The Road
Fades slowly toward an endless withdrawal.
Into the wind, where dusk looms and time slows
To a hush. Brace, brace, in fragments vanishing.
Gateway to nowhere. Run, run! Towards this road.
a head while stumbling upon the ruins of ?yesterday
Daydream, take a moment to contemplate this path.
Skipping stones off driftwood, adrift, wondering how
You get here? And what does it all mean, every step?
Still a place of concurrence. If only there were an end,
Or this turning point? Save your tears, regrets; there now. In the silent ocean.
Down this road is a darkness, all-consuming, best laid
plans.
Burdened by a boulder,
That once was a star,
Dragged by the colder
End of a scar,
To feel a wish
Bleed from a stab,
To die among fish,
To be pinched by a crab,
Alone in the sea,
Envying the summit,
What I was shaped to be,
I cannot over come it.
Gental despair,
A coffin from sorrow,
A storm in the air,
Killing tomorrow,
Tangled knots,
Numbed by a blade,
A line of dots,
The heartbeat fades.
What is mine,
A thief takes back,
A paralyzed spine,
Wine in a rack,
Locked by a knife,
Yet stabbed at the heart,
Miserable short life,
The sadness of art.
With words in play for pictures to paint,
That hum melodies beyond poetic sway.
The chaotic use of rhymes and devices, yet in survey,
My mind chooses to withdraw from the unnatural hold.
With subtle flavours and a vibrant touch of my emotions on the plate,
Unquestioned thoughts and silenced cries,
Expressions speak while silence complies.
With no hunger for emotions anymore,
I pick the pen to finally paint,
For silence spills over the page again.
I kneel before the silence I have made,
A room of broken whispers, debts unpaid.
The soul I locked away still strikes the bars,
Its voice a hymn beneath extinguished stars.
I carved my name in wounds too small to show,
Yet watched them grow wherever I would go.
I punished breath for faltering in the night,
I cursed my hands for trembling out of sight.
Forgive me, shadow, for the wars I fed,
For every cruel word spoken in my head.
The mirror holds a trial I cannot flee,
A restless judge who knows the worst of me.
If mercy lives, it lingers out of sight,
A dying ember waiting through the night.
And if it speaks, its voice is faint and low,
Yet still it calls the self I used to know.
At ten til two, some lie awake,
Attending too sighs we ruminate;
Ten and two, love drives to where sunlight hides and waits,
Yet in pursuit, nights erode of what chance may make.
Amending truths our tomorrows wake,
And then the soon borrows the hours late.
Despite red moons raising tides like fate,
Attentive proof reminds of the coming breaks.
We can never know of what tomorrow craves.
Certainty can speak with gentle lips, for words to slate;
What more can 2026 be other than its falling flake?
Rationality adores the harvests they slickly take,
And arrogantly still, I feel tomorrow's grip ought to be sold a bit too late.
’Tis but another tomorrow that hides among many tricks, where ideas apprehend our stakes.
It’s with hope that follows the light that empties their mix, so plans can lessen the opaque.
While tending to sleep to grow the want to wake,
Let this be proof to find of what I may create; I can shape.
The new year is all but a day, and with love I plague every chance I’m given to make new mistakes,
And of the new choices yet to decay.
2026, I have hope for your ache.
I always like to be a man of spine
And towards others very benign.
Thriving ever for steady ascendance
I want to be a man of independence.
I regret the act of illtreating others
And waging wars against our brothers.
I dislike the act of practicing deception
And inclination towards misperception.
I envision my future to be prospective
And to the great extent introspective.
I want my future to be free from vanity
And dedicate it for the sake of humanity.
A creative spirit who lives inside her head
Her heart spills forth in ink, each syllable a story
Pouring three decades of emotions onto the pages
They all admitted their hands had opened a piece of paper that no one had ever touched.
They admitted they had read a piece of paper that had never been thought of.
They admitted they had accepted the rules of a letter that never existed — or did it?
And they all thought it was given by a young boy they had seen in childhood,
but no one remembered his name, or where he had slept.
No one knew a single piece of memory about him,
but what they all agreed on was the existence of a letter
that had never been written before.
Your heart has a yearning
And a burning desire
To share what you’re learning
Like voices of a choir
Small pieces of paper
With the things you have thought
A con or a caper
How the villain was caught
No time is a wrong time
If you wake up at night
With a thought of a rhyme
Then you know you must write
Watching movies with you
Your friends do not enjoy
For you catch every clue
And discern every ploy
And time seems to fly by
When you sit down to write
With that glint in your eye
There is no end in sight
You longed for the teacher
To ask each for a story
You wrote down your feature
Of our flag called, “Old Glory”
Friends with the dictionary
Filled with word after word
To some it seemed scary
When the big words they heard
But not to the writer
You knew you’d become
A reader delighter
You knew you’d please some
So write on forever
As your stories you tell
A writer so clever
Right inside you doth dwell
I’m so tired of spendin’ nights alone
The test of time has left me like a stone
Drinkin’ time—I feel it in my bones
Feel so numb, I can’t pick up the phone
Drownin’ in sorrow, can’t find my way
Lost in the darkness, day after day
Tears fill my eyes as I silently pray
For a glimmer of hope to guide me astray
Should’ve known that fortune favors bold
Tried so hard just to go break the mold
Drinkin’ time, it got so uncontrolled
Now I’m dead, so far deep down below
Drownin’ in sorrow, can’t find my way
Lost in the darkness, day after day
Tears fill my eyes as I silently pray
For a glimmer of hope to guide me astray
Resilient I am,
to be here,
to stand as tall as a sunflower.
I can hear the cacophony of cicadas outside my window sing with me through my grief.
Their trill reminds of blooming chances.
As sunlight slips through,
rays of gold ripple over my skin like a whisper of comfort,
their warmth sinking into my bones-
a sweetness in the air, faint as the scent of honeysuckle carried by the breeze.
Filling me with its glow, I sit still, as if I moved an inch it would be gone.
How glorious is it to feel every single thing to its peak?
Every memory that lies in my mind,
it is a song that dances through my body, like the tune of a sorrowful violin reverberating within my soul.
Resilient, I am, to stand upon
this ground,
its cool earth pressing against my soles,
unyielding beneath my
trembling weight--
though I ache for its embrace,
to let it swallow me whole
and cradle me in its
quiet depths.
Silent sentinels rise from the tide,
bones of steel, nourished, refined.
Like Canti, a lord forged from the mind,
bound to the earth for the ones who cry.
Painted for the hymn of adults—
swinging a bat for freedom of lies.
Always the Poet
Writing on beautiful things
Ne’er to be the poem
Hey wet river.
Hello dry bones.
Feel the rhythm?
Hear the tones?
Wet, wet,
The river gives.
Wet, wet,
The river takes.
Walk along the brooks and streams,
Run along the ponds and lakes.
Close my eyes,
I hear no more.
I will exhaust,
I will explore.
Through the forest,
I run, I run.
Fear for when
My time is done.
Kick up your feet,
Enjoy the shows.
This is where the
Rabbit goes.
Blind squirrels and broke clocks
Take short drinks for long walks.
Death is a rite of passage,
Whether you are ready or not.
No, wait.
Never mind.
I forgot.
There I go again,
Lost my train of thought.
The perpetual sunlight hurts my eyes,
Nowhere near the pain of lies.
Hid behind their false disguise,
Lady bugs and fireflies.
Apple bottoms, cherry pies.
All the things I ever loved.
All the foes my hands have shoved.
All the sights my eyes have seen.
All the laughs and tears between.
The moment passed
The moment lost
Your precious time
Is what it cost.
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