theperplexedpoet

[theperplexedpoet]

here endeth the final hour

the hour is close to final the poet is close to dead came from a place so primal somewhere deep inside my head now no such thing as limits the same could be said of masks all that I am I've penned it now there's nothing left to ask the hour is close to final the poet is close to through each verse a scream so primal it was all that I could do to hold them beyond limits and to bleed beyond the rage put all of my heart in it and I left it on the page was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore this piece marks the final hour the hour is close to final the poet is close to done the force itself was primal so I never would have won beyond the outer limits of the self and of the mind should not have ventured in it nor ever engaged its rhyme was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore this piece marks the final hour the hour is close to final the poet is close to dead came from a place so primal I acted on what it said and there I touched the limits that my life was lived beyond put all of my heart in it and so now all of its gone was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore this piece marks the final hour the hour is close to final the poet is close to lost the battle cry felt primal but it carried such a cost now no such thing as limits all the boundaries are crossed been empty for a minute so it's time now to sign off was never gonna make it I didn't have the power I thought I could delay it the crumbling of the tower though I have said it before all of those roots have flowered and so here forevermore here endeth the final hour (4/28/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

the poet's journey broke him (deep within midnight's mind)

am never leaving midnight it's here I fall behind the hero never fit right at least not in my mind I have gained zero insights proved too tricky to find having none of my own light ever be fit to shine am never leaving midnight it's here that I belong this hero never had fight just all but went along stepped from the warmth of daylight I knew then this was wrong now come to read the last rites for I was never strong the poet is judged broken his body, soul, and mind his verdict has been spoken and committed to rhyme am never leaving midnight 'tis here that I'm inclined to give the hero respite for it was not the kind of label that would incite a fitting state of mind the ending's for me to write that's how it was defined the poet is judged broken his body, soul, and mind his verdict has been spoken and committed to rhyme this shadow but a token as all are realigned the poet's journey broke him deep within midnight's mind am never leaving midnight it's here that I belong had crumbled there at twilight as everything went wrong the hero in the spotlight was not part of my song these echoes of the last rites won't carry me for long the poet is judged broken his body, soul, and mind his verdict has been spoken and committed to rhyme this shadow but a token as all are realigned the poet's journey broke him deep within midnight's mind am never leaving midnight it's here I fall behind the hero never fit right at least not in my mind (4/26/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

age of night (when the pawn first)

can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first found midnight he took sanctuary there it was where he learned to fight and where his soul was laid bare saw the battle on the board knowing that he was unfit and yet still he drew his sword and charged forward into it when the pawn first felt the blade carving chaos on his skin knew that he had been betrayed by the one cast from within prophets knowing the outcome placed a pen there in his hand the shadow reaching out from edges of the shadowland can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first felt the blood saw the light that it contained as such he unleashed a flood but it never hit the same in the battle on the board he would fight to no avail he would find no true reward and in that regard he failed can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first saw himself in the pools that he had formed swore that it was someone else as the prophets once had warned so he tried to look away as to not see what was done what he'd known right from the day that all of this had begun can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first knew the score did all he could to deny that it was anything more than the pen just telling lies in the battle on the board from which he saw no escape he would fall upon his sword as they called the final take can no longer gauge the light as I set this page in flight finding that they staged the plight here within the age of night when the pawn first found midnight he took sanctuary there he knew what it could incite believed nobody would care (4/25/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

memento mori

this too shall pass this too shall pass this too shall pass we have but a moment to shape and live our story life is but a portent a brief memento mori thought it might outlive me that words were meant to last so I penned them glibly knowing this too shall pass volumes they did give me and each shall turn to ash still the muses bid me knowing this too shall pass we have but a moment to shape and live our story life is but a portent a brief memento mori thought it could forgive me transgressions of the past so I penned them glibly knowing this too shall pass once believed it hid me this mirrored looking glass so I let it kid me and that too came to pass we have but a moment to shape and live our story life is but a portent a brief memento mori thought it might outlive me that words were meant to last so I penned them glibly knowing this too shall pass (4/24/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

