RSS Feed

Circuitous Disasters and other Wide-Ranging Fortuitous Ramblings

 

Circuitous disasters

Cicadas spinning strong

Songs of triumphant kings

Prevailing over beasts unfound

 

Catastrophic devastations

Birth from adders in a cobras bay

War-strung harmonies are all that play

Coveting the smoldering of a desisted day

 

The cloaks are grey

The smocks are red

The iron is steady

The flesh is dead

 

Fear, fear, fear, is in the backseat when you’re with me dear…hear, hear, hear me spell your name in a sleep so real

 

Presorted cards of calculated potential

Despite not knowing the square root of nothing-doing,

You still deliberate your tentative response, with a quick

Swig of whiskey and a book casing clothed in math

 

Insidious dimensions

Arithmetically aligned

To all and each of what shall we find

When perusing through the sanctions of your most precious plots in mind

 

Tortuous dominions

All brash and bark

Full-fledglings beneath you

Now as you hunt blindfolded

Along a path so dark

 

Risk me the riddle

Answer the shine

Blowtorch the vacuum

With a shot of the strange

 

Prolonging the loudspeaker, it’s several of hymns

Scratching the needle, not close to the ending note though, not near

Where the first of it’s five minutes begin

 

And a tornado far-flung it’s fantastic rope

Dangling clockwise in the conundrums revolutionary pit

Clocking out

Clicking in

Checking space

Twiddling thumbs

Until

Then…that point when,

Time trials whisk away

Every temptation to spin dangerously near my eyes

Collisions

Earth-quaking numb

Dumb

Succumbed

Blonde, not blue, not black, not white, I quiver in the conversations that rely on observation, as I’ve only ever offered the world as seen through these wonderful, yet self-deceptive pair my sockets hide…

 

And the dreamer finds himself a’ wondering

‘How does an angler never catch a rock with such taut lines?’

 

And all is fine, all is fine

As the trumpets blare

Tunes told twice

To the skyline’s neon growth

To the theoretical ghost to which once spoke

Songs to the Forensic tech

Who happened to find the assignation to the crime

Was devised in an empty room that he alone should

Stumble upon, where it was his duty solitarily, to drum up

Some sort of answer to the blank resolve that he there would find

 

…and he would find it

 

 

 

Advertisements

About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: