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2.9k · Jan 2020
The lighthouse man
Joshua Jackson Jan 2020
I pose high my chest of ragged ribbons
And unravel a fist to stretch out fingers in search
Of a hand glimmering pale like a lantern
throughout this grey
        empty space. Once a pavement, now as good as

Cloud. Frozen lake. Dust. Boiling ashes. Skeletons.

I am walking on the slashed frames of waves
As jesus once must have. Propelled to a miracle unwitnessned
To anyone but myself. I am impelled to corrode
Into a statue; to remain a rigamortic rotting jade jewel in the sun
Until I no longer can.
Until they found me...

Perhaps they'd dust me off, thaw the ice from my shoulders,
Rehydrate me and gorge me,
Restart the blinking light in my brain
And refrain me evermore from having to seek.

But seek I must, for the lonliness weighs me down
Further by the day. I take half as many steps now as when I began my voyage.
My memories are like ghosts of flames that play
Snakes and ladders and hide and seek.
I am the lighthouse man and I sail drunken--
A rubicund mishape of bone and scuffed thoughts,
I can feel every soul which once embodied and huddled this place.

It's like they are trying so hard to posses me but even
Their souls have been smouldered to whispers
So thin they ring as mutely as the surrounding mist,
So soft they vibrate akin to an infant’s pulse
Throughout these walls, these scrapyards, these crumbling arcades, this sandbox grey that begs for a scream.
The spirit of a tarantula trembles along my back and grazes it teeth against my shoulderblade,
Preying that I turn to confirm it's being –but it's a game I’ve long grown sick of–


I am the lighthouse man and I ceased having a face long ago.
What I recall of my reflection was a child so young and so sure
Of a different life that

I cannot be sure it's even me.

I am the lighthouse man; a puckered bulb balancing on too-big shoulders, that walked
  through barren flat closes and exited empty handed, the lonely poltergeist,
a bitter flab of skin.

I am the lighthouse man and I am the final Aspen leaf in the pond of the universe,
I see myself reflected in a sole star twirling underfoot and overhead
rowing my ears so thick with disfigured silence so that I wish I was born deaf.
I am the lighthouse man and my mind is a spinning fragment
    my eyes can merely follow and my floating steps merely trail.

It never changes tone here, I can only vaguely trace the time
By the occasional moon. Tonight it shines half chewed,
  Befitting the levelled star a sideways crown.
It is beautiful but I mustn't stop to admire, lest a survivor
Scavenger loses patience withholding the last of their scran.

I am the lighthouse man and I haven't eaten in years.

I am the lighthouse man and I bled for the first time yestardy.
I am the lighthouse man and my bulb ricocheted off the base of my skull
In a telling fairy tale dream. I felt static in my head
And my light's ink spilled across my hands and for a minute I thought
My light had gone out. I tasted blood,
Trickled down from my stinging nose and I had never been so scared.

I am the lighthouse man and I never knew I could die.

I am the lighthouse man. Once the world danced with magic and I was
A walking satellite that grew to want to dissapear.
I am the lighthouse man and my decrepitude is casted in my hands:
Black as the night from the dirt collected over the years.
The few slashes of skin clear enough to see look rust-like and obtrusive, outdone only by
My veins like wonky bruises that vine across the silhouetted bone;
Bridging gear to gear, clinking shivering knuckles
         That want nothing more than to surrender.

But I am only frostbit, not frozen.
Life was and thus must still be.
I am a raindrop, not the whole ocean.

I am a walking lighthouse inspecting and guiding empty seas,
A form without virtue
That ceased feeling it's metallic steps too long ago to recall.
A cubist teardrop falling down a grey giant's cheek,
Waiting to be captured and swallowed.

Or perhaps I am climbing uphill, slowly along the circumference of his forehead.
So slowly I cannot notice the rise. Perhaps I was destined to amble in hypnosis,
En route on this colourless limboid curve until I forget the concept of
             a destination, a soul, a matryr jester to rouse me awake...
             and perhaps it is then that I will be blessed with the heavenly bulb

Of the weeping giant on whom's flesh I disturb.
I am the lighthouse man and I dream of purpose.