a menagerie of masks

a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole he did everything they asked no matter the cost or toll he drank deeply from the cask to facilitate each role a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through thought that meant he'd make it back turns out now that isn't true seems there's no end to the act just more of the grim obscene shadows cast show each the cracks through which his truth can be seen a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole all that with which he was tasked he did with little control he drank deeply from the cask thinking it might fill these holes a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through there by virtue of attacks why they wear a crimson hue proof of each of the impacts scars he's taken from the scene shadows cast show each the cracks and he now knows what that means a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole thought everything in his grasp never once thought of the toll he drank deeply from the cask no compassion, no parole a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through thought he knew what all he lacked yet he never had a clue still he tried to get it back from within the grim obscene shadows cast show each the cracks through which this truth can be seen a menagerie of masks broken pieces of the whole he played each part that was cast with no thought of cost or toll he drank deeply from the cask to facilitate each role a menagerie of masks broken pieces of his soul shadows cast show each the cracks where the light can still get through thought that meant he'd make it back turns out now that isn't true (4/23/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

finish line (everything is set to fall)

I can see the finish line know what these storm clouds portend see the cuts of its design and I don't like where this ends recall each and every sign being displayed on approach these aren't things to which we're blind they're just subjects we don't broach I can see the finish line and it's why I'm vexed a bit not concerned with place or time but the mass grave next to it started with a fit and fine now the bottom lines are red all complacently resigned to take our place among the dead for as we climbed the tower passed the writing on the wall we missed that here in the hour everything is set to fall I can see the finish line know just where all of this leads watch the gluttons as they dine from troughs into which we bleed know how appetites inclined to always have their tastes met will ignore the costs defined by the demands that they've set for as we climbed the tower passed the writing on the wall we missed that here in the hour everything is set to fall for the games played by power and the hate that they install caused the vines and roots to sour which has compromised us all I can see the finish line know what these storm clouds portend see the cuts of its design and I don't like where this ends (4/22/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

in the shadow of the mountain

in the shadow of the mountain as I find my center there replenishing from the fountain for the pool has much to spare I surrender what I carry and I make a grateful plea knowing as I do it's barely but a drop within this sea in the shadow of the garden as I lay my burdens bare begging for a glimpse of pardon from the wounds which brought me there I rest as an empty vessel having given back my all facing that which I have wrestled that which led me to the fall I give it to you, Earth Mother all this energy I hold use it that you may recover from our avarice and cold in the shadow of the mountain find I'm feeling all the ways that we've polluted the fountain that humanity betrays the many gifts we've been given as I make my humble plea understanding what's been bidden is not only about me thank you for these gifts, Earth Mother for the cleansing light you give I shall use it to recover to remember how to live in the shadow of the garden where I rest my weary frame having watched as the world hardened know it bids I do the same I'm here to reject that notion to commune and realign a show of love and devotion for that which you have designed I give it to you, Earth Mother all this energy I hold on this path I have uncovered of which ancient tongues foretold in the shadow of the mountain with the garden casting too your light rushes through the fountain and the waters are renewed each are made whole in this visit both the pool and fool who dared it's the grace from she who gives it and it's always freely shared thank you for these gifts, Earth Mother for the cleansing light you give I shall use it to recover to remember how to live in the shadow of the mountain (4/19/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

last call

midnight had a flame shadow had a wall both have played this game both have come to fall writing has been claimed the fire takes it all I bare all the blame this is the last call penned for a salvation that would never come a mask of placation o'er what had begun songs of veneration carried on as one setting expectations getting nothing done penned for a salvation that was make-believe midnight set the station shadow couldn't leave all the machinations none of the prestige binary equation heart upon the sleeve midnight had a flame shadow had a wall both have played this game both have come to fall writing has been claimed the fire takes it all I bare all the blame this is the last call penned for a salvation that would never come a mask of placation hiding what was numb was an indication fairly troublesome felt the implications still I tried to run midnight had a flame shadow had a wall both have played this game both have come to fall writing has been claimed the fire takes it all I bare all the blame this is the last call penned for a salvation that was make-believe midnight set the station shadow couldn't leave (4/16/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

