Tag Archives: Self-turmoil

Intrinsic Instruments

Silence strangles me.

Serendipity strengthens me.

Singing is scrutiny into and of my hapless soul,

Saving my senility for something bigger to swallow;

Saving my serenity: bid for my fast safe return.

Specters in the sky, specters in the night,

Strange and lovely demons plague the air.

The stroke of the majestic midnight,

The servile recruiter of raucous tidings,

Silence strangles me,

Silence sets me free.

Saving eternity,

A saline of the sea,

A solution sprung of sanity.

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Bonus et Sapiens                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             A la Craig

Quiet lies hide the tide of change

That tries to bloom.

Indiscretion hides a bitter life of regret;

I can’t forget.

Some Sunday sun

Seems benevolent.

I question and I try to remain indifferent,

But the tides, like the ides,

Forbid me from reminiscing

Forbid me from forgiving

Forbid me from living and breathing,

For they only know bereaving.

Conscience, I’ve lived.

Decrepit, and at once livid:

I foresee a day,

A day as righteous as a flower in May.

I deliver my thanks

And I consecrate my

Banks of knowledge.

I’ve got knowledge.

But can I forget all this that I’ve tried to beget?

I want to be a new sapling; a tree. I want to be, but I want to be me.