theperplexedpoet

[theperplexedpoet]

menace to society

you can't shame me with your labels I'm not here for your propriety won't buy your falsehoods and fables I'm a menace to society I will dream of new tomorrows where we shed your greed and sin free from all these induced sorrows and the borrowed ways you win I will hope beyond all reason and I'll do it even when such behaviors aren't in season and leave scars upon the skin you can't shame me with your crosses I'm not here for your faked piety you should know to cut your losses I'm a menace to society I will fight against injustice which you've all but guaranteed we're the final front, it's just us why you've got us set to bleed I will charge my voice and use it show others there is a need we must only ever choose it all it takes to plant the seed you can't shame me with your labels I'm not here for your propriety won't buy your falsehoods and fables I'm a menace to society I will dream beyond your limits and escape the binds that tie us to all your deadly gimmicks that you've sentenced us to buy I will hope beyond all reason never submit or comply be the flame that I believe in that you never can deny you can't shame me with your crosses I'm not here for your faked piety you should know to cut your losses I'm a menace to society I will take up Justice's sword from where you have let it fall knowing that we cannot afford than to give less than our all I will charge my voice and use it always holding her scales tall won't allow you to refuse it refute it with your cabal you can't shame me with your labels I'm not here for your propriety won't buy your falsehoods and fables I'm a menace to society (11/21/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

I came to touch the fire

I came to touch the fire got lost within the flame gave over to desire all of it wore your name I see where this is going I see that I am gone I have no way of knowing if this survives the dawn my will is overthrowing all sense of right and wrong the winds of change are blowing a chill is coming on I came to touch the fire got lost within the flame gave over to desire all of it wore your name I see that I am falling I see where I first fell your gaze hit like a calling I was under its spell hearts find the end appalling but that will never quell the days before installing the triggers and missed tells I came to touch the fire got lost within the flame gave over to desire all of it wore your name I see where this is going I see where it all went I had no way of knowing how much of me I'd spent the mask was always showing should have taken the hint I guess that's part of growing is learning what it meant I came to touch the fire got lost within the flame gave over to desire all of it wore your name (11/21/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

getting kind of swampy

no matter which side you're on the elephant or the donkey you have to admit now that it is getting kind of swampy catch the clues see the trail know it's true built to fail 'tis not greatness that he seeks bidding of his benefactors in the sycophantic fleet that he now has trailing after breaking systems and people will leave no refuge, no quarter he's preying from the steeple to sow chaos and disorder no matter which side you're on the elephant or the donkey you have to admit now that things are getting kind of swampy catch the clues chase the tail know the hue built to fail 'tis not greatness that he seeks we have seen this playbook before knows the profits to be reaped he brings his cronies to the store he will leave no safety nets he is preying from the steeple regretting that red vote yet he's not bringing the best people no matter which side you're on the elephant or the donkey you have to admit now that it is getting kind of swampy catch the clues see the trail know it's true built to fail 'tis not greatness that he seeks with his pu$$y-grabbing posse take a whiff, see how it reeks coming in all Kamikaze not here for We the People he was given quite clear orders he's preying from the steeple to sow chaos and disorder no matter which side you're on the elephant or the donkey you have to admit now that things are getting kind of swampy catch the clues chase the tail know the hue built to fail (11/20/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

indestructible (when destiny is dancing)

once was indestructible or so I had believed was far more corruptible than I could have conceived and other truths were traded before they could be sold so none were celebrated or allowed to take hold once was indestructible at least that's what I thought has proven combustible more so than I was taught no caution was exercised and no reserves were stored so it all was compromised and sold off to the board when destiny is dancing each of her moves is staged the rhythm is enchanting stepping across the grave once was indestructible was something I just knew but truth's ineluctable and this was not that hue so parts that really mattered pieces that were preferred all ended up here shattered where they were then interred when destiny is dancing each of her moves is staged the rhythm is enchanting stepping across the grave the choir of circumstance sings so long as she's engaged when destiny is dancing none of us can be saved once was indestructible in the mind of a child notion wasn't functional when out there in the wild and other truths were traded before they could be bought all underestimated were slated to be taught when destiny is dancing each of her moves is staged the rhythm is enchanting stepping across the grave the choir of circumstance sings so long as she's engaged when destiny is dancing none of us can be saved once was indestructible or so I had believed was far more corruptible than I could have conceived (11/19/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

let's do it to it (pieces of pawns)

