real poets fire blank verse

 

dead horses saddled and flogged         the symbol of futility       ideographs of broken people      damaged and confused              forty years in the harness      dragging for the man      at the end of my bloody tether       I pulled a smash and grab        I stole an ounce of freedom           if only in my head       I took to scrawling words        to score some gravy with my bread         

those first were words ugly       but beautiful just the same        so I rearranged their order          and gave them different names       some they say there's madness in my method       that I have a turn of phrase       but from where I stir the pot        all words look the same        there is no magic incantation       no happy ever after          I may as well tear up those words       and post them down the crapper

hear my voice: "Dagger".

gently turn the tides

 

I ebb and flow         a creature born of circumstance        I apply strictly crooked reasoning         to this strictly crooked world                  I chart the geometry of being          deploying instruments         of my own design           it's an esoteric task       but mine is a ministry          a ministry of one         I'd love to touch the sun              with my banner fully unfurled      but for the moment     I'm consigned to ebb and flow       on the gently turning tide  

I ebb and flow         a captive of coincidence             I speak when I'm spoken to         this is no time for clever  rhetoric               they can lock you up        for speaking too loud       so I mind my own business        and mark my own time        worldly concerns are best left for those          who will carve a new paradigm       from the flotsam of the old        but in the meantime          I simply ebb and flow      while the tide gently turns

hear my voice: 'DAGGER'

The Crow Road

 

with the fullness of time      it will always come to this     that we shall walk the crow road       with the darkness in our eyes        and splinters in our feet      but we meanwhile shield our eyes        from the awful truth       we live an allotted time      and are one day rendered meat