The Boys Who Left Town

There was no hope for us then

We were already too far gone

Gone from where? Neither could tell

But going gone, regardless.

Your Cynical Smile

There’s something cynical in your smile

as if I rubbed off some and forgot to say,

that I’m not that kind of cynic.

And I feel no joy from any of this.

In Our Time.

Remember— oh brothers and sisters

that we are the philosophers of our time.

Us haggard poets of principle and measure,

no matter the plight must rise.

Through tears of understanding

with honest eyes do I

accept thy pleasure’s burden—

to see within our time.

Flirting with Death

It’s much easier to lie

in the afternoon light,

steady’s the humming

bird that takes flight.

Oh whispering wind

forgive me tonight,

how flirting with death

has been a delight.

Our Current Social Dilemma

We went from public displays of affection

Straight to public displays of everything

Now leaving nothing to the imagination

Embracing it all, then apologizing for it after.

It’s like some convoluted social stream of consciousness

That forms a figure eight of disingenuous pandering

One which tastes to a choir of social unrest

Like change, its value null, when in reality it’s all just

As sad and dull as high school sex.

Confirmation(in the form of being)

Tell me his name

And I’ll give him your word

Though to an illusion

I can not confirm—

Within him lies many,

Within you lies more—

His name’s but of flesh and bone.

So tell me your name

And I’ll give you his word

Be it not an illusion,

Something I can confirm.

The Raven

The Raven waits

My answer’s no

Then leaves me with

His knowledge

Being Yourself

People always wanted you to be yourself,

except when you did, well

they didn’t like it all that much.

01/25/2021

Broken Hearts

One day

When ready

I’ll tell you a story.

A story of a boy

Who never stopped running.

I’m just not ready

To break your heart.

A Tale of Two Cities—Broken from Birth

People were always

Dying to get in, or

Dying to get out.

Nobody ever wanted

To be where they were—

And it was always that way—

It was A Tale of Two Cities.

Cruel and hostile, broken

From birth—The bread

When shared, had long since spoiled.

So left were the people’s

Disgruntled denial, who’d sacrifice

Even their own mothers love—for lies—

Because, the truth was tough

and too hard to swallow.

And it was never their fault.

But neither was it His.