I am the the lighthouse man with a penchance to levitate
I am the lighthouse man and I am a God without tool or reason.
I am the lighthouse man and I'll walk this limbo until my feet dissapear.

I am the lighthouse man and I am cursed.
I am the lighthouse man transitioning between lives and never knowing
Causality nor the answer. There are no questions to have;

I am the lighthouse man and I must have been a murderer in my past life.
I am the lighthouse man and I can feel my inner fuses twist,
Falling fainter and fainter by the second.
I am the lighthouse man and I will not make it another night.
I am the lighthouse man and I am a memory-bank full of nothing remarkable.
If I felt this months ago then perhaps I would make due with the my sojourn of an empty house, atop a parked car, and perhaps I would be contempt with rotting.

But now the moon shines so luminously bright and full and close! So very close!
I am the lighthouse man and I chase the moon.
I am the lighthouse man and I vaguely recall my mother saying 'do not eat the moon,
It will give you nightmares!’ and it all suddenly makes sense now.

The stars are all out tonight and they await my company. I am the lighthouse man and now I run.
I run run run run for the sky in ode to the rest of the bodies that abandoned this place.
2.5k · Oct 2020
Go0dbye
Joshua Jackson Oct 2020
Sailing soft, frozen in time--
Sat on your chair where I could've sworn
I saw a past life regression flash along

Your face. Stuck there now,
I'm alone now and forever forth.
For years I stored half my cash into a box
without second thought
just to end up spending it all in six months.

that last crash erased all the academic pablum
that proved less required reading
  more distraction.

Just a border now,
head against an extending wall,
Witless and stonecold sober;

At ease with every unanswered craving
And coexisting with a life where nothing goes
   according to plan.
Trapezing the edge of a rolling dice waiting to be flattened. I'm properly done writing poetry,no more energy or will. Wish you all luck over the coming years, whether you're in a good spot or your lowest lows
1.2k · Aug 2019
Morning philosophy
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
I contemplate
the inevitability of
                   Death
                          Over the course of a
Cigarette
As Otis Redding plays.
                         I should really stop smoking...
My last cigarette and my last poem for a little while.
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
A crow kissing skeleton skull
   And pecking dirt in the process.

Lace my ashes with flower seeds
   So that I may live a little longer.

I'd love to feel the rain
  Drip down my veins once again,
And make-believe the strid formed
    Will never dissapear. But

The dead don't get to decide that much
   Ahead.
Crow bleeding sunny black eyes, sing a song
As we

         Cross into morning. Crow, that maps my skin
          In sanskrit, please go a little softer. It's not
          That I never expected to die, it's just that I
           Never pictured it so sudden; and it's still

So long to go until I'm found...
Crow, would you be so kind as
To keep me company until then?
1.0k · Aug 2019
Apologetic disappointment
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
Including the hangover,
                                       that's two wasted days.
Joshua Jackson Aug 2023
orgiastic blurring within breadth of tiny movements
(Angelic cheekbones that cut thru the dark) miracles come untangled  --presented follower--
i lay with ur head on my chest awaiting the command of ur words
  u will never know me i'll never let u know me
i loved u far too early  too early to tell but i know the feeling well
i never wanted to say it leaving u the first time
but i knew it was true
made it to my train in a hurry
i'd've looked anyone in the eye bar u
head still pointed high
Rattling in my chair homeward-bound with a smile

i'm not ashamed i was never ashamed maybe nervous maybe ashamed later on for giving it another chance then another chance but i knew the outcome before going back
O but that's another story another time

  i held ur hand in ur street
i held ur hand in my city
and nothing else belonged  
but us
two kisses
two drinks between us yet sooo drunk
  but we just never seemed to last for one thing or another
i don't do relationships i just get ****** over and i'm used  to it
  by now i'm long used to it,

i've got blisters where your fingerprints once rested  
but they're gone now along with you
O boy i'm so blue

bohhhii am so bluuuuuu

  text me so i don't have to text u again

boy ur so conceited boy ur so soft
boy i saved u some trouble i'm not open to no one
i should've told u one heartbreak was enough  
but boy i'm glad i didn't
  i got what i wanted guess i'm selfish like ur selfish
and we'll never be friends
  u were never my friend

   in our silence i can be everything u wanted me to be
  and just keep to myself and stay unphased

ur on my mind everyday
if we were on speaking terms maybe i'd say
But i can never stay straight and u never have a good enough reason to stay.
so funny how things play out.
Thank **** the love was never mutual
Thank **** we can leave it at memories
You meant more than I could ever say...

