What We Chose

Reflections of mangled confidences
In incandescent words
Of inevitable losses
Those who sought redemption
From repudiated horrors
Of untimely hours
In muted reveries;
Vaporized voices of intangibilities.

Airtight metal doors locked;
Unresponsive to patterned codes
Of likely misconstrued rhetorics;
Of queasily relinquished prides;
In quizzical encumbrances
In unrequited diminishing vortices.

Anthropomorphically weighed physics
Of bleakly styled truths
Or exquisitely chiseled fallacies.
Where comforted comorbidities
Of mythological redundancies
And existential deities,
Salve.

Spouting extrications of love’s yearnings
Hopelessly behind those locked doors
In layered inquiries of reality, prophecies
And connected scales of measured precisions
Of ethically disapproved pursuits;
Pierced valves of barely perceived incisions.

Here’s a secret,
Morality is whatever I wanted it to be.

Pointed Spears

What were the chances.
I thought them high;
High enough to
Search through monuments
Without a map to guide,
Building babbling towers
Towards the heavens,
Wading in waterfall fountains
Of penniless coin tosses

Or was that chance
Worth all this.

But doubt,
Friend or foe,
I can’t seem to tell.

But love
We know.

Wavering heart entrances,
Shields in steadfast motion;
Barricades of rhythmic paces;
Steadily we march,
After bypassing defenses
Overtly dressed
In bare nakedness
In lines of verses
With spears pointed
At those with chances.