the pieces line up across the board we know that time's up but can't afford a way to climb up or change the chord so here we wind up falling on swords let's do it to it make 'em rue it they picked the game and we said screw it the pieces set out across the field with shadows of doubt that haven't healed that's what it's about the sword and shield so let them find out just what we wield this ruck and muck shit make 'em duck it they picked the lane now we say fuck it the pawns fill the front each have their squares it's the same old stunt they always dare the pawns take the brunt tis ours to bear disposable grunts it's why we're there let's do it to it make 'em rue it they picked the game so we say screw it the pieces fall down it's what we do our blood soaks the ground when bills come due we pay by the pound pray we come through and all for a crown that we once knew this ruck and muck shit make 'em duck it they picked the lane now we say fuck it the pawns fall faster than other ranks bid by our masters with little thanks but what comes after we've been outflanked the booming laughter of lesser tanks let's do it to it make 'em rue it they picked this hell so let's get to it (11/16/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

his dreams were bits of color (in a world of black and white)

his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white they resembled each other through a certain lens and light made it hard to recover on the other side of night his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white his mind gave him a palette placed a brush there in his hand world wouldn't let him have it didn't fit within the plan but the hues formed a habit that he couldn't understand his mind gave him a palette and his purpose took command his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white they resembled each other through a certain lens and light made it hard to recover on the other side of night his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white his mind gave him a palette granted a perspective shift was considered invalid for the world just loves a twist the chorus sings his ballad from the risers in the rift his mind gave him a palette it was thought to be a gift his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white they resembled each other through a certain lens and light made it hard to recover on the other side of night his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white his mind gave him a palette more dangerous than it seemed was nothing on his ballot save for the desire to dream was something of an addict made the days that much more mean his mind gave him a palette was just how his world was seen his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white they resembled each other through a certain lens and light made it hard to recover on the other side of night his dreams were bits of color in a world of black and white his mind gave him a palette placed a brush there in his hand world wouldn't let him have it didn't fit within the plan (11/16/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

the world was burning bridges

I sipped a little courage putting the leaf to flame which caught upon the footbridge and burned it just the same I watched it there transforming saw it becoming ash would there be any warning before it's set to crash I sipped a little courage beneath the weight of shame spilled some upon the footbridge and gave it to the flame the night was rightly storming conditions for collapse the fire itself was warming its roar sounded of taps the world was burning bridges and so I played along but the act discourages the righting of the wrong I sipped a little courage then sipped a little more made the fire on the footbridge easier to ignore I felt myself transforming stumbling to the crash so many words of warning still there I fell to ash the world was burning bridges and so I played along but the act discourages the righting of the wrong I sipped a little courage resilience the aim the falling of the footbridge was left up to the flame the night was rightly storming we'd left too many gaps the fires under-performing was just me who collapsed the world was burning bridges and so I played along but the act discourages the righting of the wrong I sipped a little courage then sipped a little more made the fire on the footbridge easier to ignore I felt myself transforming stumbling to the crash so many words of warning still there I fell to ash (11/15/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore... the winds have blown, and we've been thrown far over the rainbow now only the color's gone and it's all black & white too late to ask how, we're in the fight and it's plain to see we've become a parody the progeny of what used to be when “we” became “me” in that generational twist it all got flipped, we turned it around everything went upside down, we felt it shift the “meme-ification” of our federation shook us to our core and cracked the foundation I said it before, and I'll say it again, but this time with frustration I don't think we're in Kansas anymore... the wicked corrode the fields cultivated and curated as the discourse erodes on this yellow brick road where there's no place like home but we have long known that home feels like a four letter word these days as we sit back in a haze and tell of how we fell from this place of grace a once sacred space we had long desecrated the presence and traces of our hate have over-saturated the grounds as we crown this king of the clowns the “Pumpkin-spice Hitler” of this mean, new routine so idiosyncratic it's automatic for the equal but who even qualifies as “equal” anymore under this crude regime I said it before, and I'll say it again and run that shit deep we'll prop up the steeple I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, people... once a child in awe as Oz demystified the wizard and identified the sister on whom houses were dropped helluva a market decline, I could've, should've, would've thought if I'd had a clue at the time but I was just nine, wasn't in my purview of understanding but there it was on the silver screen, the serene technicolor dream commanding and demanding my attention not to mention the suspension of my disbelief now an adult in awe of our very own dystopic, Ozian composite again belief is suspended, and all is upended, but only because I can't believe what I'm seeing painted over the world we knew or claimed was “ordained” and “unalienable” in that time we've forgotten, its inheritance rotten like remnants of cotton we've left on the vine I said it before, and I'll say it another time if you don't mind I don't think we're in Kansas anymore (11/14/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

