The Pretender

Misterwives' song "Vagabond" truly grasped me surprisingly one day, and ever since I've been listening to this song on loop. It seems to speak so much to me in so many different ways. In fact, it inspired me to write this poem that reflects my own personal struggles. I hope that this song and poem helps you embrace the clarity that it provided me. It really is a blessing to have a good sense of music, and have something that can inspire someone to do better.

The sun rises high with nowhere to go

Voices swarming the inside of your head

Telling you to run

Telling you to go go go

This place is a desert void of stars

Sparkling moments of a single night

Brazen by the silver specks of light.

Capturing the wind in your hair

Voices swarming inside your head

Telling you to run

Telling you to go go go

To a place of solitary ocean breezes

Swimming among the foamy waves

Grasping the dolphin's fin like aero-planes.

You're pretending to not feel alone

You're running from the past

And low hold the night's mist

Covering your face in the twilight

Up and down your insides overwhelmingly go

Telling you to go go go

A vagabond among the winds of change.

Running so far away from your hometown

Throwing those pages into the walls

Through cracks of cement locked tight

Trying to forget, but can't seem to let go.

Memories like a hurricane rushing through

And paralyzes you in a window still pain

Building castles around your suffering.

The sun rises high with nowhere to go

Voices swarming the inside of your head

Telling you to run

Telling you to go go go

This place is a desert void of stars

Sparkling moments of a single night

Brazen by the silver specks of light.

Shake those demons off and rise up up up

Capture the light of the moon in silver streams

Instead of running down down down

And feeling low low low

You're a vagabond searching for a dream

Every day a struggling uphill battle

Against the winds softening your skin.

Any Final Words?

"Spilled Coffee" from WordPress

Nearing the edge of the page

My ink quill threatens to flee

My mind cringes at the sight

My hair stands upside down.

Do I dare to write the final word?

Is it really something worth sharing?

Perhaps a mug of coffee will tell,

Or perhaps it may not.

A drip of caffeine falls from my lip

Splattering on the page in slow motion

My heart beats faster and faster

Not my masterpiece! Not now!

I shouldn't have taken any chances

I should have written that last word

Now time will never know what it was

Now there is a dried up stain on the page.

Nearing the edge of sanity now

The ink blotches the page now

It's skewed into a magnificent oblivion

Now, I need time to think.

Why didn't I write that final word?

Is it really up to destiny to determine?

Perhaps there is enlightenment to all of this,

Or perhaps there was not.

Writer's Note: Please don't forget to check out my new flash fiction website, Edge of the Page. It is sure to surprise you with some magnificent fantasy pieces. 

Wonderful Writing Wednesday #1: The Photographer

So I've decided that I'm going to be posting one poem a week on Wednesdays. I'm calling this project Wonderful Writing Wednesday. It should allow me to share my poetic insights with all my fellow bloggers, readers, and poetic justice friends. As I said before, a daily poetry blog is too hard on my membrane and I can't handle the stress of the lave flowing through my ears like vents. So, here it is everyone! My first post to the Wonderful Writing Wednesday Project. 

"Child's Eyes" / Image found at Expect Adventure (Wordpress)

Collecting the thoughts like photos in a shoe box

I create a collage from their scenes like a cinematographer

Counting the flashes of the lens with each click

Black and white or antique sepia swirls coalesced

Into one image whose pixels create an imaginary dream.

I dream of living upon the cloud beds like a child

Whose eyes gleam with adventure and mystique.

I dream of seeing through another's eyes for one moment

Just to better understand how a human mind works.

I dream to dream the impossible and improbable.

My camera is a Polaroid pipe dream ready to snap

Hundreds of sights all into one collective shoe box

Covered in hairballs upon a dusty shelf, hard to reach.

The mind's eye sees more light than a camera flare

And that is something to be proud of as a child.