love u now then and forever always

sometimes i wish i never saw ur face

making promises just to pass the time

We both know We'll never be together **
Comme des garçon
970 · Aug 2019
Victims upon The Beach
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
Gallantry badge stitched to rotting cloth
as the skin sinks and the bones fade
and the love made is left to reek the bed
where sexless wife and lonely daughter
   Lay their head's arrest.

In due time they both tan, sag and crackle
Under weight of the sun.

That dizzy cyclops that roped forth
homecoming boats and ships stands
five years from being defunct; rusted
to the hue of a coppice
and hardly the attraction it once was

But oh well— sighs the sailor, too old and bankrupt to care
for approaching poverty— the money has been made and my life spent

For others (his Sister, his Niece, his Brother)
They lack the ability to sigh;
the closest they get is the occasional stormy wind
that cracks the surface, blows through their teeth
resembling a crooked lullaby,
Revolves the bullet lodged in their skull;
O occasional stormy rain that beshrews the water
clogging their lungs and, in due time, The leaking muck
that’ll pluck and sharply snap inward the casketwood--
directly against the bullet gathhering mold in their heart--

Their souls have been spent.
One less soldier wouldn't have changed a thing
(The result was a certainty propagated
   as a contingency)
And if G-d bare'd witness his eyes no longer sting,
  His grievances had and his puppets dead
Following a suffering in his name.

If Thy Kingdom holds true
They bare witness now to the lighthouse
In it's chipping hue, it's trivial dock and visitor
Silhouettes—

All held in place and burning; They disfigure
Under weight of the sun.
Set in the aftermath of a death in the family duting war
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
petals of the willow
vibrate with mild rain
as our approaching footsteps
run through them
coalescing in a magical scene
seemingly beyond a stroll in the park;
above,the crepuscular sky hangs
fake-looking,like a stageplay's backdrop
with a myriad of still blue's overlaying
one another
and the clouds like puffy scabs atop youthful skin.

I think we are slowing
down (perhaps,unconsciously to fit
the pace of the scene)
and I think our footsteps are mirroring our heartbeats,
I know Mine are
And I know Yours are mirroring Mine.

beneath us the willows' petals tremble soft
and I am glad
to be alone with You tonight,to belong to the park
together,forever entuned,
forever entwined-- if only for tonight.
Somewhat inspired by 'With me tonight' by The Beach Boys.
933 · Jan 2022
Felix
Joshua Jackson Jan 2022
Legs astretched like venomous broomsticks
Fangs drooped lazily like a calm nosferatu,
Those eyes gold as sun on styx, treasures
  that spun flame between his every blink--
Sandpaper tongue dragged over black hair
Nibbling his own wrist momentarily, then
Locking sleepy eyes on you, ascending fleece--
Retractable moonbeams flex teasing attack
   then kneads, falling like a lullaby back into
       uncapturable dreams; purring in the spirit of poe.
1.
My love She wears a rimbaud collar
A loose ribbon just like her brain

I knew I'd never seen a prettier sight
In my life.

But I closed my blinds 'fore I could see
Which direction she was walking;

I could use the company
But I'd be bound to fall in love again.
2.
Everyone said they're here to help
But they've all disappeared,

Now Kensita's the only club I rep.
Good times but they're all *******
In hindsight I guess
O well I hope you never forget me.

