Impassioned phrase but soul without a soul
Streaking clever ink as waters yearn to flow
Owing only to oneself a tawdry toll
Writing a poem called avocado

Grandiloquence a symptom of the blight
The lack of sight, a cause made not to show
Inaction births a sea of songs so trite
Writing a poem called avocado

In trying for the soul we wish to be
Trying turns to trying endlessly

Swagger and strut though to him commonplace
The boy plays a play wrought of lie and deceit
Deserving he’s not and yet brought to grace
Showing his lovers an undeserved feat

They fall for it through, and then one by one
Nary the wiser for flash of a smile
Unawares that the beauty of Tyche has come
Tricked by the boy for all of a while

No ill will’d be borne if they understood
The game was a game for the good of the good

Had I known that I kept myself on that day
Like a gift, lo, I from her and she from me
Would that I had released her, my soul to stay
Exchanged pieces we, trading strikes so ghastly

Then crawling to the bed, for death, awaiting
I did die into sleep, escaping only life
Mourning that which had perished long ‘fore the sting
Blind to the irony that death bore mounting strife

Bitter barbs like icicles borne of her voice
Stinging salt welled in my eyes, I drowned by choice

Though borne of sweetest thoughts so far away
In waking hours the pinch grows acute
Until sweet slumber chases darkened day
Precious pieces marking gentle refute

Dreams are arbitered by waking thoughts
Despite the saccharine release provided
Serving only the deep emotions caught
Living only with sunlight unlighted

More heavenly sounds have not been spoken
Than your title from my lips, unbroken

The first, to tame the lusty female beast
To draw her to, and flesh to flesh, within
Of same import one must bring one to feast
On riches, delights, and gifts from heaven

Upon these notions, one must not dwell
But to pursue, to acquire, and succeed
For of breathing’s meaning, one cannot tell
Purpose though wrought of one’s will and need

If one desires lands of milk and honey
It is just to fuck bitches, get money

Part of me wants to apologize for this piece; the rest of me wants to judge anyone who would take such an apology. Thanks for reading.

A shift and stir, from side to side,
And rolling underneath,
Her sweet embrace is gentle tide
Her whispers, just beneath.

Washed upon the solid ground,
I feel a calming breeze,
Despite the earth to which I’m bound,
She puts my mind to ease.

Thrown from ship, I’ve seen the sea,
And she has seen no less of me.

The dark grey skies refused to rest,
The sea would not abate,
Frothy caps creeped up on crest,
I bowed my head, accepting fate.

On she came, oh once again,
Snapping beams asunder,
Thrown was I, to ocean den,
Blue mountains forcing under.

Use the eyes to look outside, view the curse,
Avoid hostile, selfish, and the perverse,
For they are out to kill the ones who stand,
Tall above the rest, heads above the sand.

Within the mind your hidden conscience dwells,
Seek it, lift it, delivered from the hells.

I find myself quite happy here,
A here so far from there,
But when old ghosts begin to near,
I find myself quite short of air.

Friends of old are foes reborn,
And so they have their place,
Ever hidden, scorn and thorn,
And yet they seem to know my face.

Their mournful moans, heart-wrenching,
Play softly in the azure,
Upon their thrones, most quenching,
Singing psalms of adjure.

Their place beneath the crest is holy,
A place devoid of men, so lowly.