Der Wilden Gedichte

My yesterdays are stuck

Amidst a flurry of inactivity

Born of lethargy and

Endless cups of hot coffee

In my particular brand of melancholia

You may find a subtle dystopia

As you journey through my phobia

The one about being left alone

And in my dreams

I see a falcon

Soaring in the sky

Unshackled

And I realize

I want to be one too

But in moments of sobriety

This falcon gets buried

In a tidal wave of mediocrity and differential equations

But it always comes back

Like Hamlet’s father

Prodding me on

Where I do not know

Maybe one day

This wild poem I have concocted

Will end up taming itself

But for now, I am comfortable

In its wildness

For inside me there is a bit of that

Begging to come out

The Bilge Master