what will be left of midnight

on the edges of the light where the shadow cannot reach what will be left of midnight with no lessons left to teach when the balance hits just right and the fates call to impeach what will be left of midnight tell me please, I do beseech where once I cast a shadow I now see a broken verse was on this field of battle I was first touched by this curse and it shared a faded song of which I sang every note still I got some pieces wrong and they all were ones I wrote where once I cast a shadow I now see a broken man was on this field of battle that I was offered his hand we sang the words together of a long-forgotten land but it would have been better if we'd just stuck to the plan where the shadow cannot reach on the edges of the light with no lessons left to teach what will be left of midnight unsettled after the breach when he's faded far from sight tell me please, I do beseech what will be left of midnight where once I cast a shadow I now see a broken pawn was on this field of battle he went at his foes head on and we sang of the victor from a place of memory but was I his conscriptor or was I his inductee on the edges of the light where the shadow cannot reach what will be left of midnight with no lessons left to teach when the balance hits just right and the fates call to impeach what will be left of midnight tell me please, I do beseech where once I cast a shadow now I see a broken shell was on this field of battle that I have come to know well where we would sing together verses not meant to be heard believed it was forever and I hung on every word where the shadow cannot reach on the edges of the light with no lessons left to teach what will be left of midnight unsettled after the breach when he's faded far from sight tell me please, I do beseech what will be left of midnight (4/15/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

bit my tongue (won't be doing that again)

I bit my tongue, but that was then I won't be doing that again went rung by rung, to tower's end and found my voice within the pen the bite it stung, broke through my skin a mark was left, my bitter twin and on he clung, this grip of sin I won't be doing this again we're upside down, and inside out thinking we know what it's about don't make a sound, try not to shout moving beyond shadows of doubt to wear the crown, can garner clout but one will fall within the bout so take the ground, of which we tout thinking we knew what it's about we're inside out, and upside down thinking we're worthy of the crown but where there's doubt, it can be found Ophelia is set to drown the heart is stout, but hate surrounds the wounded soul where pain compounds the lot and lout, pray for the round thought we were worthy of the crown I bit my tongue, but that was then I won't be doing that again went rung by rung, to tower's end and found my voice within this pen the bite it stung, broke through the skin a mark was left, my bitter twin and on he clung, this grip of sin I won't be doing this again we'll run the race, 'til we return knowing that each death shall be earned have set the pace, have come to learn the shadow and the one he spurned no further trace of bridges burned beyond the ashes in the urn and so with grace, accept the terms knowing that each death will be earned we will return to run the race and neither shall deny his place once we discern what's mask, what's face like the bridges, we'll leave no trace embrace the burn, as we debase the crown jewels that we replaced each taking turns, while feigning grace for neither shall deny his place I bit my tongue, but that was then I won't be doing that again went rung by rung, to tower's end and found my voice within the pen the bite it stung, broke through my skin a mark was left, my bitter twin and on he clung, this grip of sin I won't be doing this again (4/15/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

we are the worst

there was a time when we had a certain code when most the world held us in high regard now we're always lying oh, and we're placing tariffs left and right acting like such a chode we can't go on pretending it's normal for someone something like this heel to lead we're all a part of the red, the white and blue and the truth, you know love has been outlawed we are the worst we act like children we are the ones drinking the haterade so let's start chillin' it's a choice we're making we've favored genocide we're screwed if we don't find a way to trust in peace we spent all the heart though never had much to share and we never did that shit for free we've always shown this it's written in the dead as such we all have blood upon our hands we are the worst we act like children we are the ones drinking the haterade we must stop killin' it's a choice we're making we're funding genocide we're screwed if we don't find a way to trust in peace

yes, we're down, not out and there seems no hope at all but if you just believe we might be at the fall well, well, hell, let's legalize though, for I won't face what we've done nor speak it with a sober tongue we are the worst we are the villains we aren't the heroes we once thought we played so let's be real then it's a choice we're making we favor genocide we're screwed if we don't find a way to trust in peace we are the worst we act like children we are the ones drinking the haterade so let's start chillin' it's a choice we're making we're turning a blind eye we're screwed if we don't find a way to trust in peace we are the worst we are the villains we are the ones who will now have to pay and we'll pay billions is our voice now breaking we can't take this in stride we're screwed if we don't find a way to trust in peace

