vox clamantis in deserto

Shrewdly So

An angel’s eyes met mine
for a moment clandestine;
from her gaze I surmised
that all the words of the wise,
or any answer worth it to find,
lie locked inside the divine mind.


Withering Roses

At the peak of my fatigue
I stole a glance in your direction;
the shining source of my intrigue
in which I see my own reflection;
twin tales that tell of truth,
but yet unseen where lips may lie;
in our eyes the burning youth,
a promise that passion will never die;
just for now is it ours to keep,
should either accept the gifted rose;
both unknowingly fated to weep
if nonchalantly a different road chose;
still uncertain what I can give,
if there is anything left at all;
show me what it is to truly live,
grab my hand before I fall.

[一] 二 三 四 五 六 七 八 九 十

An emotional track for me off the “Under Your Spell” album from my favorite band.

I’ve been listening to them for over a decade now, and I’m grateful for every minute of it.


Pain echoes,
so aptly this form chose;
entertaining the formless,
our misery adorns us;

Gracefully struggle grows
into bittersweet crescendos,
applauded in mourning
yet deceptively alluring;

Sticking into the fabric,
desperately we try to grab it;
effort falling on empty ears,
preoccupied with nonsensical fears;

Glistening wasteful behavior,
dissent becoming the savior;
beautiful sustained resistance,
working to balance the difference.


That ever elusive singular expression,
resting just beyond my line of sight;
I will claw to the bone to claim it,
my thoughts the embodiment of a tempest.

Even amid immense effort,
this resolve that drips ferocity,
meaning escapes like a bandit;
you may inherit this burden,
but in time my relief will come.

I will become the veil,
such that no gaze shall pierce
nor intellect conquer the enigma;
but its beauty will be known,
a testament to the dreams of a young man.


Ever cognizant of the grave,
I held tightly to a single thought;
that of which I might yet save,
the reason for the battle fought;

that unrelenting tidal wave,
reducing all in its path to naught;
despite this threat, I stood brave,
never forgetting what was sought.

The Serpent

Come child, and look upon this evil trick,
watch as in doubt’s house is laid another brick;
nudge just enough and certainly one will find
a teetering of sanity present in the mind;
suspicions sneak slowly but wild thoughts run,
in this unraveling is where to find good fun;
there is no limit to what a spider will do
to prey wrapped in such lovely shades of blue;
humans seldom know overflowing malice,
but thirst runs deep when chaos is your chalice;
each time passion slips over the brink

a wicked grin is flashed, a savoring of drink;
there is no taste quite as sweet as fear,
it alone suffices for me to wander near;
oh, it can be such a childish error
when brave hearts feel immune to terror;
be sure delight is taken in ever proving wrong
courage in a place that it does not belong;
yes, poor child, it’s purely on your dime
that regret is sculpted to wisely spend my time;
chipping away gradually at everything built
to proudly watch a soul be consumed by guilt;

is it tiring to be tempted in every breath?
Trials unending until peaceful death;
curse whoever wrought this ridiculous mess,
indeed more than one receives this address;
heir of sin referred to as the son of man
or amorphous construct with masterful plan;
only upon arrival of the final hour
will we witness who holds almighty power;
come when it may, this hate can wait forever,
unlike mortals, enthralled but not quite so clever;
unaware of who with each of them even dines,

always lacking discernment to see between lines;
oh, how wide the gap separating what they perceive
and that which would be wise to believe;
pray tell how deception be ghoulish
enacted upon creatures unfathomably foolish;
spare me trending arbitrary morals
when endlessly your lot persists with trivial quarrels;
problems compounding like droplets of rain,
yet man proclaims he deserves the lion’s mane?
Child, despite what may have been taught
all those fruitless dreams will bear only naught;

confused little seeds hoping to one day bloom,
blissfully unaware they grow towards doom;
plunged into suffering the moment of given life,
oh, how vast the time allotted to sharpen this knife;
not likely to draw blood is the blade’s cut,
no, preferred is birth of a self-destructive rut;
how similar to worms my victims squirm!
Trapped in crafty netting so thorough and firm;
a fisherman who baits his hook with lies
but in truth his strongest suit is disguise;
fashioning light itself into a shadowy cloak,

feigning kindness in that so softly spoke;
all the while delicately leading astray,
nary a sheep this silver tongue could not sway;
untold are the opportunities in which to wade
after developing the prowess to persuade;
if ever a sacred vow is slipping,
behind curtains poisonous fangs are dripping;
from genesis undertaken was a mission
to rend Earth and witness unholy fission;
burn the opposing book, it matters not what was written,
the promise of life ends after the serpent has bitten.

Girl At The Bar

She’s sleepwalking in a neon wonderland,
holding hands with monsters in red,
allured by the thought of something grand,
even as her wounds tore open and bled.

She closes her eyes to resume the healing,
while those around her continue to take,
completely she depends on the feeling,
struggling to separate the real and the fake.

She’s beautiful in her dress made of stars,
everyone overly eager to offer a drink,
but she’s not impressed by money and cars,
reserving admiration for those who make her think.

She relentlessly endures suitors flirting,
amateurs unaware their chances are zero,
one by one she leaves them hurting,
until the day comes when she finds her hero.

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