daniel-c-jones - Hello Poetry

This is a man, without change. This is a man, alone. No convictions to sour his soul. This is a man, who sees the tide. This is a man, Who is outlaw, brigand and savior. He walks a path, no dusty trail. He makes a call, just to gamble. This is a man, with no hope This is a man, amoral. No God, No Glory, just alone.

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Mar 6, 2012

Mar 6, 2012 at 2:01 AM UTC

daniel-c-jones

A man

This is a man, without change. This is a man, alone. No convictions to sour his soul. This is a man, who sees the tide. This is a man, Who is outlaw, brigand and savior. He walks a path, no dusty trail. He makes a call, just to gamble. This is a man, with no hope This is a man, amoral. No God, No Glory, just alone.

21

My solitude comforts Doubt, like a lover's lie. His fickled fingered Digits chokes my heart. Second guessings elevated to thirds, fifths, and sevenths. Crippling and seducing what ego and self reliance I have, away. My solitude that comforts Doubt. Betrays me. I have no solemnness nor reassurance. I can not banish Him I never welcome Him But yet He stays.

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Feb 24, 2012

Feb 24, 2012 at 4:18 AM UTC

daniel-c-jones

Solitude

My solitude comforts Doubt, like a lover's lie. His fickled fingered Digits chokes my heart. Second guessings elevated to thirds, fifths, and sevenths. Crippling and seducing what ego and self reliance I have, away. My solitude that comforts Doubt. Betrays me. I have no solemnness nor reassurance. I can not banish Him I never welcome Him But yet He stays.

16

Gay little poem book sitting on the shelf no one has a one pence to give you a new home Gay little poem book big enough to Pocket Your true love shall steal you soon Gay little poem book Long forgotten tell us all your secrets that you hold.

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Mar 12, 2010

Mar 12, 2010 at 8:25 PM UTC

daniel-c-jones

Gay little Poem book

Gay little poem book sitting on the shelf no one has a one pence to give you a new home Gay little poem book big enough to Pocket Your true love shall steal you soon Gay little poem book Long forgotten tell us all your secrets that you hold.

12

The only thing I really want Ito earn my place upon my throne. I don't want my dream just tossed to me like a platter full of roasted duck. My throne's construction of Burgundy satin, and golden throngs, call out its splendor to all that witness. I shall and must refuse my throne until I can see I wont heed any call it sends to me. I can only cherish the things that will prove what mine IS mine. And that is my throne.

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Mar 9, 2010

Mar 9, 2010 at 8:39 PM UTC

daniel-c-jones

My Throne

The only thing I really want Ito earn my place upon my throne. I don't want my dream just tossed to me like a platter full of roasted duck. My throne's construction of Burgundy satin, and golden throngs, call out its splendor to all that witness. I shall and must refuse my throne until I can see I wont heed any call it sends to me. I can only cherish the things that will prove what mine IS mine. And that is my throne.

22

I observe the ancient wonder An old music box, Whose shell is enclosed in aged mahogany. The innards contain dissimilar gears and cogs ***** by rust laid out by Father Time, In his endless cycle. The scarred ballerina Her painted flesh corroding to a dust. I witness the aging ballerina In her endless German Waltz. Yet the music, still pure, As if the music fixes this artifact As if it was her.

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Feb 13, 2010

Feb 13, 2010 at 3:27 PM UTC

daniel-c-jones

The Music Box

I observe the ancient wonder An old music box, Whose shell is enclosed in aged mahogany. The innards contain dissimilar gears and cogs ***** by rust laid out by Father Time, In his endless cycle. The scarred ballerina Her painted flesh corroding to a dust. I witness the aging ballerina In her endless German Waltz. Yet the music, still pure, As if the music fixes this artifact As if it was her.

13