It was a hope
That what my eyes
Glanced
Upon
Was more than just
A temporary
Feeling
But rather
Just an object
Of my gaze
Into the distance
Object Soup
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Monthly Archives: January 2022
My Juvenile Dreams
It wasn’t what
It seems
But my expectations
Always
Swing
Wildly
With hope
And fervor
But those dreams
Somehow just pass
Away without a sound
Into the life
That is
Today
Correctly Incorrect
I was not
Certain
It was the right
Decision
Within the moment
Of the correct
Vision
Instead
A incorrect
Goal
Was set
From the onset
To now
Woebegone
I’m not sure
Why
But it was never
Quite right
The way the light
Hit was more
Lit
By the smoke
In the air
Now
It was just all
Woebegone
And done
Scintillating and Onerous
It was bright
Working that day
Some days
Are not that way
Not even close
But I will take the light
Upon the work
That I do
My Chemical Thoughts
A chemical thought
Creeps into
My mind
In the time
It takes
To circumnavigate
A rather dull
Existence
Resistance
To the hopes
Of organic
Growth
These chemical thoughts
Have me
By the throat
A Sponge Verse
Not the typical prose
What I heard
I do actually know
That the soft
Sponge
Of sound
As my ears resounded
Cold hearing
In my breathe
A matter of indifference
Rather than
Upset
Furtive Drinks
We snuck
Out the back
With no one looking
Furtive drinks
Was what our minds
Were cooking
So in that moment
We disappeared
Until the night
Was darker
Than the deepest grey
And then our drinks
Were on the way
Wake Up
To the snow
And the trees
To the grass
And the hibernating
Bees
Good morning all
Good morning
Indeed
I am Obsolete
The obsolete
Path
Taken
With one wrong
Turn
Mistaken
For a way forward
Rather a way
Into obscurity
The path laid out
Will be
A Cup of Songwriting 