The Search

the path is protracted
bleak and blurry
the peril is palpable
spurious and substantive
enemies are everywhere
and nowhere
the words, my words
stuck in my satchel
crusty ink pages
wasting and withering
waiting for life
biding for breath
the search continues
down that protracted path
by and by
on and on
never ever
will i surrender

selective focus photography of tree leaves

Exhaustion (Modern Day)

Morning:
go, go, go…

Family:
rush, rush, rush…

Commute:
slow, slow, slow…

Work:
stress, stress, stress…

Afternoon:
long, long, long…

Commute:
slow, slow, slow…

Family:
rush, rush, rush…

Evening:
short, short, short…

Bills:
now, now, now…

Money:
gone, gone, gone…

Spirit:
tired, tired, tired…

Life:
on, on, on…

action asphalt blur cars

The Game

Money, money, money,
that’s the game.

Toil, toil, toil,
that’s the duty.

Escape, escape, escape,
that’s the antidote.

Revolt, revolt, revolt,
that’s the answer.

War, war, war,
that’s the response.

Death, death, death,
that’s the outcome.

Peace, peace, peace,
that’s the alternative.

Love, love, love,
that’s the cure.

flower against black background

The Painful Walk

I endure
the painful walk.
By broken homes
and empty houses
through deferred dreams
and broken promises
I endure
the painful walk.
By forgotten graves
and smug faces
through credit cards
and grinning bankers
I endure
the painful walk.
By sweat shops
and corrupt corporations
through my allegiances
and misconceptions
I endure
the painful walk.
By our abusers
and their financers
through the streets
and the crowds
we endure
the painful walk.

action adult asphalt blur

 

Drift Away

dull droning voices
regurgitate drained doctrines

devoured by droves
of undiscerning disciples

but i cannot see
and i cannot hear

dissecting the dogma
my decision dawns

i must drift away
down current

where i am free
to dissipate

The Muses

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Like melodious music

The wistful words

Of ghostly muses

Whisper wisdom to me

Inspiring my imagination

Directing me onward

I am not alone

You are not alone

We are not alone

The world is alive

The muses are alive

We all are alive

We need only to listen

Without judgment

Or senseless division

To hear the music

And the message

Of all our muses

Frozen Heart

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Cold breath
expels outward
as I step out
on an icy morn.
Frosty air engulfs
my senses
sending shivers
up and down my spine.
The coldness seeps inward
encasing my heart in ice.
It pumps frozen blood
up and down my veins
and I coolly continue
to capitalize the world.