Category Archives: Poems

Lady Liberty’s favorite child (a poem by Jack)

Symbols of tragedy..

I mourn the victims… myself included…

Banks…Department stores… Fast food…

Reminders of my social degradation…

The people live on borrowed land they could never truly own… Can never plant your seed to take root and grow stout, to replenish generation after generation…

Mr. Roboto

Mother do you mind putting your love and energy into nourishment derived from our mother’s crust…

Too much to ask… Perhaps not even feasible…

Is there land for me and my brothers to protect… Or am I resigned to lay down my life for the special interest of others…

Lights… Camera… Action..

Am I as ugly as they say I am… Am I truly that inadequate… Image is everything… No?

Magazines…. Commercials.. Marketing… Psychological abuse… Quasi-predictive programming..

If you know me so well… Then you know what will eventually come.. When I’m fed up…

When I stray off course from this rat race…

Will I be painted as the bad guy… And punished for my curiosity…

Or will the rat eventually kill the cat… All us rats… Hungered.. Raging… Embolden with one goal… Vanquishing any and all cats…

But perhaps the rat race is more alluring than the chaos.. Certainly much less casualties…

Say cheese!

Paint a picture…. An image of freedom… Subtract the symbols… What do you have… Do you have a man.. Do you have a collection of choices… Do you see yourself? Can a system bear freedom, or is adhering to a system freedom in itself… Freedom of responsibility and worry…

The smiling clown cries…


Long live liberty….

Live and Let Live (a poem by Jack)

I don’t know what rules you live by..

Those weaknesses don’t govern my life..

I’ve considered your innocence… 

But you’ve betrayed your innocence…You’ve allowed your innocence to die.. So what is your life really worth..

You’re just a soul in search.. 

Of what? 

A longing you’ll never find on this earth…


Numb your misery… Numb it baby..


I still believe in you… But you are a lost soul… Sent to this earth on a wild goose hunt… The innocence in others disturbs you… You look for love but will never find anything beyond infatuation..

You are cursed..

In me you found the beauty of innocence to latch upon… To fall in love with… But my innocence is tainted… And it isn’t even mine… It’s the discarded innocence of the many misguided souls… From the many lifetimes I’ve explored..

Innocence that’s been abandoned and left for death…

All this trash and you managed to find your treasure…

I thought about killing you for betraying my trust, as you have betrayed so many others…

You think your rules and rationale will save you… But your weakness don’t govern my actions…

And your soul is full of guilt and justified retribution… 

I am the cleansing you so longed for…

In me you will find redemption… In me your soul will be renewed…

A baptism by sacrifice… A superficial martyrdom– not to save the souls of many but to rebirth the spirit of one…

Inhale deeply… Macabre effervescence… Allow the breath of innocence to breathe life back into that which has died… 

Let me resurrect you from your own self-inflicted mortality…


Have you ever really lived?

Stone cold love (a poem by Jack)

Everything I ever loved turns to stone…

They say if you let it go and it comes back to you… That’s true love..

But every thing I let go, sinks to the bottom of an endless ocean…

I have no gills… So it’s gone forever..

Forever sinking.. Forever lost.. Forever losing…

I left my body to pursue other world’s… Obtained other bodies to feel other touches…

To know new energies… Express my self in a paradigm this world doesn’t understand and will never allow..

I enjoyed these experiences… I enjoyed those miracles… But I always think back to you…

I always allow those unfulfilled regrets to taunt my spirit.. Taint the sunshine of my soul… 

A stormy cloud with no silver lining…

Yes, the rising of a new sun is so lovely…

But there is no soul like your soul… And no stone like our stone…

It has sunk, and will forever sink…and is forever sinking…

These storm clouds pour on my heart… Only adding to the depths of my ocean…

Every stone I’ve sought to gather lines an ocean floor– somewhere…

Mermaids… Dolphins… Crabs… Experience the lost love of many… 

Sunken treasures never to be realized.. 

A falling stone…long lost in a sea of apathy…

Lifemares– the Watchers (a poem by Jack)

I have an acute paranoia..

The wind echoes privy… And voices reflect lies…

I have a hard time seeing the people I deal with…. As.. People..

Just motives… Attempts to knock me off my pivot… 

The wind shows much more mercy than the motives of men…

So much peace could be had… Shared…

So much solace… Yet we fear even our thoughts… Because they too taint our souls…

Who’s thoughts are these that cascade from the terrain of my mind…

More lies.. Designed to knock me off my pivot…

I have acute paranoia..

