Original Poetry about anything and everything.
If I screamed at you
Saying I felt too quiet
Would you believe me?
If I whispered
“I feel too loud”
Would you think me true?
If I blunted every knife
So as to not be
Too discerning
Would you think me strange?
Your silence is too deafening
Just say something
To quiet me,
I don’t want to do all the talking.
Stay my hands,
And lace my thoughts
With your charm
I’ll endure the barbarous threads.
– Vagabond Prophet
I think I need to be invisible
So I can watch you all day.
See what you’re like
When you don’t know I’m there.
See your hips slide past
The waistband of my pyjamas.
See your smile at first light,
Hear your joy at the first sound of music.
The brown of your skin
Brushing against sheets,
The smell of dreams
Still on your breath.
It was always you I loved
Just you alone,
Why can’t I be invisible
To see what I love?
– Vagabond Prophet
Sometimes not enough,
Others far too many.
Twenty four hours in a day.
Wake up bright and ready to live!
Sometimes dragging this husk around
One day closer to decay.
Life can be so taxing
And hurt just too much,
For days end I pray.
Life can be so wonderful
Full of joy and I don’t want
The end of today.
So tomorrow bring me vigor
And a thickening of skin
To become good clay.
Twenty four hours
Again coming to a close,
I just need your promise
To bring me twenty four more.
– Vagabond Prophet
Sometimes I need to dilute the air I breath with smoke. It’s just too fresh for someone as tarnished as I am.
Salt trucks driving all around
Spraying just about everywhere,
If you’re from a warm place
You might not understand.
Here salt preserves
Even lives sometimes.
– Vagabond Prophet
Do you want to travel?
We can grab the moon
As it spins by tonight.
We’ll see every city light
Until our dreams are flooded
With all that neon light.
– Vagabond Prophet
Red frames around brown eyes
Like black coffee but sweeter.
Eyes focused pondering
How to get your heart out
Through your fingertips.
Oh sweetheart don’t forget
You have my heart too,
Maybe that ink will thin
More easily.
I’ve always been
A little more fluid in February.
– Vagabond Prophet
Looking for inspiration when you’re sitting right in front of me. I can be so stupid sometimes.
What is a writer?
A thoughtsmith
Shaping words
With heat and strength
Into something you can wield.
Sometimes a sword
Sometimes a candlestick.
A poet much the same
But more nonsensical,
Like a soldier
Who dances into battle.
No less effective
Just different.
If you do it well enough
It can be understood
In every language
Like “Coffee” or “Mama”,
And maybe just maybe
Make people wonder
If we’re made for something different.
– Vagabond Prophet
Bright and early
Brown eyed and tempestuous,
You flicker and burn
Like embers in the wind.
Disaster yearns at dawn
I better get this boy breakfast
And delay the apocalypse
Just one more day.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 