I have betrayed myself there is no fault but my own the captain cannot blame the crew the boat mustn’t blame the sea there is a place without distraction but finding it is near impossible and it will take all that you have to enter through the gates some try to sneak through a window or watch the goings on from outside through the glass but in that place there is little time for those outside peering through the window means to die in the stillness of the cold I studied the wise they all said the same thing the light is in the renunciation stop carrying that sad sack the mountain allows for no extravagance the truth is light but every excuse from and explanation of is heavy Just be Just do but do not forget how much you must do every aching second You must do
midwest sunrise lost dog wont sing no sonnet, not today frost on rooftop car glass window broke in corner brakes squeak struggle to stop and then you just stop heart goes out like light no more moth soul lingering
Thinking About the Funeral by johnfinch, literature
Literature
Thinking About the Funeral
for a writer I sure don't write much the cats meow more than I pen the pad glass bell three times chime the sun comes somber still tho keeps continuing warm your back like a lost hand somewhere in a memory
I cannot write of
anything but what I know
fat finches
and the melting snow
in somber midwest
spring churring over
train sounds
nothing but the word
coupled with the way
each paired every day
trying best
for consistency
in studying
meditation
prayer
searching
for the light
inlet to glimpse
at least
a flit
of
enlightenment ...
the poems are shorter
these days
the blood less boiled
the liquor less heady
the power and fountain
of youth
tempered by
meditation
I gave up
those old ghosts
cried and called
nostalgia
then I
forgave everyone
even if
they couldn't
forgive me
I’ve dealt in drugs and dishonesty,
arguments and poetry,
litany and blasphemy,
brotherhood and infamy,
ghosts an’ crip’ling anxiety,
depression and dream eulogy,
the barren land and forgiving sea,
stray dog freedom and love’s slavery
broken homes, hollow bones,
always answering-machine telephones,
junk sick beauties with sunken bellies,
looped movie menus on static tellies,
skinny spirits in plastic dresses,
absolute absence and golden tresses,
everything else in red and black,
the sun on skin on the walk back
moving forward, no map in mind,
boozy bums lose track of time,
I sat at station longer than I should,
all t
if you can't leave 'em with a laugh you can leave 'em sawed in half I'm hoisting the white flag and hanging it half-mast see I've got past experience I know the shape of a casket keep the question on your tongue it doesn't mean you didn't ask it I'm composed of screeching static a vaguely man-shaped panic underneath all the anxiety the depression's feeling manic like whoa there partner wait your turn we've got another bridge to burn and contents of a leaky gut to empty up here in the churn forty years all haunted by the specters of the spectrum unsure which monsters mean him harm and which want to protect him either way he's gobbled up a hollow bag of bones to crunch here lies the living memory of a life completely motherfucked spent a decade seeking comfort in the powders and the potions and hands that turned to sand gone sifted when he tried to hold em now he's shifted or replaced all of the idols on his totem but no bell's ever been unrung sometimes broken
all ineffably precious by YouInventedMe, literature
Literature
all ineffably precious
I want to know you when we are old still wrapped in your blanket of stars lost in the light of you . I'd like to teach myself new words invent them like you invented me but I stutter everything blue and paint these silent portraits endlessly and I can not imagine my heart without my heart can not stop the dream of you love you are so far beyond my blood you are still the brightest thing I've ever seen
so i find softness in sunbeams making shows of vapors like she casts a light on the swirl and finds stratification i forget that i am drowning come to believe the craters in my chest were dug there by myself not stolen like they were stolen . and it would be a stranger thing if love felt safe after everything
i take his salt into my fold
wish for the tempest
to yield its gifts
waiting
for the gables
once so full with lessons
to spit their reapings
onto the streets
and
i wonder
when time
will stop grinding my nose
into the soiled things
when the ground
will push up blossoms
singing:
the ache
will drink itself
away
My lover tells me: no
no, no
sweet love
not him
he doesn’t know your
favorite shoes or
the food
you raid the fridge for
when you’re finally home
again
sweet love
he cannot tell you
why it’s A-
sharp minor
that holds fistfuls
of your heartstrings
or
how many dimples
grace your face
when the smile is a
lie
he doesn’t know
that stretch of skin
low on your arm
that makes you catch your breath
or how to stroke
your hair at midnight
when bitter dreams
call colder tears
and love
he won’t ever know
just how to hold you
when the stardust in your veins
is bursting
and you cannot find relief
in chemical or pheromone
an
Hello everyone,
I hope you are all well.
It has been a while since I have posted any sort of journal entry. Years.
It is kind of fitting one of the last journal entries was announcing a new book, as this one is doing the same.
The third volume of my poetry is now available for purchase on Amazon.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/0991238826
Thank you for reading my work all these years.
-John
Thanks for joining BreaktThroughArt! We're very happy to have someone as talented as you be part of the team. Thank you again for joining and we sincerely hope you enjoy being part of BreakThroughArt!