Tag: writers on tumblr

Epiglottis

No epiglottis left,

Both breathing and swallowing everything,

Taking all into stomach and lungs.

Only then will you know every part of life

With every part of you.

A canvas of your living,

Painted in real time.

Move your arm,

One stroke of a brush,

Sweep your legs in an arc

One more brushstroke.

When body evicts soul,

And all your deeds extolled

Then your grand masterpiece will be unveiled

All colours layered and snuggling together

All blood stirred throughout.

Live a life that people years later,

Don’t stare at the framed article hanging

Saying, “I wonder what this one’s about.”

– Vagabond Prophet

HOV Lane


If you’re the kind of person

With enough baggage to use

The carpool lane alone

You’re not alone.

Want somebody to ride with?

We’ll get more smiles per hour,

We’ll kill the suspension shortly

With the weight of it all.

Do you care?

I don’t,

When the car breaks down

Leave the baggage in the trunk

Keep on walking and watch it all burn.

– Vagabond Prophet

Minstrel

Days in a row now

You’ve got your stool in the foyer,

Gnarled fingernails

Classical guitar.

Strumming and plucking,

Most beautifully

Did somebody hire you?

Or did you just see a need?

For those with cancer

You play in C minor,

Important work you’re doing.

You minstrel of meningitis,

Troubadour of tuberculosis

Don’t give up we need you so.

– Vagabond Prophet

Stumble

Just when I think I can do this on my own

You kill the lights,

“See how you shine, without being known.”

I fumble and mumble

Can’t find the light switch,

I stagger and stumble.

Mind bleaching

Colour stripping

Hand reaching.

“Need me back do you?”

You say it’s okay, already died for that,

For this fault you always knew.

– Vagabond Prophet

Timezones

Sleeping in same bed

Yet time zones apart from one another,

Him straining for a future hoping it’s different

Her yearning for a past that never changes.

Different beds now,

Followed their watches

Did either get what they wanted?

Will I always be haunted,

Wondering if it could have been different?

What if they’d got help

What if we switched leftover night

To Thursdays?

There was never anything left of them by Friday.

My rumination waxing

Never gets any answers,

Just resolutions.

It’ll be different for me.

– Vagabond Prophet