on the page.
Like rock formations
Road workers go around
Circumventing, rerouting
Avoiding at all costs.
Give me courage
To smooth these bumps
Fill these holes
And pave a road to you.
– Vagabond Prophet
Morning bus ride
Exactly fourteen minutes
To arrange my soul
In tidy little stanzas.
– Vagabond Prophet
Where are we?
Don’t recognize this street.
Just like following you,
I hope the driver knows
Where he’s going.
– Vagabond Prophet
Passing cafes and shops
In morning twilight,
Rooftops laden with snow
Flowers don’t yet grow.
Almost there though
Icicles go drip drip drip
Spring knows how to entice
Seducing all the ice.
– Vagabond Prophet
Does your faith evaporate
Like water
On a hot sidewalk?
And children trample
On the remnant of your hopes.
What then?
Do you still believe?
When your heart
Undoes its rivets,
To let itself topple
Like a rookie jenga match.
Does your faith endure
The torrent of survival,
The steady drip of living.
Can it survive a head wound?
Or being trapped in a storm
With no way home?
It could be different you know,
You could let him carry you,
And work out the little knots in your soul.
Just know when your faith
In him is shaken,
His in you is not.
– Vagabond Prophet
Time carves a canyon
On my face,
Love thins to liquid
By your closeness.
It fills every crevice
Bridges every gap,
Rising to meet
The bluffs of my inadequacy
And placate all my nonsense.
– Vagabond Prophet
When grief fits perfectly
Like an old pair of jeans
Scuffed at the knees
Knowing every curve.
Take it all off
Come to bed darling
So I can hold you
And know every curve.
– Vagabond Prophet
I sailed across the sea
Just daughters wife and me,
Took to the fields.
Fled a career
Building boxes for the dead,
It was killing me.
The culture around
As barren as the land
So I collected eighty eight keys.
The girls needed melodies,
And harmonies to dance to,
Maybe I did too.
Improving life
By risking it,
Maybe that boldness
Runs in the blood.
We all got thin that winter
But our minds ran thick
With music enriching.
I’d do it all again,
Trade my bacon for a duet,
And my ham for a ballad.
When coins slipped away
I brought the sow to town,
And traded her for music.
Worth it,
Every note.
– Vagabond Prophet
– In my dining room sitting to my left right now, is a piano that my great grandfather bought for his daughters after moving to Canada. He wanted music to be a part of their lives. He was making payments on it until he couldn’t, he decided trading their pig in to settle the debt was worth it. I don’t even know what they ate that winter.
Too many words
Trying to get out at once.
Honking their horns
Flipping each other off.I can’t staunch the flow
To something more manageable,
This perplexing whirlwind
Is just where I live now.
Diuretic of the mind,
Extruded thoughts
Shaped by force.
Dread and malevolence,
Hornets in my pockets,
All good excuses.
I know the real reason
I push everything out
At transparency o’clock.
I pluck every bit out,
All that fickle plumage,
To let you see underneath.
I don’t need both hands
To count all my friends,
I just need both hands to be thankful
For the friends I have.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 