Thursday, February 27, 2014


Shards litter the morning
Victory bubbles in irrefutable belligerence
What win is this, that seethes in vicious malice?
As moisture leaks from reddened pores,
My countenance slows for nothing
The adaptation here is of loathsome envy.

Fuck the donor that weakened one night
His own impending darkness, the victor of fear.
Bumbling about in the blackened ambiance
Hidden red-hot borders burn, once shoulders and elbows relax.
This is madness, this door of impugned warning
Stay out- Stay out! A new sign must bear post.

I abhor this waste, the human element here is mute
Strangled by the sheer stupidity of an unknown soul
There can be no pattern forming here
Of benign indifference.
Serial numbers of warfare, discharging in thought
I grasp the tightened wind-pipe
Cinching one last puff of anger to dust;
This putrid oxygen is immutable.

And so in haste, I turn my back on the uncontrollable
Bowed in conscience for all I purged
Misdirected in my haste for answers.

There is a vein pumping somewhere,
Clean and healthy, aware of all the wrong that couldn't be helped.

And like an oil-stained miner that has been taken over by greed
I too, disengage my empathy
Galloping instead, after logic that has been starved by desperation
And the hell-bent need to wring-free of recent histories.
I am chasing a foundation that anchors in, belly-deep,
To bedrock born of virtuous champions.

To triumph in a time like now would rob me of more sensitivity,
I am torn between the care and the canker.
At 41, challenge only grows;
Like a steam-ridden locomotive, driven towards hell.

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