A man, more patrician than not,
Of folly, he had quite a lot.
Stentorian voice,
But words of poor choice,
A sot, not a yacht, had he bought.
I am a spirit with shattered wings
Heavily laden with soot and smog strings
You are white angels with snowy feathers
Peaceful and with stentorian treasures
We face the ultimate challenge as a team
akin to a snake or dove
As we were cursed, we ought to love.
Written: November 09, 2022
Revenant
Swept in a vortex of woes
a lone silhouette concede wailing
Voice distinctly stentorian
encompass to heal cerebral ailing
Mysterious entity furtively
shepherds a peripatetic revenant
Wilderness safeguard not forsake
sentient beings repentant
09/03/2016
3:52 a.m.
Aboard cruise ship:
Vision Of The Seas
Here comes the silence.
Shoving its way through the crowd to greet me.
Like a tsunami would greet a stony cliff.
What an impetuous, impertinent lull...
Settling itself on my head like a heavy blanket.
Suffocating my ears.
Should I scream?
I should scream.
But there's no sound.
Just unceremonious reverie.
Just silence.
That raucous, deafening silence.
Until the world turns.
Negligibly.
A motion indiscernible.
Except for the sound it makes.