the morning

my breath reeks

the coffee is being consumed

the day started inside of my head when i first opened my boogery eyes

this environment is different

a chance for a better represented now, alone

in the name of progression
I once compared myself to a flower,
But flowers seems to wither apart.
They cannot withstand the cold,
Nor can they endure a dark heart.

Flowers exhibit fragility like nothing else,
And that is how I viewed myself.
Looking back on my life, now,
I see the sins I have kept on a shelf.

I see the things I have hidden from the world,
The traits that sleep deep inside of me.
Attributes of which I should be ashamed,
Truths I will never set free.

The monster which taunted me,
It has left a blatant mark.
Pulling me so close,
And placing its hand upon my heart.

I fear that is what I have become,
Not a flower, nor a part of nature at all.
The changes that I have made,
They have led me to my downfall.
What is there to say?
 Jun 22 John-Chris Ward
Meg
I am alive by luck at this point.
I wonder if the gun that will eventually take me has been made.
Whose trigger will bury me.
How many bullets, like a flock of sparrows, will come carry my life to its final bed.
Today, I am alive but there is no law to thank.
If not me, then someone else.
Born into a game of chance we never asked for. Traded diplomas for obituaries. Traded graduation speeches for eulogies. Traded futures for an early grave. Forced to cash in their chips. We don’t want to play anymore.
And this too is eulogy. And this too is prayer. And this too can resurrect the coffin wood back to a tree. Can sing back alive whatever parts of you died with them. Whatever leapt in your throat at yet another headline.
Mourning until you, too, are a thing to mourn.
But we will no longer be martyrs.
We are the rude awakening to politicians who pawned out our safety, who bartered our lives for bribes.
You say “gun reform is not the answer” but all I can see is a bullet rattling like a pinball in an innocent student’s jaw.
You smell like gun smoke and
I can see the AR15 you're holding behind your back and
I guess it's easy to ***** jokes about dodging bullets when you're the one firing them.
Give teachers books not bullets:
Kafka isn’t kevlar.
Bronte isn’t bulletproof.
And how sick is it that we must add school shootings to your list of proud american traditions.
Throwing opinions like punches.
How many more have to die before you decide your ego isn’t as important as you think it is?
And I, too, am buried alive
My soggy grave parting its greedy lips.
To you, my bones, when ground into gunpowder and mixed into water, taste like champagne.
My pulse, as thin as an obituary panting beneath sweaty palms, and sure
We are “just kids,”
But you are forgetting we are the next generation
And you autopsy your fists.
Call it reclamatory.
Lately, when asked “how are you?” I respond with a name no longer living.
And who knows if mine will be next
Performed this yesterday in my first poetry slam and won second place :)
When she falls into sleep
Beside me every night,
I'm often haunted by
All the promises I made decades ago.

So easy to make when
Dark feelings were out of sight.
Since then I’ve broken
The locks on almost every door.

In newlywed bliss she was
Sleeping next to me one night.

Still in that distant land
She suddenly sat-up
On the edge of the bed
With her back facing me,  
Looking into the dark closet
Next to her side of the bed.
She called out my name several times.  

Already awake, I answered,
"What’s wrong?"

With back still turned,  
She answered,
"I’m not talking to you,
I’m talking to the other Danny."

A darkened closet is where
My darker-half was first revealed.
My love and I were newlyweds,
But in one year was the uniting of the pair.

Through all these years,
She has sensed with empathy
My loss of peace and spirit
And to at least try
To fill-up the deep,

Dark empty spaces
That are in
The many chambers
Of my damaged heart and soul.
Only this depth of Love can,
In its ineffable heat, melt
Away all traces of impurity,
If you let it.
I have learned to let it.


--Daniel Irwin Tucker
Sit the harshest truths outside
Of the door no matter how well
You are in life more will always
Be expected of your existence
Dreams turning into a reality
That we will all hopefully live
Through tranquility the ultimate
Therapy paranoia a recipe for
A disaster of epic proportions
Growth in repeated cycles
Uncertainty to keep us on our toes..
It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.
 Jun 22 John-Chris Ward
miki
you told me to show you where i hurt.
but you were wearing a blindfold.
and my hands were tied behind my back.

you told me to tell you how i feel.
but you had plugged your ears.
and i was choking on my own spit.
 Jun 22 John-Chris Ward
DAF
Tell me what you make of this

Silent though you used to tell me that you loved me for the sake of it

Razor lips that cut me every time we kissed

Smile that would ruin all my days

But I'm okay with it
He writes poetry
But no one one knows

He writes poetry
He writes about love
And loss

He writes about smiles
And frowns

He writes about sorrow
And forgotten towns

He writes about how lost he gets
Caught up in his own mind

He writes poetry to
And about others

But no one knows

Know one knows the depth of his soul
Because they all choose to see the exterior
And that exterior screams

Preppy
And preppy
Don't have souls

Or so they thought
Until the day he was consumed
By his own poetry
Waking up to a heavy chest
My body begging me to sleep again
And my anxiety begins the second I realize I'm alive
I'm trying to learn to function
With all of this negative energy inside me
I know it'll pass and
I know it'll get better
But right now it hurts
I feel unloved
Unloveable
I feel lost inside myself
A place I can't stay too long
Before I lose my mind
I can tell myself I'm worth it and
That my worth isn't defined by others
And it works for a bit
Until something else comes up and
My heart loses its energy
And I either feel like giving up
Or ready to fight everyone
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