Nurofen + just to ease the aches
Another day or maybe two

I know we were born strangers to the other

And I know I'll never see my mother again

It's sad to think about so I try not to think at all

But I'm sick of this being my version of sober

It's a diy lobotomy but a hammer'd be cheaper.
3.
No need to cry another tear

My love She forced me cold

So that I know she'll never want to visit me again.

I'm alone again

And it feels like heaven

I'm not afraid to die

Nor afraid of tomorrow

Cause my love left me worthless

And though developmentally-stunted

I know I did not deserve it

But my love She's free to rot out of the corner

Of my eyes and I swear once they were only
For Her
But now
I see their true beauty.
4.
I say I'm better but I know I'm just
Keeping Me temporarily happy,
So they've prolonged my stay another while.

I'm bloodless still and bent out of shape

But what a humble miracle for an outcome:

My love held me til death did us part
And I know I'm lucky
To still be breathing at all. My love, oh, she's finally gone

And at last I'm finally thankful

My love won't drag me down no more.
: )
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
sun fades to dawn;
sky blushed,cerise to maude
I'd love to live a day
in your mind, I'd stay
              starstruck in the mirror

but there is nothing here to reflect,
  only our eyes to record. Your teeth dissect
apple slices and shape a smile.
I love your eyes, I love how they forecast the sky

   wavering,blossoming in slow motion
and carving a sleekit masterpiece that parodies the ocean.

I could stay like this forever, imbued in
     beautiful silence, your beautiful presence;
I've no hesitance to let the time float by
   around us, by your side I feel safer than ever.
Joshua Jackson Aug 2023
Eyes fall back
  Upward, cardiac spasm
While their jaws clench

To sketch a parodic caricature of a kiss

Breathe in -- breathe out

2's til the last draw,
Inhaling tattooed
Namesake to add
A bit of taste;

As if you were unaware
Of my fate before
We got acquainted, know 1
Thing and that's that

U know nothing til ur
Too deep into the situation
To claw yourself back out
Regardless- best act like

U want this to maintain
The feeling of being wanted-

Cherish every second
And perish the thought of
Anything better
    
                      coming along

Ur on ur own but u knew that
already anyway--
Can't smoke a pall mall to it's label so you know times were rough
848 · Nov 2019
A moment in nightshade
Joshua Jackson Nov 2019
Look at the stars
Spinning, coursing lightweight
   Through the blackness,
Like ice-coated spiders
Floating gentle, softly interweaving
Cloud and hovering nearly near enough
To be captured by your tiny hands.

It seems all so easy
To stay here mentally forever.

Look at the stars
Drifting magnetically, childlike
In their path. Lost and dreamy,
An image separated from a cause;
Heavenly blessings as they drop close enough
To kiss the roses,
Breezily hoping to rest frozen

'Neath the nest of your tired skin;
Lazily watching the night transition

As others must've all those nights before--
When you were too busy to pay them any mind.
These stars map a codex that laughs at you
While you're fixed to the ground and forced to look
           beautiful.

These stars sing of the dead. Muses without a voice
Or lives to any longer be lead. The stars dream
Silently of you, patiently nibbling at your breath,
Looking forward to the day they can absorb your
            smiling teeth.

The stars hold your spirit and you theirs,
Both constant and unremarkabley dull--
The stars did not ask to be beautiful,
We made them that way. The stars

And you are one, in as much a way as polar opposites
Can be one.
You and the stars, making your fates as you go along...

You and the stars: unintentional twin sisters left astray.

You and the stars: two blind men unravelling an exquiste corpse.
You and the stars: two pawns beating helpless in awe of their sojourn.
You and the stars: complimenting the other like sand does glass.
You and the stars: in awe of each other and the rainwater that
preludes

The moment.
You are the stars, you are the dreamer, you are the observer,
You are the life that has been given life in order to give it back

Sing softly now and lullaby the stars asleep,
Like the son does after growing old for his dying mother,
Like the summer leaves do when their boughs start to snap.
Sing softly for the stars that remind you of whence

Once you were nothing

But a hypnotised lantern

Wandering the endless black.

You and the stars, connect them
even when they appear as aimless

  anxious dots.