blessing of the poets (the consecrated rhyme)

they tread across the boards to bare their soul through word the power of the sword in every line we heard didn't even know it the stars would rearrange blessing of the poets the world's about to change anointed in rhythms expressed in measured time inspiration given the consecrated rhyme they tread across the boards to offer up their heart and in us strike a chord to lead us through the dark to help us see our place so much of it a gift touch of the poet's grace the whole world starts to shift anointed in rhythms expressed in measured time inspiration given the consecrated rhyme they tread across the boards grant access to their pain an unspoken accord beneath each their refrains couldn't help but show it the sanctity within blessing of the poets the magic of the pen anointed in rhythms expressed in measured time inspiration given the consecrated rhyme they tread across the boards to bare their soul through word the power of the sword in every line we heard (11/14/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

'Murica's 1st felon (government for sale)

government for sale get it while it lasts posts going for scale you'd better act fast cabinet of horrors sycophantic slate the swampy corridors making nothing great one big fucking clown show all it ever was problem is we now know dumb is as dumb does government for sale get it while it lasts posts going for scale you'd better act fast forget 47 this is something new 'Murica's 1st felon and his motley crew so many ill-equipped this is no balm, sir you're just the biggest dick since Arnold Palmer government for sale get it while it lasts posts going for scale you'd better act fast fuckery abounding cronyism plays alarm bells are sounding too many unfazed all sounds so familiar dumpster fire spreads baby-handed Hitler democracy dead government for sale get it while it lasts posts going for scale you'd better act fast cabinet of suss 'spects sycophantic slate swampy halls of Congress making nothing great evidence provided our shares have been sold Citizens United gave it to the gold government for sale get it while it lasts posts going for scale you'd better act fast forget 47 this is something new 1st convicted felon and dictator too (11/13/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

a table full of cards

slept among the sages was shattered into shards gave them to the pages a table full of cards always played it open I always let them see ways that I was broken and who I've failed to be never kept it hidden as wounds were inflicted none of it was bidden still all of it scripted slept among the sages was shattered into shards gave them to the pages a table full of cards always played it open I never tried to hide pieces that were broken the pain I held inside never kept it hidden I kept the scars in view though it was forbidden it's what I had to do slept among the sages was shattered into shards gave them to the pages a table full of cards always played it open much farther from the chest kept me from the slope and made sure I gave my best never kept it hidden not what I thought to do though it was forbidden it's how I made it through slept among the sages was shattered into shards gave them to the pages a table full of cards (11/12/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

went on an inward journey (back in the mind of midnight)

back in the mind of midnight beneath the wicked's spell where curses tend to burn bright within the lights of hell and dreamers tend to take flight with no more tales to tell back in the mind of midnight where all that's good once fell went on an inward journey that then defined my days the pen would try to turn me set me against my ways and since I was still learning some lenses fit my gaze as such I kept returning now here I am today back in the mind of midnight beneath the wicked's spell where curses tend to burn bright within the lights of hell and dreamers tend to take flight with no more tales to tell back in the mind of midnight where all that's good once fell went on an inward journey found shadows there within each acted as a turnkey to hold me in their sin and since I was still learning took pieces of them in each of them is still burning leave scars upon my skin back in the mind of midnight beneath the wicked's spell where curses tend to burn bright within the lights of hell and dreamers tend to take flight with no more tales to tell back in the mind of midnight where all that's good once fell went on an inward journey and I am on it still the pen knew it could turn me perhaps it always will and since I am still learning have pieces left to fill will try to be discerning had stayed that way until back in the mind of midnight beneath the wicked's spell where curses tend to burn bright within the lights of hell and dreamers tend to take flight with no more tales to tell back in the mind of midnight where all that's good once fell went on an inward journey that then defined my days as such I kept returning now here I am today (11/12/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

long ago this threshold crossed (this is called the final hour)

