Binds of Young Distress

Like scalding magma
The panic surged
Raised from the caverns
Of my guilt-laden conscience

And yet
Onward I trailed
Through the sweltering hellscape
I knew by name

As wreckless thoughts
Raved madly within
Blistering my insides
With the coursing of young distress

Still I trailed
Maimed and ragged
Toiling forward
Drenched in dismay

I strived and strived
To thrive in the arms of bliss
But the hour of rest
Lied beyond my weary reach

Thrive Faintly

 
I pass through
Graciously
Sparing the living
Of my sorrowful regrets

I loom peacefully
Catatonic
And depart with ease
Uprooted, from solid ground

My role
Is that of a timid breeze
Thriving faintly
In the aft of hectic minds

The untroubled living
Must never know
Of the trembling breath I draw

They must carry on
Blissfully driven
Sure in their roles
And true to their labor

For I am
But a mere passing wisp
A tranquil thought
That soothes and wavers unseen

Block by Block

 
It was
The fuming carcass
Rusted with passing time

Where scores weaved
Thoughtlessly
Beneath its crumbling stature

Cowering
Drew death ever-closer
Within the clutches
Of concrete misfortune

It neared without a sound
Unsparing
Sly and callous

Like a maiden
On the prowl
Seductively
Swaying with malice

Block by block
It all tolled the same
With selfish reveries
Billowing, heaven-bound

Preserve yourself
Was the endless scream
Heard from each shade
Of wayward sons

Regard your own
Was the bell’s daily toll
A cause, hoisted high
A beacon for every
Child of squalor

The Imposter

 
He is the marred
Offspring of opulence
Cleaving, moss covered trails
That yield, only strife and ruin

In his beleaguered mind
He is the solemn
Son of hardship

Yet truthfully
He is safe and sound
Beyond the reach
Of the harshest perils

He thieves mindlessly
From the cruel plights of strangers
From the daily scowls
He greets tenderly

Yet they all peer inward
To the clean slate he harbors
Seeing pastures of green
Among blistering blue currents

Clear and quaint
He is bereft
Of the mires
They truly know

Armored In Evergreens

 
They impale the skies
With spires of stone
Defiantly braving
All perils to come

Cloaked in evergreen
They soon blaze
With autumn red

And remain
Unfazed
By the scourge
Of winter’s loom

I yearn for their heights
For the courage of ancients
To be among the unswayed
Revered
For the rest of time

The Quiet Earth

 
Will the world hoist high
Its shredded banners?
Raised proudly to waft
In the foul gusts of war
Once again

For our corners of home
For the gallant forebears
That stormed sure and bold

Carnage prevails
Time after time
And no one dares recall
Never sparing a second of remorse

When the winds howl
In the final uprooting
Will clarity taunt
Our fleeting cries?

A quieter earth shall turn
In spite of
The many that were  

My Niche of Yearning

 
On and on I writhe
Without a moment of rest
Stirring
With a hearth of longing
Scattering
The embers of distress

When am I to cave
To commune
With the rising dust?

Like the shards of old
Toppled over
By the swift and tireless present

Far off reveries
Have cursed me to rot
In this niche of yearning
In these trenches of regret

By the hour they cry
Faltering shrill
Scattering the kind earth
Into flaming shards of death

The howling departs
And I’ve long eroded
Into a withering shadow
Torn away from my former self

The Luxuries I Disown

 
I cannot speak
Of the “sorrowful mundane”
Of the warm luxuries
I am swift to disown

Comfort ensnares me
And I must never weep
Nor bellow in agony
From within my homely shell

Hardship rests afar
Beyond my coddled frame
Beckoning for my silence
Yearning to quiet
My thoughtless sniveling