The Plundering Tide

 
Freight cars rain
Scattering plumes
Rich, with lives well-squandered

As nightfall dwindles
Beneath their endless
Arching cries

There are no sirens
Only a great span of silence
And the plundering tide
Brought forth, by eager hands

Havoc ascends
In murderous clouds
Heaven-bent
For their heinous jobs well-done

As tattered lives
Cleave to vengeance
Simmering with the hatred
Of legions, floundering
Within the waves of grief  

For a Torturous Memory

 
I labor from below
Tunneling
Overwhelmed by night

Where the lights cannot pry
And the silent linger
In the firm clutches of sleep

Dig out!
Is the refrain I hold
The harbored scream
Which fuels my effort

Dig out!
Claims my blistered hands
As they toil in spite
Bloodied and maimed

Home
Is a cherished beacon
Wafting through the ruins
Of a once prosperous mind

A ceaseless memory
That soothes and torments
Never leaving me to waver
Never falling
Out of favor with my thoughts

Ghostly Regrets

 
Orphaned deeds
Now flood
The hull of my conscience

Storming the gash
As I topple over
Full with remorse
Hopelessly, Overrun

I reclaim the sorrows
I've spun and left for dead
In the bountiful silence
Where turmoil, hails supreme

Quietly listing
The dark is to loom
As a vise, crushing
From all around

Father Knows

 
I cave
A hopeless wretch
As bravery nears
Having conquered
The falling, fading day

Father
He spares few words
As his eyes trace my fear
Disheartened
And burdened with worry

My nerves draw chaos
In the rising fumes of despair
At the swell
Of the morrow’s hatred
Foreseen within, his tired eyes

Father knows
What awaits his feeble son
Fully aware of the carnage
That lingers, quietly simmering

But all questions fade
In the aft of my mind
Dispersed by the fear
He once carried, long ago

“I am afraid”
Would come to pass
In a sudden surge of valor

A Crime of Apathy

Wallowing
Within placid
Half-hearted stanzas

The unsparing void
Where I’ve stranded my thoughts
To marinade in squalor
Callous, ragged, and unkempt

Time draws breath
Desperately
Tussling with panic
In its slow, horrid demise

It withers at the hands
Of titanic reveries
Coiling the windpipe
And awaiting its final tremor

When all is motionless
Frayed and silent
By my heinous crimes of apathy

The earth will turn
In prosperous hands
As I trail unheeded
Through their proud
Diverging ranks

Fire-Bred Travelers

 
The days choked
Upon the great plumes of savagery
Cast out
By the furious and frightful

Lionhearts withered
In the shrill cries of ordinance
Scattering, impaling
All brazen, fire bred travelers

With sharp eyes
Forever swallowed
Beneath the leagues
Of unsparing silence

The careless thrash
Of brother and foe
Is buried deep
In the soils of home

Beyond the waves
True chaos thrives well
Nestled, beneath the skin

As the cruel ravager
Of a quiet
Blissful slumber

Keeping Misery at Bay

 
Our time
Is cruel, to hastily wither
In a peaceful
Steady decline

As we converse
Unaware of the age
The bedlam
We know as home

In our roving
All turmoil wanes
Fearful
Of the aimless chatter

In the casual fall
Of idle words
Spent
To keep misery at bay