Temporal Skies

Red skies tend to fill
The late summer abyss
That fades slowly into the gloaming

Where a once star speckled cosmos
Now sits behind the mist
Of lamenting clouds

Which rest amidst the bright hue
Of urban windows so dimly lit
In the slow onset of night

Where as late summer winds
Became cool autumn fog
Rosy clouds filled

The once blue sky
With a precipitation so strong
That out over the fields it wrought

The heaviest of downpours
As a red sky illuminated
The now early dusk

Of an auspicious autumnal equinox.





Crashing waves break
On the stoned barricades
That protect the worn lighthouse
That guides my path to shore

As the murky waves
Rock my battered raft
Amongst the debris of loss
That surround the possessions

Of the departed sacrifices
That worshipped the stormy waters
As their chains shook in unison
Far below the living surface

Where the lights
Of a once mighty ship
Began to disappear
One by one

As the depths claimed their final victim.





I once claimed to understood
Just why some feel the need to settle
For a life of less,

But in time I came to see that a life of less
Was merely a life where power
Could persue alternate direction

Beyond the watchful eye of a life
In front of open cameras and eyes
That flickered as they criticized

All those whose power complexes
Had to be satiated at all times
But most easily in the thatched homes

That sat ornately decorated
By passing seasons
That gave no respite to a purgatory

That drove men’s true nature’s to rise,
Because there is nothing more fragile
Than the gilded male ego

For ignorance dwells in the hearts
And fragile minds of the most ordinary
Who settle for a life of less

To guise their tendencies, most certainly more.





In a world where to be anything
One can but day dream
Desires so hopeful

That upon waking
Their essence gives
Just that meaning more

To a life of imperfection
Where constant anxiety drives
The many hours that give way

To broken nights
Of solitude so damned
That the bitter frost just outside

Meant nothing to the hoary air
That permeated that little room
Where panic and raw sentiment

Sat so plainly irrelevant
To the changing skies
Which were the only onlookers

To pardon that lonely soul
As it drifted further and further
Into a twilight from which

It may never return
For maybe in the shadows
A soul could lust without ridicule

As if it were criminal to desire to be wanted.