#sisyphean
Daydreams-
scattered clouds
of feather down
radiating gold around,
lacing outer bounds,
heaven sent
and proudly crowned;
profound and renowned,
astounding throughout-
I bow, devout.
Drowsy, I arouse
raising brow
wondering about
shadows casting doubt
like a shroud.
Thunderstorm
announces with a howl,
sky’s wide mouth shouts,
with a sound devours;
growling gigawatts
of gouging power
on the prowl.
I cower,
loud as a mouse,
counting the amount
of seconds I allow
to slip by every hour;
scavenging and scrounging
to find a route,
I flounder
until I found
a seed endowed;
forged in drought
and valor.
Spouting fountain,
dousing the ground
in a shower;
unwound, this sprout
and boughs will tower;
a house beneath
its blossomed flower.
I build a mound,
even if I can't surmount,
my spirit is scoured-
and I vow this garden is ours.
Aug 12, 2022
Aug 12, 2022 at 11:09 PM UTC
You purport that you
are always right
with verbiage, loud
designed to confuse
fomenting exasperation
with this constant fight
and sisyphean failure
to change your views.
Sep 15, 2020
Sep 15, 2020 at 8:22 AM UTC
I stack the round stones
From the river, my sculpture grows—
Crow will knock it down.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 3:53 AM UTC
Things are ok
Not dead and currently that’s a good thing
Optimism abound,
Climbing mountains only to jump off the other side
Hoping to find some understanding or meaning
Or even a median in space, or time
Precariously traversing the rock face
Walking down a fine white line
Seeing the whole world unfolding before you
Only you’re too focused on climbing
To appreciate the view (Tunnel Vision living)
Faltering now, nascent feelings of inadequacy cloud your mind
Who are you kidding?
Latent feelings of inadequacy? (Yes)
Cliché existential crises? (God Yes)
Denial? (Don’t stop!)
Atoms for Peace on repeat (Before your very eyes)
Sinking into it like a warm bath
A glass of absinthe and a head full of dreams
Though you aren't asleep
Sinking into that hole, it feels like dying
The room spins
Senses rapidly disintegrate, one by one
A nothingness deeper and more profound than anything
Timothy Leary knew
As your head dips below the surface
A ******* child, D.M. Turner minced with Kerouac
Or a laudanum laced Thomas De Quincey
You saw god that night,
The layers peeled away
It was pure chaos and caustic fear
Brimming with breathtakingly beautiful apathy and acceptance
Quantum clairvoyance springs forth
You see how the cards will fall
God reminds you, “Everyone dies alone”
And you know the truth, he doesn't have to tell you:
God isn't there when you die
Smiling peacefully as your Sisyphean plight dissolves into the night
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 8:21 PM UTC