Twelve Years Old

 
Sunday nights
Breed a fire of anticipation
And Monday’s flowering
My stomach boils uncertain

The mind tussles
At the agonizing promise
Of a schoolyard panic
Its eternal simmering contempt

My tongue retreats
In the falling buckets of sweat
As I trudge the mist-shroud stairs
Propelled toward a sure unraveling

The prodding begins
As scores fall in
Prying away
At their offbeat Other

Taunting refrains
Taunting refrains
My flesh rolls away
Unveiling my distress

Like ravenous jackals
They tear through my innards
In a ritual defiling
Before the watchful daybreak

I remain in scraps
In a mangled heap of gore
My day’s spent crawling
Out of sight and out of mind  


If you truly enjoyed this piece be sure to follow me on  wordpress, tumblr, and deviantart. You can also find more of my work in my latest book of poems and short stories: Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic. All links are available below.

{My blogs}
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{Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic}
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Watchful Strangers

 
Watchful strangers
The ghouls of our time
Follow all footprints
We’ve left behind

They scour in secret
Trafficking unknown
Gathering and gorging
All careless words spun

Watchful strangers
Are on the move
Maneuvering the worlds
We've cleaved and conquered

With eyes fixed forward
We dare not inquire
For what they pursue
"Is no concern of ours"

Watchful strangers
Shall slowly reap
Each dwindling instant
We linger
Unfazed and unraveled

 If you truly enjoyed this poem be sure to follow me on wordpress, tumblr, and deviantart. You can also find more of my work in my latest book of poems and short stories: Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic. All links are available below.


{My blogs}
 http://loftydreams101.wordpress.com/
 http://loftydreams101.tumblr.com/
 http://loftydreams101.deviantart.com/

 {Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic}
 http://www.lulu.com/us/en/shop/william-l-wright-jr/fever-dreams-of-a-young-romantic/ebook/product-21533139.html

The Brisk Current of Silence

 

They merely shrug
At the ongoing display
The widely strewn heartache
That writhes each passing night

Scores stream away
Wrung dry by the throes of verse
The careless meandering
Of my torn and ragged voice

I let turmoil screech
Through the spirals of my throat
Unleash them, hopefully
To a brisk current of silence

Where friends face away
Driven by their own faithful mantra
Where kin go quietly
Careful not to stir me awake

 If you truly enjoyed this poem be sure to follow me on wordpress, tumblr, and deviantart. You can also find more of my work in my latest book of poems and short stories: Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic. All links are available below.

{My blogs}
http://loftydreams101.wordpress.com/
http://loftydreams101.tumblr.com/
http://loftydreams101.deviantart.com/

{Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic}
http://www.lulu.com/us/en/shop/william-l-wright-jr/fever-dreams-of-a-young-romantic/ebook/product-21533139.html

Well-Earned Peace

 

The engine sputters
Through the density of night
Toiling for home
And the warm welcome of sleep

Beneath faintest jewels
Dimmed callously by man
A lone silhouette
Heaves on passionately
Cleaving through the reeds
Of pitiless dark

For the quaint beckoning
Of solitary bliss
The awaiting romance
Of hearth and luxury

Solace nears
Inching each moment
Its piercing cries
Hailing
Over the tranquil night

From the hardship of sputtering
To the deafening roar of purpose
The silhouette charges
With savage vigor

Driven into the arms
Of an awaiting
And well-earned peace


If you truly enjoyed this poem be sure to follow me on wordpress, tumblr, and deviantart. You can also find more of my work in my latest book of poems and short stories: Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic. All links are available below. 

{My blogs}
http://loftydreams101.wordpress.com/
http://loftydreams101.tumblr.com/
http://loftydreams101.deviantart.com/

{Fever Dreams of a Young Romantic}
 http://www.lulu.com/us/en/shop/william-l-wright-jr/fever-dreams-of-a-young-romantic/ebook/product-21533139.html

A Withering Sail

He hungers not
For what the ocean may yield
As his eternity winds down
Trudging slow toward its final hour

Home
Sways atop the bustling tide
Creaking and moaning
Her bones rusted and brittle
Tired from her long way
Courting generations shore to shore

The man
Holds steady at the helm
With only the lapping waves
To ease his battle hardened earlobes

White locks flutter
As the high noon star crumbles
Disintegrating, into a cool blistering purple

But the ages dragged on
With a glare of hopelessness
Weighted by the open, the vast and empty

Gem encrusted nights
No longer blanket the shuttering vagabond
With drained pupils fixed forward
And his frail chattering limbs, guiding the helm
But he does not levy an inch
Trudging westward, engulfed in nightfall

Garbed in Blue

Squawking buzzards
Hang above my rigid frame
Awaiting, with a sickly hunger
Gathering, massing
Thieving of these winter skies

Far gone and bleeding
Where the muskets bore through
Not a whimper in my voice
Not a thought in my skull
I graciously
Die, blissfully unaware

It was a fleeting honor
For the twentieth Maine
Garbed in sacred blue
Bayonets at the ready

We sprang for madness
Shouting to higher glory
As the cannons butchered, and maimed
Sparring not a soul
No fresh face unscathed
I caught my fate
Swift, clean, and painless
Another notch to their belts
Another name, pressed and sold

Closure

In somber resolve
Where she perished and dissolved
Disheveled and dismembered
For the poor souls to recall

With one passing thought
I crumbled, grief stricken and distraught
All for her greater good
Far beyond, what is tame and understood

Scorn
Wields her dominance, like an iron saber
Thrust in me, so I may gush and savor
Where will I turn in the wisps of madness?
Cursed and deranged, somber and breathless
Never to attain
What was, blissfully insane