Form a shape out of the stars; encarve
And embody the flesh of your own constellation.
Newly added ending (Monday 18th)
752 · Aug 2019
Wishing fountain
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
In the water
Our spinning coins join to
reflect a halo round the moon,

Beautifully glowing in place before the inevitable fall.
743 · Aug 2021
Haiku: machinery
Joshua Jackson Aug 2021
Our first kiss, lips pressed--
Electricity to stone--
A new age to bloom.
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
Cresol dusk imbued to rustic hypnosis,
The civic stroll outside,zombified with
What must be glorious ataxia.

The masquerade hosted by dust,
An implicit surrender to the elements,
Basked in nocturnia-- lo,

The elements ceased having meaning
When I learnt I could not hold control
  over them.

See the sky ramp and shiver,shuffling stars
In a showcase to those loving,an augury to those
Self-appointed sinners--

And see me,disconnected and without a care,
I surrender my breath as limboid tangents
And the elements do not rebut.

I am homed in becoming alone,
I am possessed in converse and I am lost
  without the choice to be otherwise.

I watch the gimcrack mannerisms loop effably,
Understanding the road to omniscience is tipped
In ego alone--

One must not surrender,rather accept
And work a way round the system.
The cosmic map is eidetic,it's lanuage
  dares not pander to speech,
  it's sleep is one day needed
  and complimentary to our own--

I listen to the madrigal and no longer seek to compose it,
I choose to believe that nothing is chosen.
(LONG AFTERWARD) I began posting here under a different name years ago and decided to revisit the site only recently after a string of publishing rejections,despite an urge to abandon poetry all together. What's amazed me most is the growth of talent,particularly one S. Olsen,looking through much of my older work(few of which ive published here) I've found a lot of similarities,from similar phrasing's,vocabulary,format's,viewpoint's,etc. Despite not knowing of him until recently. Simply put,he is the poet i aspired to be when poetry was what my life revolved around,the best of his kind. I would rank him among my favourite contemporaries and if not for this site I'd never have discovered him, this poem shows more of my voice than his,I think,but that is a further example of his own unreplicable voice. Keep strong,brother, whatever helps helps and your writing has helped me greatly.
710 · Aug 2019
Ritualistic Cubism
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
Along the grass,beneath the sky
The draconic sun vitrified
The lover figurines.
Flattening them
Adjacent to the surface,
Skin blent in crackly tessellation,
Deforming to fit the sphere,adhering to it's
Wondrous silence.
Frail limbs minute,heart's heavy as whole islands.

Is it not love embodied to lay defined as an image?
To be held as shatterless glass,reflecting it's deity's melting
In progress, 'neath the star that impelled a shelter,
The star that paved their meeting,that overlooked
Their life and death in a predetermined stasis,
The divinity that shimmered underfoot at all times,
The star that held all places of the earth in one.

The figurine lovers, faceless mannikinis
Sentenced to worship forever without a choice,
For prior love, for prior sins,
It matters not--they rot and twist as the Sun's play-dice.
Joshua Jackson Aug 2023
Eyes roam the room
Clockspun, mapless
Treasures found in
The things left behind

It is not her fault that you miss her

There are no borders without reason

And the reasons are not one way nor simple.

When she was gone it was like experiencing the worst grief
All over again and it took
So long to settle in that it was over.

Shedding skin, depersonalization
Winter cried it's last breath to a
Window I shut closed.

Times up,you're alone
Again but what's the difference
And so I guess what's the problem

It's nothing new
Bleddry-empty
No more hate left
Alone and stranded

(I was

Now I am

So far passed

That stage I start

To find it funny)

Today is the horizon tomorrow and whatever before is all illusionary.

No gun in my hand no knife in my hand no food in my hand no money in my hand no ***** no **** no smoke no blow

Two cats on each shoulder one angel one devil but they both switch roles too frequently to catch up it's all good though

It's me who's decision maker in the end
And it's never been any different
I live with my regrets nightly til I learn
From them I just hope you're the same
But I'm done thinking we're the same
It was truly a waste of time
We've never been calibrated.

