j-colin
American
Poet and songsmith, each word given to me, by the one who guides me, she who gives me strength, and the will to survive / She who wields my fate, cast darkness if I fuck up, forgives if I apologize, and relinquishes a dreary day, turned bitter sadness, happiness and harmonious gladness
A poetic tear falls slowly in the morning
It comes and goes absolute,
bringing with it, no warning
A subtle thought surpassed by any dispute
However it may come to be
It seems to always take over,
to set me and my body free
From the flowing rivers and bubbling streams
and to the tallest of all the mighty oak trees
Normally comes from a poem
Or a thought that brings me grief
It could be a lovely painting
that brings me to a state bequeathed
My favorite is a song,
that harmony does me in
The melody dances over me
and crawls underneath my skin
Jun 28, 2011
Jun 28, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC
Dinner is Served
*Continuous hunger
unsatisfied
and faltered
Feed the weak
and eat them young
Makes a simplicity
of having to
house them
or to let them run*
Baby calf, born to be
brazen with a side of pilaf
Seared over open flame
tenderly exquisite
Make no matter
of an empty life
Just too satisfying
to a tempered pallet
To think of where and how
this dish came to be
Ending a wee
youngling's life
Served best with
a chilled blush zinfandel
or an aged red chianti
White and/or red
make up life of blood
and life in continuation
Apr 23, 2011
Apr 23, 2011 at 10:40 AM UTC
Blast off universally
Zero gravity working against you and me
Spinning uncertainty
Can't imagine a better way
to spend the day
Floating in a free fall
unraveling questions
big or small
Willing to spin the web
tore up
and set back down again
No chaos in order
Stronger than any ocean border
Set so perfectly
in a mist bitten canopy
hanging high over you and me
With no one to look after
and no one to care
could be as frozen as a wasteland
frost bitten
Shared a finish
looks deceive care
Apr 9, 2011
Apr 9, 2011 at 7:13 AM UTC
Sleep comes to those who wait
slumbers of nothings
and dreams of melodies
caress the inevitable fate
Expression laid like a place setting
table cloth pulled and dishes wobbling
waiting, leaning, and feigning
for an answer to start believing
But I wait, patient and still
Vermouth, spilled *****
and whiskey, tacky kills
Another sunrise
two more setting
surprise me in the morning
unrested and humming
A glass of water
filled with ice
balancing
next to a butter knife
Sliced smooth
intransigence
coupled delight
Mar 15, 2011
Mar 15, 2011 at 2:56 AM UTC
Don't try thinking about the habit
Try thinking about why you're living
the way you always think about
Trying to figure out
a responsible aptitude
something to carry through
Don't mind forgetting about
the multitude of habitual
Interchangeable vows
But underestimate the possibility
of an animosity,
a break out,
every one of us free'd
Recollect and never unaware
the way you're thinking about greed
the need and feeling to "suprasede"
"anti-ticipate" the paramour to longevity
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 1:13 PM UTC
To pull a song from scratch
to make it all fit and match
sure seems like a job to me
Sure I'm not making all the dough
but I am living a life that I always chose
Free of restrictions no matter the path
Its what I always wanted
so now hear my cash
Its a struggle always and forever
but if it wasn't would I ever sigh?
once for relief and the rest for grief?
Would I sigh?
Part of my job is to say it as it is
and to express just what I mean
by a deep vibrato when I sing
and a steady rhythm to which I play
This is my everyday
To write and to dream
to fathom and to steam
to dig past china
and be on the moon
try to find ideas for you
take them into your lives now out of the womb
for you to be the knife that breaks the bread
on your ever cloudy afternoon
Mar 1, 2011
Mar 1, 2011 at 9:49 AM UTC
Nothing on my mind
but a tired eye
heavier the slits close
tighter wanting to be shut
A yawn assumes my destiny
sleepless I sit
and loathe being awake
To dream, to conquer,
to be everything I make
A gleam of bursting
tangible light,
humming
The tune as if the bulb
were turned too tight
as my head bobs
up and down
Like the nods of the yes-men,
the beggars and their plows,
Acquitted with nonsense
foretold tomorrows vows
Feb 23, 2011
Feb 23, 2011 at 3:53 PM UTC
Fingertips bled four days
Vocal chords raw, tattered and ripped
Record collects dust, simply unplayed
Skin rolls through a lathe
reveals a new true color
pinkish, and a little bit softer
Feet broke, and terribly hurting
ankle spurs shard
Can't walk, can't talk
or play my cards play my cards again
Head numbed, complacently dumbed
for a second, spun
out of control, had to run
far far away
to an awful forgotten place
Spoke once, never again
Truer words don't come
to the meek
for they do not speak
unless forced
A struggle to shrug
no one gives them a hug
'Til all is well
heated from beneath
broth boiling in unison
formed once its poison
Next side is bubbling
stirred beyond its coined
phrased unison its poison
If depth makes
for those willing
try sitting try stirring
envy those and transparent osmosis
emit shades out of possible control
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 6:52 PM UTC
Ego is top priority
if it isn't for me
then its for the fakes
the one who blast their stereos
and fluff their noses
whiffin' on a whim
better learn how to swim
learn to catch their falls
in a continuous call
back home is where they run
because no life starts with fun
Mama screamin in agony
just to push you out
so you can deliver her joy
but is it for her, or is it for me?
I know it seems shallow
but your too blind to not see
The plastic thoughts
that make up my forehead
gathered and strung out
like a stream of city lights
sitting below as I look down on
all the ones who float around
seemingly lost in the world we took over
Its the human species who is the virus
the ones who hone in and take with out asking
Is this mine? money is the answer
if you got no dinero
then you got **** for answers
Everyone has **** too bad its not tender
yours is so bad it could knock out the lenders
but again, **** is not the answer
so you better save up
and buy all the world up
and drink it all from a shiny cup
and then throw it all up
and do it again and again
for we all are alcoholics
winning a race
against ourselves
in a sin of thought
its you who bought
that necklace
that pretty dress
that watch
that new phone
that mansion in the hills
that ugly ******* poodle
But what does it boil down to?
the classy environment
we are all accustomed to?
Try and wonder what is truly rich
for its heavier than gold cinder blocks
and large jewelry rocks
Its what you have deep in your mind
I have one, now you try to find
if you adjust the lifestyles
the lavish everydays
than maybe you can be rich
without working a single day
I really don't work
and I'm pretty happy
but give me diamonds
and then we'll see whose truly happy
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 6:42 PM UTC
A scribble to mimic what I feel thus far
the cold is alone; too struggle to stay warm
the vital strength to pulse further
my beating heart keeps me company
To signify strength, this murmur is faint
but to draw the line from the foreground
run rampant, simplicity is too quaint
for the lines of greatness are vitality to paint
In honor of each breath, quick and wheezy
admiring the gleam of the winter steam
relaxed, exhaled, not a dullness lay in me
but a carriage awaits beyond the frozen walls
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 9:43 AM UTC