“the writer becomes the circumstances I call this, the final hour...” long ago this threshold crossed set the stage in volume one now the writer, he is lost knowing not what he's become pint for pint inked the pages sinful wages paid in blood carrying this for ages hoping to outpace the flood long ago this threshold crossed paths carved out, were not discreet how the writer first was lost followed nothing but his feet pint for pint, the breadcrumbs laid sum afraid of all its parts the wages were always paid as the flood would take the heart beyond the mind's own limits was a point of no return gave in expecting gimmicks was when I first felt the burn long ago this threshold crossed found a shadow deep within aided him in getting lost gave it all, and would again pint for pint inked the verses clever curses cut from stone none of the fates rehearsed this none of these cards had been known beyond the mind's own limits was a point of no return gave in expecting gimmicks was when I first felt the burn tables turned, I was in it lightning rained o'er the tower beyond the mind's own limits this is called the final hour long ago this threshold crossed past and present intertwined more than sense of self was lost went out of his fucking mind pint for pint the arc was shed darkly fed and overhauled the wages, they will be bled the final hour has been called beyond the mind's own limits was a point of no return gave in expecting gimmicks was when I first felt the burn tables turned, I was in it lightning rained o'er the tower beyond the mind's own limits this is called the final hour long ago this threshold crossed set the stage in volume one now the writer, he is lost knowing not what he's become (11/11/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

a tale as old as midnight (the story isn't over)

dreamers arrive at twilight wearing shadows of the day a tale as old as midnight refuses to fade away the story isn't over in ways it has just begun the weight must now be shouldered to carry what has been done like Sisyphus' boulder here begins another run the story isn't over in ways it has just begun and so they take the spotlight while the lambs are led astray a tale as old as midnight shows the slaughter's underway the story's never over though the chapter's reached its end there's crimson on the clover a portent one can't pretend means the temp won't get colder or that mercy won't suspend the story's never over though the chapter's reached its end the dreamers thrive at twilight leading shadows to the fray a tale as old as midnight bleeding over into day the story isn't complete though some parts of it have closed every saga has its beats and this is just one of those volumes will not be discreet scars continue to expose the story isn't complete though some parts of it have closed and now they take the spotlight curtain rises on the play a tale as old as midnight where old wounds can still betray the story's neverending for the page keeps it alive there's no sense in pretending all the pieces will survive the game's rules are rescinding from which meaning was derived the story's neverending for the page keeps it alive dreamers arrive at twilight wearing shadows of the day a tale as old as midnight refuses to fade away the story isn't over in ways it has just begun the weight must now be shouldered to carry what has been done (11/10/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

the crown was always heavy

he fell within the garden he came to test the throne that's how the mettle hardened how he wound up alone the crown was always heavy the head was always dark the ink was flowing steady he bore the poet's mark he knew he wasn't ready to practice it as art the crown was always heavy hell of a place to start he fell within the garden he came to test the throne how he secured his pardon was one of flesh and bone the crown was always heavy the head was never clear so his gait was unsteady the end so very near he knew he wasn't ready one of the things he feared the crown was always heavy was how he wound up here he fell within the garden he came to test the throne that's how the mettle hardened how he wound up alone the crown was always heavy the head was nearly lost the obstinate and petty were all but written off he knew he wasn't ready to face the final cost the crown was always heavy that weight would come across he fell within the garden he came to test the throne how he secured his pardon was one of flesh and bone the crown was always heavy the head was always dark the ink was flowing steady he bore the poet's mark (11/9/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

the gallows (look into the future)

look into the future looks just like the past see where they were sutured man, that happened fast standing on the gallows words of little use hard to face the shadows from the hangman's noose left upon the gallows see the lever pulled drifting through the shallows how the blood is pooled look into the future looks just like the past see where they were sutured man, that happened fast hanging from the gallows moving between time cast beneath the shadows always by design falling from the gallows vocal on abuse pen was never fallow hence the hangman's noose look into the future looks just like the past see where they were sutured man, that happened fast running from the gallows noose has fallen slack nothing but the shadows now remain intact pressed upon the gallows hangman in pursuit dashing through the shallows painted by the roots look into the future looks just like the past see where they were sutured man, that happened fast standing on the gallows words of little use hard to face the shadows from the hangman's noose (11/9/24)

[theperplexedpoet]

x-ray eyes

it's Pandora's box by way of Schrödinger hope is both alive and dead simultaneously so long as we don't look inside but my x-ray eyes have seen the truth they know the lie they've logged the proof I saw it died still in its youth my x-ray eyes have seen the truth hope was a just a dream we could never live up to not in this waking nightmare of an existence we would never see the way through to salvation but my x-ray eyes see through the night have seen the prize bathed in the light saw it denied by fight or flight my x-ray eyes see through the night it's Plato's cave and there's a midnight movie a world reflected in all its lacking no sense of dimension seen in the shadows but my x-ray eyes see through the rocks into the night just like the box all it implies its shapes and shocks my x-ray eyes see through the rocks my x-ray eyes the curse of sight the tears they cry what they incite I saw its pride tasted its plight my x-ray eyes the curse of sight (11/8/24)