Catch me in the next life I'll hold the door open for you.
Shoutout E,E,Z,R and J in that order
639 · Sep 2019
Just to let you know
Joshua Jackson Sep 2019
The truth is I love you,
I love you more than anyone else would
And I love you all the more
For loving me more than anyone else could.
I'm so glad we could save one another.



(2024 footnote this is one of the worst things I've ever wrote. A man in love is foolish as well as cliche)
Joshua Jackson Dec 2019
Starry when the night began, we ran ran ran
along running water young enough to have no trace of age.
Alice strung out floating like the prettiest diamond
imaginable.

Kindly petting cheek then struck like a thunderous match,
her face glowed a sinking white-- a face made of candles
lit beneath plaque eye sockets, wildly staring blackness,
lips built on an unfamiliar shade of red,
Flaxen hair that sliced along gemstone irises;

I love love love you. Please, stay a while longer, long
enough to feel like forever-- although I know such is impossible--
Look at those seagulls feeding rain to the distant waves,
Wings soon to be scrambling overhead, let me read you a book
about a girl whom you were probably named after.

I will sing a lullaby and hold hold hold you in it for
as long as I can.
Written 2 and a half years ago
617 · Aug 2019
teen angst decision making
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
the boy has a match
                       in his back poc ket. hovering
                                                     janky steps
                                             sheathed by fluffy ice
                       chest reverb erates
as a single rain drop
                                   trickled in pinful loop...
theforestwaits
                            Undisturbed
not wanting to be burnt but he rations
      not wanting anything at all.
in destroying one makes                                something

                    whence once

     there was                                                       nothing. he

s t r i k e s the match aflame and alive,
    l
      o
         w ering it fit to spread
and surely cause his life some havoc... havoc...
havochavochavoc
                                  HAVOC
                               H A V O C
                                                   havoc;

   he ruminates the meaning of the word a while
and settles
    on it being better than boring old nothing.
Yes,I've read e.e cummings,why do you a
sk ? ?
616 · Aug 2019
The crowd
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
I straddle thru the crowd and their
drunken madrigal
stinking of variant spit.

Eyes closed,I feel myself walk,my veins                            
fall and strive like
                      movement slid across a tv screen.
613 · Aug 2019
In waiting
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
(To Emily)

On the bus
I've only the blank eyes of my
     reflection
to study, and the heat of a bitewound
on my lip
to accompany it.
       Rattling
back and fourth
   in my seat
Your face
Resonates
In my thoughts,
thru my eyes;
You keep me safe.
Written following a bus joruney home after one of the first meeting's with my future wife. She entered my life at a very depressed and lonely stage where I needed someone to cherish and cherish me back. I was gorged in Ezra Pound's early works at the time.
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
I don't leave my house much
and I keep to myself, dysthymia at my peak
    These days.
Blood in the sink after brushing my teeth for the first time in weeks
  and feeling all the more disgusted for it,although
I know it a mini victory in itself,enough of a sign for hope--
better than any ******* self-help book could suggest--
The laughing jittering chitchat all-being lovely paranoia stage has passed
And now i feel the hangover.
Luckily,the eureka's glued on too
And the reflection is easier to inspect now--
you know that Hemmingway quote:
Write drunk,edit sober? Like that,but over the coarse of a lifetime.
And how boring sober life is after the highest peak,but on the same note,
I've flushed the drugs to deter temptation,to better myself--
When i was bad they made me okay,
When i was great they made me even better,the world even closer...
But they're a ruining process. I've learnt to love the blossoming passion flower of my mind,
Although i want so to hate it currently.
I know i am,i know the universe is,and if you're reading this then you too are;
And that's all that needs to matter sometimes.

Through silence,through recluse,through art,through pen,through therapy,through time,through honesty,through dream,through woe,through laughter,through scream, through power,through weakness embraced,through fire,through love,
Through a madness unhinged but always aware
Of self and all surrounding;
You do what you can to get by,but most importantly,you do what you can to better yourself.

