Tag: spilled words

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vagabondprophet:

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.

Capsizing

In throes of deepest admiration

My heart cracking like lines in pavement,

Overwhelmed to the point of capsizing

As I behold my beloved,

No recesses of firmament

Not present in her gaze.

My pinion pinched and unwieldy

No longer can I sojourn

To the celestial region

So you saw fit

To place in her lissome form

All the beauty of the heavens.

She in state of repose,

Words always kind and sweet

Never besmirch, belittle, or cause harm

To this brittle soul of mine.

I beseech you have mercy on me

The third son of a third son

Of a man with just one eye.

Me I’ve got both,

But it won’t be enough

For my rods and cones

To comprehend her majesty.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

Undaunted

These mornings are still cool

While afternoons with heat

Make me perspire into the night.

What can I don

For this time between seasons?

Much the same as

The pains of destiny.

Knowing I’m for the next world

Yet under orders to toil here

To prepare the land and hearts.

For both predicaments

Will take much patience

A period of suffering

And a measure of courage

To look the end of time in the eye

Yet remain undaunted,

Though still perspiring into the night.

– Vagabond Prophet

Turned to Stone

What if all the poems

Do  nothing at all

If I’ve wasted all my time

Sacrificed my sleep

On the altar of art

And it just turns to stone.

Letting my heart unwind

One stanza at a time

Pointlessly.

Without irrigating something good

Or making clear

Something misunderstood.

Oh I pray that I

Can affect real change.

Take my ramblings

To untie lies in others

And inspire courage,  kindness

And all things good and just.

– Vagabond Prophet

Upstream

Absinthe green and gin white,

Bourbon brown and whiskeys bite,

Magic brews to subdue or embolden

How they see fit.

Sometimes loosening

A person held at bay,

And others shutting mouths

While throwing punches.

A carefully procured potion

With mystic contents

And curious results.

Magic all around us ought not be surprised,

By cryptic text in cursive illegible.

In the revelation that if we share a continent

There is always an unbroken chain of concrete

Connecting us together.

Keep your ear to the pavement

And feel my heartbeat in the

Slithering cracks and widening potholes

Gas prices rise and fall

In time with my bloods pulsing nature

Yet in the economy of you and me

An empty tank won’t keep me away

As we will always be connected

By a shared river of gravel and tar

I’ll swim upstream I’ll swim down

Please don’t be too far.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for prompting @mildreflections and I with “The green of absinthe.”

vagabondprophet:

Suburban Pirates

Remember when we were

Suburban pirates

Hoarding all the

Best sticks

For our tree fort

In our plastic war

It all felt so real

I can still hear the screams

I Attila the Hun

Taking hostage

Of the nun

Then you came

A shining knight

Dealt a brutal blight

Now we’ve both

Known defeat

Groveled at

Each other’s feet

Can we make up yet?

Can we be friends again

I’ll give you my

Favourite candy

It’s not poisoned this time

I promise.

– vagabond prophet

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

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