Tag Archives: Poet

The Last Train, Until…

Picture ya life on the subway –
Labeled a runaway.
Always taught to chase dreams, but catching them was never imagined.
On the train til infinity, where every malfunction exceeds a boundary.
The sky ain’t the limit, its the ticket.
What’s the difference?
I can see beyond the colors of the prism.
I have touched many moons.
Floating – weightless –
Patient.
Healing myself, still doctoring the wounds from when they severed the ties to my portal.
The only home I’ve known, now it just seems as if love don’t live here no more…
So I roam.
Telling the streets my secrets.
Leaving tattoos when I spit the words penetrate the skin.
The concrete cracks.
A Rose emerges.
The train door closes before I even look back…
I pricked myself on the thorns, I wail as the horn sounds…I realize
My overstanding reality is under attack.
-Vigilant Leighrick

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Broken Open

Still in a room,
A broken mirror reflects flawless smiles of all those that once stared before it.
Gleaming eyes looking for themselves in fragments of light.
I can’t yet see through.

Walking…
My tears and the street lights create stained glass.
Looking at memories abandoned in pictures, and the pain that is sheltered, buried, and concealed in temples.

Implicitly.

Shattered and now broken open.

I pick up the pieces with the roughest edges first.
I cut myself — countless times.

It hurts not to scream!
As a child you are taught that silence is comforting,
Explicitly a fools gold, a dastardly violence.

The blood has been contaminated with secrecy.
Life’s own mystery;
What good is the knowledge of hystori if the truth never gets told?

Exposed.
Undressing wounds
I see myself in rare form….beautiful….
Vulnerable.

This bigger picture envisioned is actually a puzzle;
we are each others pieces.
There are no borders, filters, nor frames….
Regardless not everyone fits, still you are..

Limitless…

-Leighrick

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Brainstorming…

The Ambition of a Writer.

I’d travel all seven seas, and spend a night in Atlantis just so one can understand the depth from which I speak.

On the days I feel all hope for my creativity has vanished,

My heart skips a beat, I begin to bleed ink,

I regurgitate my passion.

I speak,

My vocabulary expands its horizons, as my composition book fills itself with growth – and I am no master at life, but in my world imagination knows no limits.

I look outside my window, and all that appears is a blank canvas, a world unprepared for the voice of the unspoken artists…

-Leighrick

A Poets Always Right

When in doubt —

 

I will write.

I will write until there is no more ink left to fill the pens,

Nor led to be dispensed.

I will write until our civilization rids of all the trees leaving no more paper, instead

I will write until every letter falls off the keyboard.

 

 

I will sneak into the streets at night, creeping up buildings , and knocking out cameras

all to paint the city with my words.

 

I am a Writer.

I am right even when I am wrong,

because I understand my imperfections have made me flawless.

 

I AM A WRITER.

 

Even when I am wrong,

so if you’re afraid…stop reading,

Because I will write your story,

and I will tell it so right, it’ll make you look to the left in astonishment,

because you’ve told me nothing of your past, presents, or prayers for the future.

 

 

If the writing is on the wall,

I am in every text

I am every synonym, acronym , and homonym —

Trying to right my own history,

If you come aboard her story,

We shall soar like the brothers.

Only wingless, but high in spirits

 

 

I wont stop writing even when there is no longer a source of light to illuminate my message.

I wont stop writing even when I’ve used every word in every dictionary.

I wont stop until you fully understand my accuracy.

 

I AM RIGHT.

 

Thus,

 

I am Leighrick.