The obtuse is all around… The inane is abundant…

How do you continue to pray to a god that has forsaken you? Who’s god are you praying to that it has lifted your enemies on a pedestal and has afflicted you with so much misery…

Perhaps you lack enough paranoia to even save yourself..

I’ve rested my head on the bosom of demons… Allowed the words of their tongue to caress my thoughts..

I was lonely… It felt good… 

But solace and loneliness can be mutually exclusive..

Being honest with yourself can only free you from the darkness…

Unsavory motives preying on unsuspecting minds… Exploiting unfortunate circumstances… Leading to a series of begrudging actions.. Destructive events…

I pray for the afflicted…

But to what avail…

My prayers echo from the mountain tops… Bouncing off of deaf ears.. Creating an avalanche of unfulfilled hopes… Empty expectations…

To whom must the bell toll but for me…

Those watching.. Those receiving my words… Aren’t those bending to my Will but acting in their own..

I have an acute paranoia …

And rightfully so…..



Dia de Los Muertos (a poem by Jack)

I was born to die…

I skate… Backwards.. Moon walking across auxiliary planets’ surfaces..

Born dead.. And if I continue to die before I wake.. My soul shall remained condemned.. A slave to both time and space…

I have neither the time nor space to reconcile this dissonance…

I pump my brain til it starts to feel good… Numb my thoughts until I can’t feel my thinking…

Thoughts without feelings…. A sweet poisonous nectar…

Action without thought…. An addiction… An affliction…

I’m a robotic Hemingway…

A slumber,I reside…

Not quite awake.. Not unresponsively dead… Still congregating with the zombies… Whispering into the shadows…

You know the walking dead…

Wiping crust out my eye….

Skulls and bones animate– dancing in rthymic patterns under the Suns gaze… They worship the Sun and it only seeks to burn… They burn there decrepit flesh.. Yet they remain loyal…

I’m growing bored with competing with necro lovers….

Survival of the deadest…

Necrophilia–because our souls have made union with minds that refuse to think, and bodies that insist on dying…

Everyday I wake up dying…

And every night I seek resurrection…

Til death do us part…

Until eternity brings us back together again…

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Medusa’s Gaze (a poem by Jack)

Medusa’s gaze.. Only procrastinates longing… A gaze so strong and deep… My stone cold soul reflects back at her…

And her shallow superficial whence falls on def ears… She sees what it’s like to be black hearted.. And she becomes victim of her own undulated circumstance… Nothing’s left of her aminated exterior but jagged stone..

Alas we can relate… My soul is but a reflection or her appearance…

I alone must indure this journey… My conscience is but a stone throws away… But i never bother to use it…

It always gets in the way and makes things complicated…

I’d much rather live by the rock of my salvation.. Operate in the way of the cold hard stone…

That way nothin is ever personal.. It’s all business… Business for business sake…

And if I hurt or maim you… It isn’t because I dislike you.. It’s only because I like me more…

And the anticipation of my own suffering is enough for me to be proactive… For me to draw from your flesh the stress that would have been bestowed upon me…

Medusa’s gaze says it all… It penetrates all that doesn’t matter… Alleviating all consciousness and leaving you with the real…

A stone cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch…

All that remains is a callous nature… Set on doing callous things… Without any compassion… Without love…

I become a child of Medusa… Yet merely another stone to add to her vast collection…

The Iron Veil… (A poem by Jack)

In retrospect…

I suppose the hate isn’t all so bad when the adjoining love is authentic…

The despair is merely an aftermath… A combustion of emotion without an appropriate outlet…

It just mutates into whatever symbioce that’s fulfills its needs..

I’m left to not only take on the sins of my father.. But cursed to take on the sins of another…

Cold only feels good when it’s all you know… It’s the comfort within the normalcy that I’ve grown attached to…

To be so near another but far away is torture indeed…

I’d rather be isolated in hell than made to believe a false hope in purgatory…

We fear solitude… Mainly because we fear our thoughts… We fear the truth of ourselves…

But I stare in the mirror every day…

I see the light… I acknowledge the darkness… And serve em both their just due…

I constantly seek to reconcile the tension..

A cognitive dissonance not only between myself… But between the love and bond I share with another…

Through a third scope… I seek to become one with her… But schism is far too great…

The dissonance is daunting…

An iron sheik… With an iron will..With an iron curtain… Dividing too spirits seeking to be one soul…

Black Pearl (a poem by Jack)

She retracts like the tide..

