Immune to Life

What fates a man may endure

So to kill his sense of wonder

Till all that raises a smile

Is a darkly inspired humour


The Words of a Less Wise Man Pt2

When you repeatedly rebuild empires out of ruins

Ingenuity walks astride with creativity in constant rumble

Imagination a force beyond what better blessed can comprehend

When corrupted by darker initiatives in the hour of storms

**    **   **

I was but a moral in the eye of a fitful storm

Words a plenty in the insatiable ravages of all the chaos this vessel bore

Saints so fallen and given to the bottle an eluded cure, for which the dagger bleeds a sonnet in waters corrupted by tainted lies


The Words of a Less Wise Man Pt1

The curse of a memory torn into the very fabric of a personality’s frame

When all the ruptured fragment conjures is a contrasting image to the projection we wish to dream

**    **   **

Hate is merely love with a knife in its hand

Love is just a bar steward with a knife behind its back

**    **   **

Conflict consumes resources such as sanity and stability

So do not deride a world weary man who is at war with his nature


How a Man Leans

“A person’s posture can sell an entire library of insight into their character, chapters so subtly implied in the slightest of actions”

I lean, not slouch, slump or support myself against but lean on surfaces. When I’m leaning it’s a sign that I’m safe in an environment and at work it’s a sign of control, the ability to control a room from one key location with a singular tone of authority. The action also implies a safety about my mood, an inherit security for those surrounding me as the trigger finger is resting idle at the side of my readily unfriendly temper.

The very activity of letting every muscle falter into relaxation is a thing to spread the warming calmness through my body; an equally important activity is how I resume upright motion. Too quick and assertive and I could be on the verge of a volatile reaction, slower motion an indication of mellowed resistance and a composed disposition.

The best photo of me that I can recall is me leaning against a pillar, unaware there are even cameras slyly pointing lenses in my vicinity!

So what about you:

     Do you hunch in a repressed posture of stress or frustration?

     Do you spring from one arena of action to another in energetic pose?

     Do you shape yourself into those dark corners of the room in shaded insecurity?

However your body naturally accustoms itself, I say make it yours and do it right


Tri-Factor of Failure

I sight a storm, a torrid tempest of all that natural harm can spin

I walk into it, gun upon my head and fresh bottle full

Trigger pulled, bottle adds to the empties I have piled a mountain high

But alas the joke has been heard, no end does meet this mortals attempt of worth

The bullet faulted, the torrid tearing of the wind did merely ruffle hair

The bottle only cause for a hangover sent from hell

I hath survived and now do ready myself for the next trial I must endure

And this piece even fails to rhyme!