Seed

Sometimes,
I feel like a seed.
A potential inert,
A possibility to succeed.
So just put me in the dirt
And give me what I need.
How else can I avert?
How else can I exceed?

Other times,
I feel hurt.
Just a societal weed.
A potential victim on alert,
Nurtured only when I bleed.
I don’t mean to be curt,
How else can I plead?
How else can I divert?
How else can I be freed?

I am the hurt seed, the weed that’s only freed by the blood that it bleeds. Put into the dirt just wishing to exceed. Inert without encouragement, unable to succeed. Thus, I plead; Be alert to my need. Don’t divert or think me curt, I just want to succeed.

So just burry me
And perhaps this seed
Will grow
Into a weed.

---

Watch this poem on YouTube

This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly

If I was to die, would you cry?
Would you look up at the sky and scream why?
Would you lament being shy for not asking after I?

Please do not deny.

Just know that I am forgetting my why.
You don’t need to be a spy to see that I don’t have the energy to try.
Truth is, I’ve barely enough to sigh.
No longer spry, no longer able to apply, no longer able to fly.
How can I amplify? How can I stay wry? How can I make that pie?
I’m just a lonely guy, trying to imply the need for you to reply.

Perhaps I need to demystify before I say goodbye.
Perhaps I need to clarify before I horrify.
Perhaps I need to verify before I falsify with this note left to justify the lullaby.

Don’t worry. These words are a lie, just a sly attempt to identify.
Just an attempt to pre-emptively reclassify when you turn a blind eye.
Just an attempt to declassify and diversify the constant misapply.
Just an attempt to edify you on the thoughts that multiply, the need to certify, the ennui.

I see how others get by. They gratify and deify; they codify and fortify. Believing that the Mystify will specify how they should diversify.

But not me.

I can’t believe that rallying cry.
Life has no retry.
Just a constant attempt to scrape by under a dark sky.
Just a vain attempt to signify.
Just cause and effect bound to the wings of a butterfly. 

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Scrying Thoughts

Bong hit
smoke eyes.
See life
fathers’ eyes.

Different pain
new disguise.
Hot take
fresh lies.

Core aspects
I despise.
Diverted focus
Stoned highs.

Scrying thoughts
child cries.
Look close
perpetual demise.

Broken dreams
sharp knives.
Self-worth
clichéd rhymes.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.