CRANIUM CONVICT

There are no bars here

I’m surrounded by a cranium

Chained to all of my fears

Packed together like a stadium

I spend my days swimming

In dirty thoughts and brain pollution

Mind’s so heavy that the world’s spinning

And the body breaks as it aches for a solution

I stretch my limbs and the tired gray matter

An aching body helps silence brain chatter

I slaved, after all, for years to make myself fatter

I’m older now so it’s time to save what matters

I’m warming up to the idea and to the grind

A part of me fears whatever I will break

But I want to build a house that can house my mind

A healthy place of refuge for when I need a break

– theresurreccionofkevin

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POPULATION: ME

Some people ask my occupation

I say it’s fevered contemplation

Of my place in life, my station

Feeling great without the self-deprecation

Because my fears make me a patient,

A prisoner of obsession

So it’s time for some appreciation

A bit of caring for the state of the nation

Population: Me

– theresurreccionofkevin

BAD TRIP

They always call “it” a bad trip

It’s like a movie. There’s a bad clip

Of a person making sad slips

On bananas. It’s a back flip

Onto pavement. Sounds of cracked hip

Bruised lip, makes it tricky for a glad sip

Of medicine. The pain radiates like mad grips

On last bits of snack bits. I say this

‘Cause the bad trips come like a lamp lit

So bright that I can’t hit

The marks that with past wit

Were scored. But now it’s bad, kid.

That’s the fad, kid. ‘Cause God forbid we ad lib

Down the slinking spiral trash trip.

‘Cause life’s a bad trip, that’s “it”.

But I’m glad that I can live with it.

– theresurreccionofkevin

EARNED REST

I’ve long had time to toss and turn

At night, the restless mind shall churn

The milk of sleep of which I yearn

Now still, like ashes in an urn

My body aches. This old pattern

I wish to break. Today I spurn

The call of blanket, bed, and learn

To move each finger point, in turn

The toes, and then the rest. I burn

My screeching joints. I’m unconcerned

Of acid in the veins. Concern

Keeps nightmares coming undisturbed.

My aching body spreads the word

That toil brings rest, which I have earned

– theresurreccionofkevin

CAN(N)ON FODDER

I need to feed the canno(n)ade

That sings its anthems (o)ver us

I read (t)he sparks that trail the streams

Some inspiration (w)hisks away

The dullness (o)f the starless night

Forever joined in memo(r)y

Ma(t)erial chosen carefully

All honed wit(h) years of toil

Within a moment’s t(i)me, consumed

I despera(t)ely replace

The paper, inked with ye(a)rs of toil

And with it, powder, kep(t) as dry

As desert s(a)nd. And so was I,

In ages past when sparks were sma(l)l

Like dogs, I (l)icked each drop of fire.

The sea (O)f flame has fed my brain

I will con(T)inue with this work

To (L)ight the night sky with these words

– theresurreccionofkevin