Skip to main content

Random Scribblings















Random Scribblings



Profile/
Know I'm just/
A ghost riding/
The rails with smoke behind him/
A slow vial/
Of whiskey chokes, smiles/
At me, my nose finds a/
Trail, I'm close, driving/
At it, exposed eyes in/
Every direction, hope blinding/
Me, cloaked iris/
I suppose rising/
Up is a sewn lining/
In a black cloud/
Ash shroud/
For this lone writer/
Bone dry and/
Prose flies from/
My pen/
And I'm spent/
Right then/
I'm left/
To writhe tense/
And fight bent/
Climb trends/
And slice them/
Into a fine mess/
Life's stress/
Is overwhelming/
Suppose I'm melting/
In the clothes Im wearing/
Dont extend me/
Any hands if you're closing, pelting/
Me with fists, you throw them endless/
I'm so defenseless/
Broken, pensive/
Toast, distressed but/
Chosen, reckoned/
Alone and destined/
To own my legend/
Soaked and rendered/
A boasting member/
Of society/
It frightens me/
But your kindness brings/
The light in me/
Out surprisingly/
I can be/
The righteous dream/
You climb and seek/
My pride, it keeps/
Me from flying free/
Dry your weep-/
Ing tears and side with me/
This dicey thing/
Called the world is rife with links/
To idols, kings/
As silent sling-/
Shots that we fought/
And deem sol-/
Emn enough to die and sink/
Away, pirates sleep/
In the mighty deep/
Enliven, shrink/
And dive, repeat/
Glide replete/
With hyphens, clean/
Scythes and cling/
To fires, sing/
That I am me/
Dine with freaks/
And shine with grease/
Dry and crease/
Your slimy sheets/
Time is bleak/
And idle fing-/
Ers bide the eag-/
Er flight of eagles/
Grime and sleeves/
Of rising leaves/
Trite and beat/
But quite discreet/
But if I'm awkward/
It's not your/
Fault, these caught words/
Are hot, burn-/
Ing me at every lost turn/
I was taught sure/
Things are per-/
Fect/
Lurking/
But I'm learning/
This is not cer-/
Tain to stop hurting/
But with my balls working/
I'll haunt furnished/
Lawns serving/
Myself like a car swerving/
Posh shirts and/
Parched earnings/
Are bursting/
From my chest, heart churning/
From the cost hurried/
Thoughts blurry/
Cart curbing/
Itself before the horse/
I'd sworn I'd court/
As lord and more/
So let's chart mercy/
As far birds sing/

Popular posts from this blog

Crystal Lake

Crystal Lake I'm begging you to let me immolate/ This is straight/ From the heart because this inner pain/ Won't dissipate/ I'm lifting weights/ With every bitter day/ Because this hidden angst/ Fuck, it simply weighs/ Too much for me to mitigate/ What I'm feeling, to be alone, a risk to take/ I'm in a pickle late-/ Ly, as I sit and wait/ On a phone call from a certain little name/ That will never hit the stained/ Glass, so I rip and rage/ Against myself, against the strain/ Of this mistake/ And with that one, the ripples graze/ Across the surface of the crystal lake/ Of my mind, the crypt I lay/ In is of my own building, I fell in, tripped and splayed/ Out on the concrete/ All these/ Haunting/ Images come back to taunt me/ I'm wanting/ The past to arm me/ With calm things/ Palm me/ In your hand baby and stop me/ From washing/ Away these thoughts each/ Night with whiskey and oxy/ I'm falling/ Darkly/ Into the halls

My Return To The Field

How often must I remain here? I must have died unexpectedly, and my wandering spirit, aura thick with malevolence and anguish, refuses to acknowledge my own death. Indeed, I have become a ghost, cursed to haunt diners, coffeeshops, bars and beaches, pen brandished and book unsheathed. I've grown so distant from others that Im more statue than Man, yet where this separation once stung painfully, it now soothes reassuringly. Lumped in with a generation of "men" with testosterone levels lower than a woman's would be 30 years ago, and forced to make due with "women" that proudly proclaim themselves sluts and will actually attempt to fistfight men if they are ignored and eschewed, as they should be, my sentiment is clear. I want no part of this generation. It's filthy and degraded. You could say I'm living a daydream right now, a fantasy granted the breath of life by divine providence. How many shifts at work have I frittered away contemplating the per

Frostbite

I often feel apart from the world. I enjoy it, partake in it, and have connections within its borders, but I am not of it. Truth is that I can't relate to the vast majority of people. Like seeing a flop at a poker table, Ive just become intimately attuned with a variety of social situations and the nuances they require. Admittedly, and indeed surprisingly to some to whom I never waste my breath, I tend to be very commanding and articulate in conversation. I can converse on a variety of topics with nimble comfort, and set the focus of my attention at ease rather quickly. Im particularly adept at engaging strangers in conversation, breaking them from their reveries, then gleaning what I need from them. On a whole Im very Machiavellian, and I harbor no shame about this side of my nature. The world turned its back on me years ago, so I have no qualms about using its denizens for my own gain when they've proven themselves sufficiently immoral and ill-mannered. From the perspective