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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.

Bags under eyes, lids propped open regretfully. Blood slows in a traffic jam uncharged by adequate rest. Steps shorten and stumble. A slingshot, a catapult, a trebuchet will do, give me velocity to find my way to you. Fling me high and send me soaring across the night sky, skip me across calm waters, nock me on your bowstring and give me shrewdest point for wherever you’re aiming today.

Vagabond Prophet

Fortified

Always have song present

The melodies of beauty to usher you

Through the monotony of life,

Crescendos to hold you through lows,

Melancholy sounds to remind you

In joy, that this is not yet home.

Music has lulled me

Invigorated this spirit,

Fortified my bones

When milk no longer could.

Harmonies even curlier than my hair

Have spun my heartbreak into epiphany.

Reminding that he speaks through all

If you only have ears to hear.

Always have song present

To comfort you when bothered

To bother you when comfortable.

The most beautiful sounds making sadness

Pulling tears from your eyes

To stretch into harp strings.

Always have song present

When you’ve canoes with no oars

And tusks with no boars

Rhythms yet unknown

Will guide your feet to safety.

– Vagabond Prophet

Drowning

Rushing in and out,

Twice a day everyday.

Highs and lows

In lofty throws.

Leaving lines on the rocks

Of past embraces

Felt a thousand times before,

Too be felt a thousand times more.

Predictably relentless,

Like taxes or red lights,

But much more real

With much more zeal.

No easy thing to resist

To shift your weight

From bottom to top

Full speed and full stop.

I’ll give my all to fight this squall

Resist a sea that plucks

Whenever it pleases

Tossing whitecap teases.

That’s just how it feels

Living here and believing

In stories great and true

Though some may say askew.

A world in love with authenticity

That’s somehow always fiction

It can feel so hollow

And unsated with each swallow.

This rhythmic pulsing of humanity

Blood pressure from disease untreated,

I know this cure

It’s simple and it’s pure.

I’ve never done drugs

Yet know what addiction is

I’ve been the man in sin

I’ve been lost in swamps within.

I have battled my own blood

Wrestled my own current

Distraught with its intent

To assimilate to a soul bent.

I have fought to untangle

My dreams from nightmares

To realize in deepest chagrin

The differences are thin.

If you want to walk against the tide

Of your broken nature clawing

I’ll show you the path

But first get rid of wrath.

When water starts rising

Up and past your navel

Find the one rivulet

Rebellious and immaculate.

The one teaspoon in an ocean

That when tide rushes up

It rushes down

With upside down frown.

Follow it abandoning all

Strip all that drags you down

Be cleansed by drowning the part

Of you that was dead from the start.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “Against the Tide”

Virgin Forests

Through virgin forests

And unplucked gems

Twisted vines

Thoughts do stem.

Stroll through winding trails

And I’m nearly planted

By the weight of glory

Pressing me into the earth.

Almost sprouting roots

And taking up residence

In the innocence of things green.

Step back, run home

Think about this maybe forever,

Famous last words.

In my comfort zone,

Where nothing satisfies

And nothing is better than me

Lenses only blur

And spinning the reel

Only lengthens distance between

Me and dreams of late.

Where my appetite can consume,

Crunching through anything

To enjoy a fleeting taste

Of something not even real.

Next time I’ll do it

I will spread roots deep

Shoot my everything

Into the richness of the soil

The only true kingdom on earth.

Keep my ideals high

So I can’t taint or splinter

Keep my foundation low

So I can stand upon it.

Finally find somewhere

For my teeth to be defeated

Turned to dust by a truth

So much harder than themselves.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thank you @josy57 for the prompt “Virgin Forests”

False Security

For a decade and a half

Being lulled into safety

Tucket in tight

And nurtured right.

It was like a ride in a reliable car

That you ignore the funny sounds

Because it always got you there

No matter what.

Until you’re left stranded

At the side of the road

Counting the pebbles

Stuck in the sole of

Shoes you’ll outgrow soon.

For long after sitting on a swing

Waiting for someone to push me

No one to lower the bridge

So I can close the gap,

Valentines Day’s spent

Trying to love myself.

Knowing now that it’s okay

If every levee breaks

And every mountain shakes

And every love quakes

Because everybody breaks sometime

Even with regular maintenance,

And it’s important to love anyways

It’s how we get through this together.

– Vagabond Prophet

thanks @josy57 for the prompt “false security.” Hope people like it.

Silent Radio

It’s not broken muted or otherwise malfunctioned

It’s just what I need at this particular junction,

My own mind deafening

Need some quiet to drown it out.

Words float by on the wind

Lullabies soar on a stream,

And serenades with night sky.

The cool air complains about

The chill off my bones

And the radio sits silently

Nodding it’s support

And I crank up the hush.

You need silence

Before you can make music

You need ugliness before you can

Clothe it exquisite.

You need a blank page

Before you can drown it

In a sea of swirling thoughts,

And I needed to fall

Before I knew I needed you to catch me.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “listening to a silent radio”

Sunglasses

If you need proof that every soul

Is at war with itself,

Look no further than your sunglasses.

That in the darkest hour of night

We pray for dawn to break

To chase the shadows away

And illuminate your spirit.

What do you do?

What have I done?

That dearest beseeched ray of day

Finally hops the fence and is found

To be too damn brilliant

Too sharp and discerning to tolerate

It stings the eyes and scorches the skin.

I wear sunglasses,

Keep my foot in both camps

For darkness threatens to smother

And light threatens to burn me

So I stay in the middle.

So you see we are all of us

Creatures afflicted by division,

Fallen spirits trying to float upwards

While still clinging to the ground,

The best gymnast of the heart

Can’t do the splits that well.

Trash your Oakley’s

Nobody can serve two masters.

– Vagabond Prophet

Volcanic Dust

If Vesuvius would bath me

Leave an ashy mold of life.

When they come years later

And uncover me

With slow blows of chisel

What will they find?

Liquid rock ruthlessly drinking up

Everything I know and leaving a perfect casing,

A gift wrapped for a recipient

Not yet known.

Would it even be exciting?

This man was inspiring,

This man loved loudly

And cared deeply.

This man stood up
When others lay down,

Resisting the current and by that

Being the only one

To truly know it’s strength.

This man was lazy

This man hit snooze too many times

Life forgot him long before this.

This man spun in circles

Never picking a direction.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t take

A volcano for me to leave a legacy.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 28

Christmas time comes soon

And they’ll be home for christmas,

Those that can navigate their way

Across the Atlantic to my front door.

Old Fashioned everybody?

They all smile and nod

All of us wearing same toque

Without even meaning to.

Bulleit Bourbon everytime,

The extra 5% for anybody

Who can’t make it this year.

More than one bottle

To last us past three days,

Mixing it extra strong

To loosen words.

Got to get those gears spinning

Make up for lost time,

Catch up just in time

To say goodbye once more.

– Vagabond Prophet