A Cold Dusk

Without further ado…


A Cold Dusk

It burns,

coldly,

in the evening sun;

that sun I sought to share with you. 

~

I feel its coarse whiskers there-abound,

scratching against my eyes and cheeks.

I wish at once for something softer.

~

Should my torture then not be complete,

I am reminded at the thought of it,

that blasted, evil thing 

that I took no small part in. 

~

I am alone in my own way,

brought to my knees to beg again for a self I once knew,

afraid of what I’ve become anew.

~

Tending then to my own desire,

I have shorn away my flame and fire,

blown out and lost atop a sunken pyre. 

~

Lost as I am in the lying desert,

I seek to drown myself in lying dust

as my soul has taken to the coldest dusk.

O’ Brother, Art Thou?

Hey folks. Getting another one out here since it’s almost June. I really need to keep up with my website here, and at some point I really will redesign it so it works better. I appreciate everybody coming to read my stuff, even if most of my views are AI bots scraping for content. Without further ado…


O’ Brother, Art Thou?

Deigning to fail,

I have done so again.

I watch and wait

against the stroke of a pen.

~

Beautiful blues

and verdant greens

bely the depth

of ungiven means. 

~

A simple cloud,

so perched in the sky

as a Rorschach test

and cause to lie.

~

Listen now

to the chirping of birds,

like last time then,

but this time in thirds.

~

Cut away,

I am apart

from all those things

I made myself a part.

~

Dark undercurrent

of the evening Sun

incites in me a drive

to turn tail and run.

~

Can you see the new one?

We Who Know Cannot Return

Hey folks. Check this one out! Without further ado…


We Who Know Cannot Return

I smelled sunshine

that last time,

the first time,

this time.

Always and forever cloaked in aged twine.

Never did I understand

that gentle reprimand,

how age’s sweet kiss

turned from youth and bliss.

One by one in turn I saw

in visage so raw

how stairs became steep;

my youth I prayed to keep.

And beyond those ruby fields

were iron eyes steeled,

impugned by what I had sought,

in terror of things wrought.

Up and up into the sky,

into then whatever might lie,

concealed,

beyond those ruby fields.

New Gallery Posts!

Happy Saturday, everybody. No poem today but I posted a bunch of new pictures to my gallery if anybody would like to take a look. If you’d like to support my continued work, don’t forget that donation links and forms are at the bottom of my About Me page. Thank you all for all the support you’ve shown my work and continue to show for my website. It means so much to me :).

Can You Make It Make Sense?

Good morning, all. It doesn’t make sense. Never makes sense. Can you make it make sense? Probably not. I guess we’ll see. Enjoy the poem today, friends. It’s a short one.


What is Perfect is not Flawless

What is perfect is not flawless.

No, it is not contradictory.

Me?

A hypocrite?

A liar?

Never the man you think I am.

Never the man I think I am.

What is perfect is not flawless.

Made in the image of Gods.

How could you be imperfect?

Even the Gods were not flawless,

no matter how perfect.