(4/14/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

a fable for midnight

cards are on the table and the scars are weighing in system sits unstable evidence carved on my skin sold myself a fable that was scripted by my pen cards are on the table for midnight has come again took the wheel of fortune to a point of no return wasn't in proportion to my level of concern wands were five in number no resolution in sight rolling in like thunder under cover of midnight took the fool and followed right up to the ledge of fate heart's chords sounded hollow and could no longer relate six cups sitting empty where the memory did fade hope is stacked against me and the rhythm gets betrayed cards are on the table and the scars are weighing in system sits unstable evidence carved on my skin sold myself a fable that was scripted by my pen cards are on the table for midnight has come again took the wheel of fortune towards the pyres set to burn was but a distortion what I managed to discern seven swords of judgment in a state of Damocles turns out that it wasn't a card that was meant for me cards are on the table and the scars are weighing in system sits unstable evidence carved on my skin sold myself a fable that was scripted by my pen cards are on the table for midnight has come again took the fool and followed to the ledge he led the way knowing time was borrowed was a game that I could play pentacles come to eight and the vein will pay the fee here to accept the fate that was handed down to me cards are on the table and the scars are weighing in system sits unstable evidence carved on my skin sold myself a fable that was scripted by my pen cards are on the table for midnight has come again took the wheel of fortune to a point of no return wasn't in proportion to my level of concern (4/12/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

in the morning as I'm waking (give me)

in the morning as I'm waking to the promise of the turn both the day and I are breaking yet another lesson learned there is no hope in forsaking what was taken by the burn one last solemn undertaking fates are ready to be earned give me madness, give me midnight give me all of it and more fed the sadness, bled for insights and I watched as the ink poured verses kept the wounds from healing salting each based on the lore it's not what I should be feeling yet I'm tempted to explore give me madness, give me midnight give me all of it and run claimed by badness, aimed at twilight where I'd ink each confession verses kept the soul in darkness for its weight was burdensome once was judged completely heartless became stuck on that notion in the morning as I'm waking to the promise of the turn both the day and I are breaking yet another lesson learned there is no hope in forsaking what was taken by the burn one last solemn undertaking fates are ready to be earned give me madness, give me midnight give me all of it and see that I had bliss at my last rites as the ink was read to me verses kept the wounds from healing the opposite of my plea and its spin would set me reeling falling towards not to be in the morning as I'm waking to the promise of the turn both the day and I are breaking yet another lesson learned there is no hope in forsaking what was taken by the burn one last solemn undertaking fates are ready to be earned give me madness, give me midnight give me all of it and more fed the sadness, bled for insights and I watched as the ink poured (4/10/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

shadow's bible (tendencies suicidal)

self reflect upon the pages this is my soul's recital as my pen darkly engages tendencies suicidal for I'm stuck behind the cages praying for a revival with blood soaking through the pages of the shadow's cursed bible and I see the imperfections I waded through with my pen thought I could escape detection carved the ink into my skin tried to deal with it in sections won't make that mistake again tried to mask the imperfections still they found a way to win so I held the flame of vengeance but I did not understand that even with resilience it would always burn my hand pain is ever in attendance it's the modus of the brand always in the name of vengeance just the way that it was planned self reflected on the pages this is my soul's recital as my pen darkly engages tendencies suicidal for I'm stuck behind the cages praying for a revival with blood soaking through the pages of the shadow's cursed bible articulate imperfections and I leave them on the pulp each is an overcorrection taken in a single gulp a new vector of infection still awaiting the results immortalized imperfections breaking molds I didn't sculpt self reflection on the pages this is my soul's recital as my pen darkly engages tendencies suicidal for I'm stuck behind the cages praying for a revival with blood soaking through the pages of the shadow's cursed bible so I held the flame of vengeance but I didn't understand it would foster a dependence I could never countermand was only for interference as a sort of reprimand when the soul knows only vengeance blood won't wash free from the hand self reflect upon the pages this is my soul's recital as my pen darkly engages tendencies suicidal for I'm stuck behind the cages praying for a revival with blood soaking through the pages of the shadow's cursed bible and I see the imperfections I waded through with my pen thought I could escape detection carved the ink into my skin tried to deal with it in sections still they found a way to win tried to mask the imperfections won't make that mistake again (4/7/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

