Agreeable Vagabond

I heard about your bandwagon

Please can I jump on it

I’m an agreeable vagabond

And eager to please


Hold me let me check myself

Why hustle just jump on

There’s a seat for your ass welcome

Life is funny when worry is like all other luggage on a shelf


I know who you’ve been seeing

Brazilian girl with the full being

Now no more worry for you

Just get in and cruise let’s get her for you


You there with the fullness

Got the eyes following your finesse

Get on let’s solve your insecurity

Because when your one of many you’re just a number to me


Let’s cruise till the sun comes out

Till regret kicks in

I’m blessed cause I’ve seen

Many forget what to worry about

Valiant hero

Revel in your sin this day
For you have done more good than evil
Ended the life of a tyrannical lord truly evil
Fortune guide you on your journey we pray

Failure to conquer all he did even in his valiant fight
The minions and helpers still draw breath
A martyr he made to strengthen their resolve to fight
This victory may lead to worse outcomes and death

Off in the distance the horde approaches
Our hero had left our hospice in the night
Why did we grant this killing right
Hope our faith was not in vain or worthless

Our war God is full for many have fought and died
The children are captured along with daughters and mothers
Our chief left us and was killed amidst flight
There’s nothing left but trade with hoarders

We learn that our hero did not kill him but found him dead
Seeking glory he raised his worth above his head
Traded our secrets for a role in the horde
And stole from us and drew our blood


I could feel him smirk when he asked for our demands
For weeks we had been solid holding hands
On the steps restricting entrance to the halls
Protesting injustice with chants and calls

He looked proud of himself, held him in rather high regard
We looked at each other and held hands tighter
Lost together we’d found purpose in a cause higher
What did it matter we could not justify lofty ideals to a security guard

Time passed as I began to shake myself
The cold breeze had come and I’d remembered to shave myself
Like methyl gripping me as my odour filled around
I was perspirating like I’d been running around

I couldn’t say it because it would be over
I didn’t know why I was there to start with
Freedom was why I’d held hands but now I wondered if it was the core of my logic like a pith
He’d had cheap gloves and a comb over

My logic had more holes than his winter jacket
And I stood there getting colder
He must have seen a lot of hope as he got older
My mind was clear finally and I knew what I wanted was a jacket

For my friends and for my enemies
For peace I’m willing to get frostbite
If wars end in a fortnight
If calm was over everyone like they’d eaten some nice cheese


Worthy was he with hair so blonde
With strapping boots and a cape
A well shaven man, a strong God
Lover of many ladies and few capes

Could mete out justice on evil
But could not contend with own issues
Pride and wanderlust and tired drivel
Of fair lady Vikings and issues

Cast from his place in line
Wiped memory in a useless body
Was thought to be normal or fine
But upon recollection of lost time a man crazy

Met a doctor who showed him that powers do not make a hero
Thought love was respect as they tried to force fate
Left a lady warrior and enchantress seething with hate
When doubt on moon came, became unworthy, became zero

Beard worn fighting Viking
Striving to be worthy of more than Janbjorn
Had seen dead Gods and his future was set but struggled with living
Was at a loss for strength while torn

Unmarked Dead

You leave your dead unmarked
Like it was a crime they were born
Was getting a tombstone hard
Must have unjustly implied scorn

Your life scattered to the Gale forces
Your seed on the new sheets
You pull out to minimise your losses
It’s not your hunger when she feeds

Broken shards of what you thought you would be
Once were shouts but now whispers of Destiny
Yours is a seeming unending tragedy
You still need glasses to see

When you were still you could think
Leave the world behind and try again
After many failures you resented it all even the rain
Now you’re still and you can’t think

Life’s a struggle, you knew well
Started with a new product that didn’t sell
Was hoping for difference in your future
But all your accounts were a difference in your future

Insecure Context

I found my words lacking, my face was not as expressive as I wished.

My delivery was dry, my hair flailing my confidence waning.

Of all the trials I’ve bested this was a new strange.

An anomaly on the elevated life stage.

You see there was a beautiful female who I’d begun talking with.

Her countenance was shy so I didn’t need to be guarded instead.

I stayed as long as I could and was utterly captivated.

I was caught up in our talks when I remembered.

They came pouring like a stream:

All my flaws all at once
I was short and pudgy
I was not conventionally funny
I was an addict once

I had failed at almost everything I tried
She was successful and was probably tired
Of seeing flailing corpses be charming
Sometimes when its cold my features can look more alarming

I walked like I kicked a stone every step
I run like a vat of jello on the highway
I don’t eat a lot so my body conserves
I then over eat and add to my fatty reserves

I hide affection for people because it seems weird to be honest
I only care about my family
I have few friends to speak of when I’m honest
I get honest without alcohol inside of me

They came pouring and the situation changed
Because I could not now have a talk with her
I’d have to leave as soon as she had left I bailed
I’d rather forget my face at a bar


Life imitates art so I did not draw
Upon my past to look forward
Towards a tragic lifeless living
I’ll be an older man still unbelieving

Nectar is for the buzzing bees
I spit fire at giants resulting in scalded knees
My eyes are tired but my body hibernating
Should have spent less time looking and more time waiting

Hope comes from a well I don’t wanna dig up
I’d rather shovel toward the inevitable things
So I’m a dig a grave all of five feet deep
Because it’s not about room it’s bout if the smell will keep

Shame was like a spell ever looming

Tales. The art of telling tales. The poet's mind.