Like the oyster, when she opens she reveals the most precious parts of herself…

Part quiet… Part coy.. Part perturbed.. Creating a concoction of a closed off shadow..

Attempting to go unnoticed… She keeps her hidden colors within the dark…

But it’s only temporary.. It’s always temporary.. But can you ensure the wave.. The intensity.. The empty backlash… Can you be sure that it isn’t filled with hatred… But filled with fear…

I’m scared… How do I deal with this new found emotion.. How am I to be entrusted with this pearl that you have bestowed upon me…

You respect my fear…. And I believe you..

She sits quietly… Undisturbed because I won’t touch her..

I patiently wait for the tide of her anguish to retract.. And the wave of her emotion to come crashing back in..

She smiles…

Revealing the tide is finally subsiding..

She looks into my eyes… I return the gaze… She turns away.. All but hiding her honesty..

Another pearl left for a guardian spirit..

Am I a worthy partaker of this pure innocence…

Her fears of my failing nutriment coincide with my fear of its fragility…

But with each crash the of waves… Comes a bond unique… And the waters will help nourish…

And I thank her for her waters….

Thank God for the waters….

Moon balance (a poem by Jack)

I can’t recall if I came from a time before or after…

It all becomes a blurr, eventually…

No prophecy ever becomes 100% fulfilled… I’ma a testament of that…

The periphery it outlines is always intact but the details always vary…

Mis and match…

Perched on the moon… I become that thing… That unintended consequence..

But I embrace it… And move on…

There is no satisfaction guaranteed with this life…. So despite it all… I just keep pushin… And enjoy every moment for what it has to offer…

Storing memories like baseball cards… Letting their value increase with age…

A thing from the moon…. Beaming down only when darkness pervades….

Quite the concept… I’m only visible when darkness inundates… It’s coo, because I’m appreciated all the more…

Moon lit sacrifices… Full moon rituals… Innocence scorned…

Many times I sit back and watch all the hysteria done in my name…

I’m flattered… But I’m a man just as you… And no matter how much credit you give me… Only you can absolve your sins…

One way or another you’ll eventually learn..

For the words have already crystallized to form the future.. The details are left for you to fill in… Go live your life… Feel free to be you… No matter the consequence…

Once you truly learn who you are… Then maybe we can do business…

Until then Neverland will be your home…

Enjoy the your stay..

I’ll visit every now and then… And in the most darkness, evidence of me is everywhere…

Just think and be…

Let your flame increase my bright …

Together we can illuminate and unite…

As you learn yourself, you will know me…

Life’s a Jungle… I’m but a fallen king.. (a poem by Jack)

IMG_4484In another life time I carried a big stick.. Symbolized my power..

Performed wonders!

In yet another time… My gorgeous mane flowed… Blondness reciprocating the sun’s glory…And my surrounding Pride guaranteed my dominance… expounding upon my excellence with every purr of their breath….

Each purr eloquently defining hegemony…

Across the golden terrain… A vast kingdom to rule… A great balance to be had…

Moving together as one… I as their symbol of excellence… They as the brains of the machine… I knew I could be replaced… But as long my righteousness reverberated I knew I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon…

Down wind… Exposes potential prey…

Savagery and brutality were the only means to maintain the status quo…

But that was a time before…

This concrete jungle is of little difference…

The unity isn’t there.. But the savagery is all the same… I’ve seen great pride tear through the souls of men..

Dragon’s breath no longer sparkles…

Lions den’s are all but vacant…

Sins grow exponentially…

And the lions are reduced to common alley cat thugs…

Feral .. Moody beings… Stragglers with little hope… And no destination… Bouncing from back alley to back alley… Living to survive…

No pride… Which creates an absence of pride.. Every man for himself… No pride… Every woman is fair game..

No families… Just babies… And mothers of babies… Adding to the stray cat population…

Get your cats spade and dogs nudered… While the Price is Right…

While their lives have worth… Young kittens shed innocence as well as self worth at an early age..

The reconstructed jungle unfolds.. And the game explains itself..

No longer seeking excellence but settling for the constraints of an abrasive social constraint…

Confined within a box..we have no room to grow… No vision to blossom.. We have no lions to see and have no vision of what to be… We’ve never heard the bellow of righteousness trumpet from the lungs of a Jungles King…

We’re left with shameful lullabies….

All the cries… Moans… And meows of repression are far too familiar.. A familiar melody that we all sing along to…

A lion’ weep is worth the wrath of billion strays…

And too much Pride has kept the lion bottled up inside…

Without a tear… To shed…

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