wishing well

time to tell have to ask wishing well sacred task toss it in make it count call the win and amount speak the spell built to last wishing well have to ask coin to call time and place give it all game and grace time to tell have to pass wishing well weighted task flip the coin all corrupt fate purloined eyes wide shut break the spell at long last wishing well have to pass coin to call time and place give it all game and grace one will fall one will face tempered wall wounds retraced time to tell have to crash wishing well hear it splash salt was laid at his feet debts unpaid bid retreat link the spell to the ash wishing well have to crash coin to call time and place give it all game and grace one will fall one will face what has stalled in this space time to tell have to ask wishing well does not mask pillar grows pure and right deal the blows out of spite speak the spell let it bask wishing well have to ask coin to call time and place give it all game and grace time to tell malnourished deep the well make a wish (4/6/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

Donald Trump (in the vein of Rasputin)

pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray, pray prey, prey, prey, prey, prey, prey, prey, prey prey, prey, prey, prey, prey, prey, prey, prey there lived a certain man, underneath Russia's hold he was big and dumb, on his skin an orange glow most people looked at him saw shitty and disdain but to Moscow's dict', saw a way to inflict pain he would sell you Bibles like a conman full of brimstone and hate's fire business fails in only the way Don can taking our empire

Do-Do-Donald Trump, puppet of the Russian clump he shat himself now he shits our bed Do-Do-Donald Trump, nothing but a Russian chump for this shame our democracy's dead

he flew to Russian lands to get himself a bride like a nesting doll, Putin climbed his way inside he occupies a state of pure buffoonery paid a sleeper's rate for POTUS lampoonery for the Poot he was the kind of dealer who could be artfully spun he knew he'd be a holy repealer progress all undone

Do-Do-Donald Trump, suckin' off of Russia's pump fucked it all right in front of our eyes Do-Do-Donald Trump, Russia-simpin' cluster dump he is how our democracy dies

But with his golfing, and Musking, and his hunger for power Being shown to more and more people The demands to do something about this outrageous man Become louder and louder...right? Maybe?

slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay, slay "This man's just gotta go," declared his enemies But the crazies raged, from their righteous bended knees no doubt this rat routine has bennies for the base for the techbro wizzes claiming the “master race” but the checks and balances we once had look upon us now in shame we ignore them for this orange dunce slab stand up or bear blame Do-Do-Donald Trump, puppet of the Russian clump he crashed it all, did it with a smile Do-Do-Donald Trump, nothing but a Russian chump was given inches and so he took miles Do-Do-Donald Trump, suckin' off of Russia's pump he will not quit until we are red Do-Do-Donald Trump, Russia-simpin' cluster dump make no mistake he wants us all dead

Oh, those Russians (4/5/25)

[theperplexedpoet]

Mister Rogers' neighborhood

where is Mister Rogers' neighborhood send me over to Sesame Street the outlook here it is not so good so hear me now, please, I do entreat we had a heart once and it bled for you its tempered beat fueled a nation now cruelty's in everything we do compassion has long left the station we had a heart once and it bled for you so long as you fit the chosen look we fought for so long to broaden its view we wrote it down so they burned the book where is Mister Rogers' neighborhood send me over to Sesame Street the outlook here it is not so good so hear me now, please, I do entreat we had a heart once and it bled for you but that was so very long ago it set a pace we'd never catch up to so we replaced it with an ego we had a heart once so we like to claim it shed the red, the white, and the blue now the only thing that it sheds is shame but all of it is still bled for you where is Mister Rogers' neighborhood send me over to Sesame Street where we learned to treat all people good behavior that you now view as weak we had a heart once and it bled so true its tempered beat, an inspiration promised equality and justice too we set it up as the foundation we had a heart once, but that heart it broke when we failed to rise to its promise we turned our back on it as it awoke our waters never were the calmest where is Mister Rogers' neighborhood send me over to Sesame Street both were gentrified for their own good and sold for parts to fund the elite we had a heart once so we like to claim it shed the red, the white, and the blue now the only thing that it sheds is shame but all of it is still bled for you (4/2/25)