J Klein 2d

below these temples of glass and rock
wax statues tarry in the streets
while nouveau riche and fancy flock
perch high upon their pixel seats
to watch the wax melt in the heat
watch the wax melt in the heat

J Klein Aug 7
I've started hearing again
And you speak
With words buried in
Steel vibrations
that pass through
My defenses  
Drowning out the
whirlwind echoes
-I've heard them enough-
And you pull me away
To a lighter place
Where thoughts mean less
And touch is the alphabet
I feel you there
A chill that spreads
From head to toe
A soothing song
Reminding me
I am loved
J Klein Jul 31
when i was younger
i dreamt of sailing
so i bought a boat

i've been adrift for years now and
sometimes i'm surprised by
how easily the wind has bent me and beaten me back

the amount of water i've swallowed trying to stay afloat almost choking
thirsting for something fresh
while sucking salt

the blisters the sun has
scorched on my skin
anticipating the wind
would cool me

exposing myself to the harsh reality of navigating uncharted waters
all because i dreamt of sailing
and I've set the course

but there's vast oceans yet to cross
and the more I drift
it seems the sea is really no different
than a dessert

and i am sailing
in sand
J Klein Jul 29
I don't fit
but i'm no better
These folks
wade in divine waters
man-made lakes
talented actors
with Smiling faces
play the game so well
love to
talk of righteousness
live to
catch the eye
shopping mall temples
holy and sanctified
arms outstretched
toward blinding stage light
fog machines
it's show time
pass the plate
read the book
look the look
talk the talk
walk the walk
if someone is watching
the readers,
the critics,
the opinionated
are like cicadas,
you don’t hear
from them for a
while but when
the time is right,
they swarm together
and bring the noise.

and lately,
I’ve been receiving
an outpouring of hate mail
from my fellow correspondents
with passionate responses
to my writing that have
enthralled me,

not so much that
I’m writing poorly
but what l’m writing
about infuriates them.

their tongues swirling around
like vultures
in their perfect mouths to
quickly judge my take on the
subject matters of woman,
my drinking and my negative
outlook on life and work.

loosely painting describing
words in my direction,
calling me
a misogynist,
a pessimist and
a diseased drunk...

a misogynist? how so?
I love women and
I’m happily married to one
but you’d have a better
understanding if you met
the sex-crazed, pill-popping,
drug-induced alcoholic women
I once shacked up with.
I only illustrate the unbelievable
reality of it all.

next, my drunken poetry...
whether its drinking or writing
or both, it all feels like a
children’s tabernacle choir
of glory, singing hymns and
lifted by a celestial symphony
when there’s absolutely
nothing to do...
I keep my barstool warm
and my beer cold

and finally,
the pessimism in my poems.
I don’t live this life with a
white picket fence around me
where everything is positive
and delicate and bright.
art has a balance,
poetry has a balance
and there are two sides
to everything and how
I perceive in this world
and what I create is a
bit darker and uglier
than most grey hearts
with grey laughter,
laughing at nothing
and I brisk for the smile.
I wake up hungover and
I work a terrible job and
I’ve been served the
poisons of the world
and for that, I only have
myself to blame, but
all the trouble makes
for good writing
so I continue
to keep my head down,
chew my food with my
mouth closed and shine
the shoes for the living
that walk among
this desperate land.

the judgments seem to be
ill-fitting to the persona but
I’m very fortunate to receive
this kind of mail because it
whispers in my lonely ear
that I made someone feel
something in my writing,
whether the outcome was
to inspire or offend.
I’m happy to know
that they felt it
because I felt it too
and the blackbirds
of success
swoop down
and gobble up
the inch worm
of self-doubt
and failure.
  Jul 28 J Klein
RJ Days
First, you have get to an email address
and then fashion a sculpture
out of daisies and moonbeams
as a wedding present for your love;
practice your poetry because
it will come in handy when tongue tied;
pentameter is a pocket ace
and the game is cutthroat so you’re
gonna wanna have some ready;
calisthenics are required
as is having the right politics
but dissimilar guacamole preferences
are usually alright for awhile;
be sure to develop a tolerance
for sand between your toes;
learn to frolic, but never skip;
don’t buy a boat because nobody
has time for a sweater cape enthusiast
and drowning is very unromantic;
Grow roses and cook eggs every way
you can but ever respect the bacon;
Practice looking longingly;
Toss your hair and brush your teeth;
darn your socks but carefully
maintain just enough flaws
to seem endearing and then
forget all this because the only
time you chose to fall is suicide
and it’s kind of like a bridge jump,
so it’s time to just lie back and enjoy
the dopamine rush while it lasts;
you’ve roped a unicorn,
the fleeting chemistry of
your synapses will thank
or blame you later.
J Klein Jul 28

Morning dew that feeds the grass
Tell me how long does it last
Seven hundred days have passed
And still the void remains so vast

Drops like tears run down the blades
And band together in cascades
Then journey deep beneath the shade
Where my dear brother has been laid

In memory of my big brother Travis
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