It’s A Sparse Paradise These Days

It’s a sparse paradise these days
Feeling another season coming on
Not supposed to feel like this
At least that’s the way we’ve been drawn

She’s still the poor pretty rich girl
Never could get off the same page
Repeat struggles to survive
Tripping on my lines; a vapid stage

Reality is an emotion detached from my soul
You never needed everyone to love you
Instilled confidence to merely exist
Forethought is a luxury that might just be true

Transcripts of the past’s failures
We’ve learned, but not out of society’s grip
False starts & then some
Rising, but we’re still not quite hip

Plastering The Interweb With Fragmented Thought

Plastering the interweb with fragmented thought Cultivating an insane kind of fame Convincing an illiterate society That you’re more than just a silly name Penning out frivolously piddly odes Basking in the lack of their attention span Trying so hard to be cool, plus Your slams make me not want to give a damn The barely legible equivalent of an Insta-model Don’t you know, writers write & speakers squeak A farce played out in bits & bytes Preying on the vapid, the stupid & the weak You’ve grown your hipster beard You fancy yourself as suave & dapper But I know your dirty little secret That you’re no PaRappa the Rapper

I’m Tired Of Being So Dry

I’m tired of being so dry
In need of an outlet to release my brain
Creativity gone; leaving me stagnant
Building into a wreck of anxiety & pain

My thoughts stunted by vapid feelings
Finding myself too tense, filled with stress
Needing to drink from restorative waters
Like those I found under her dress

The Voices Come Calling

The voices come calling

Like shattered visitors in the night

Darkness expunged within thought

Auditioning words; trying to get it right

Vapid orations coming from the podium

Stacks of the wrong books & loose leaf notes

The dumbing down makes a tedious existence

But ideas are the traditional spark of an antidote