I told myself I liked peace
but the chaos is exhilarating.
I run from problems to let the animosity build.
I keep quiet to infuriate.
I plant myself in equations where my presence isn’t wanted.
Anger fuels the quiet
Words drench the flames

i
am not a good person.
they say
i
am as sweet as the candy
i
give to their children; they say
i
am the angel that collects new wings
every time
i
smile, because you can hear it ring.
but
there are worlds behind these eyes
that they have never seen,
and you might think that beautiful
but darling, trust me when
i
say that it is not;
and
i
have never worn a sugar-coated halo
or looked in the mirror
and smiled because
i
like who
i
am.
i
am not a good person,
i
simply do good things for
wrong reasons.
i
write long birthday cards because
i
don’t want to be forgotten,
and
i
smile at strangers because
i
want to be noticed.
i
love giving gifts, but
when it comes to receiving
i
turn them into weapons if
i
have the courage to accept them
in the first place.
i
eat the things
i
am allergic to because it’s another way
to hurt myself, and
i
have skipped the food
i
should be eating because
that’s another way, too.
i
claim that
i
am strong, but
i
listen to loud music because
i
can’t stand it when my family fights,
and
i
only plant flowers
to have something to care for.
“i”
is written in a line all its own
because
i
have never thought that
i
needed anyone, or that
anyone needed me;
and
i
don’t use capitals because
i
don’t believe
i
am worthy.
it makes this poem
scattered
and muddled
and tiresome to finish.
it makes this story
disjointed
and broken
and difficult to read.
but then again
how fitting, because
so
am
i

Gold doesn’t elbow it’s way onto your front door
It doesn’t scream it’s own name in throbbing lights
at night in city squares
It doesn’t drip down television screens pleading for recognition
No, gold waits
Gold sits with his head held high
But his body down in mud
He finds a bed at sea just as comfortable
there, in the dark deep
as he does old, forgotten heaps
of pillaged treasures
or the velvet pillows that support his form
contorted around bright gems and pearls
in palace throne rooms
He knows nothing and no one can take away his identity
even on the off chance they didn’t recognize him
He’s elemental
and you love him for his service
He lives to serve
For in service he is glorified

My mom once asked me what was I looking for.
Like a librarian on her best days with a book worm ready to be dug out.
A question I’ve asked myself endless times.
Though I couldn’t answer, she understood.
I am missing nothing
Neglected of nothing
But I kept searching for more in the form of lust.
Putting myself through an endless cycle and wondering why I kept cushioning  the ground.
Why must we seek pleasure to feel whole?
You lack nothing physical nor dimensional.
I can’t answer because I’m still writing my personal bible with empty verses.
I’m still learning how to communicate my souls language
I’m still learning how to listen to the strength of my hearts voice
And I’m still learning how to increase the volume on my brains soft whisper
Ask me again tomorrow....

A woman
                  will be
                  as girly as
            you pamper her,
            as intelligent as
          you challenge her,
            and as sensual as
              you entice her,
                so touch her
                    without
            using your hands.
                     Taste
          her mind and you
                      might
           realize that you've
                been starving
                                                        ­                         Jon York  2010

To some I was a blessing, to some I was a lesson.
I’ve dealt with my past traumas and manifested myself to the person I’ve wanted to be.
I’ve faltered and stumbled along my journey
But, this isn’t just for me.
This is a verse for Us.
The confused.
The misunderstood.
The hopeless lover.
The nay sayers and The not so fortunate.
Break boundaries with your grace.
**** rocks and put bricks in the hospital.
Protect the inevitable and pray for the hostile.
The less never fails and the more never rejoices.

I saw the way your expression would change when I would talk about a ****** act I’ve committed.

You wanted me pure
You wanted me whole

Hearing the ring in my ears when you’d speak of how many girls souls you’ve laid to rest.

How they were propped up and popped open.

I was next,
But something told me not to be another victim.

How he cut them open and dug them out like cantaloupes.

He dug into genesis and didn’t know he killed creation with every lick.

He committed genocide with no remorse
And wiped it off as satisfaction.