Often travelers who start to thirst
Are greeted by a vision
Perhaps of an oasis
Perhaps maybe even a whole caravan
But although the traveler
May seem so content
His vision tempting his salivation
Throat cracking
The heat beating him down
Bones dried upon the sand
Calling for the lost prayers
From false gods

It’s strange really,
How a poet stops writing
As many poets cannot simply quit their craft
As if drugs to an addict
Maybe they moved to pens and papers
Maybe they simply gave up
Unfulfilled
I await your return
Friend

Serendipity in the Mundanity
We sit and we observe our lives
And we simply live day by day
Not prepared for the cycle to end
But the it does
And we’re lost
As a boat in a storm
As shoes with no feet
We sometimes must just sit
And appreciate
That though we’re cyclical
We must break the cycle
To truly appreciate life

The steel constrictor
wraps tighter around my
aching bones

Every gasping
painful breath
leads me away from home

Why do I feel like
I need you to live

Why do I
want you back.

The spear moved in slow motion
As if moving through water
Heading for your heart
Finding the mark
And tried
Gone

Once upon
I felt the call
To take a midnight walk
And stumbling through
The misty streets
A voice began to talk

Fear not said ye
The angels call
I must have reached the Lord
But falling through
The gravel road
The stone and I’m the sword

The king of far
And futures will
Be beckoned by the light
With fist and tongue
He rules below
The tempting of his might

And yet we see
His gentler heart
Indulging in the arts
The king at last
Usurped from throne
The Jester’s reign then starts

The midnight walk
Turns into morn
And visions fade away
But jesters in
the place of kings
Will never go away

Don’t cast me aside again
Or run away with my heart
Run away with my hopes and aspirations
Knowing I can’t love the same