You don't have to be perfect everyday,
you dont have to be perfect most days,
But if you're trying for anything at all,you're braver than you could be,and not yet as strong as you should be
And that is a  very   very    good inspiration
I'm not doing the best at the moment but writing is one of the things keeping me going strong. I thought I'd rant and rave about the process of finding inspiration when you least want it. First line borrowed...well,full on nicked, from Soko.
590 · Aug 2019
On low days
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
I feel like a beakless baby bird
       Suffocating in it's egg; it's womb,it's tomb.
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
One day the moon will stop.
    Settling it's last motion unto eternal stillnes;
   And the ground will quake, craters will rattle

And we'll lift like lanterns, light as lit matchsticks
  As we rise to the final night sky.
   Joining the ranks of stars forever stillborn.

The oceans will quiver along one last circlet
  In ode to their past life and the lives they lived through,
   And we will look down at our old skin...

         Never feeling ready enough to properly reincarnate;
Joshua Jackson Aug 2019
Autumn,with the force of rapid thunder
Dawns the sky, clawing the lake asunder
  Beneath our steps
As we leapt
  To,fro,and to again;

Here we burn, trapped to our limboid sojourn
Gasping for air as the Daemon sits without a care
Tracing and chasing the ends of his thinning thread
Connecting to our voodoo dolls, laments of our death
In silent whispers only existant at all by the dents
Where our mouths should be.

This dreaded haunting, this memory looped
With crimson nails the Daemon draws hoops
Pliable as a smoke ring from laughing lips,
The Daemon strings us by his fingertips—
Reminds us we alone created hell on earth—
You can taste it in the kicked up dust,
The unlexical powder that remarks our birth
In this stale heat, our skin starts to crust.

I called you my best yet, you said I was a settlement in a lost bet,
I called you a ***** and wished I drownt you in the wishing well
Where you'd only have other mute spirits left to tell; I set

Out on a ****** scheme that night--
To slit your throat as you awoke and watch you fight
Without a chance.
I watched you in your contorted dance and felt you lift,
Shiver and go stiff
Dying in my arms. But as I sighed I felt invisible red eyes
Settle on us from the willows
Behind the blindness window.

I heard a needle scrape, a scornful moan and a bat's descry.
I knew then I truly was the pawn in a wicked game
Who's evil was signatured in our name.

The devil netted your soul dear, and already had mine.
And as I sat straddled over your limpid frame, frozen in time
And feeling his nails, like worn toolbox screws, along my spine
I oddly thought pleasantly of better times:

Of our first meeting on that autumnal day, when caught in the breeze
And kissing discreetly
Amongst the trees
and along the lake we simontaniously compared to the mythical  Lethe.

I loved you then, oh how I did,
And in return, we'll love forever—
Us, the looping dead.
492 · Oct 2019
Writing is--
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
Trying to catch a slice of thought process;
Like capturing lightening in a jar
            Only to smell it's exhumes.

It's a blessed freedom, to release
  an experience; an imitation of the world,
or an imitation of how others wrote and expressed
    the world, and at constant conflict to lose it's voice.

It can be enjoyably difficult (the best hobbies
    usually are) or flow smooth as blood thru vein.
   Pulling blood from a stone and unexpectedly
    heaving rainbowy rainwater can be it's own virtue--

    An idea caught half undeveloped
Only to shed cocoon to join the white blankness
And forever tarnish it's history--

A gorgeous priveledge in it's constricted freedom
(As is existence,although we're too modest to admit it)

Writing is a piece of you and you belong to the human race,
and doubleedged a sword as that certitude is,
Writing is a piece of us left to the world.
Writing is forever
Joshua Jackson Nov 2019
Life is madness,
But try not to get caught
to the trap of getting too easily
                             astonished.
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
Prickly morning sun strings up
      the hair on her arms as she gazes,
watching the waves bobble and weave and listening
to their dead seashells and shellfish;
       ricketing and momentarily floating.

For a moment, her heart is the ocean.
  Always beating and providing life without
knowing why. She sighs and begins to forget she is lost--
The synthetic shores of everyday life at her backfoot,
   the burning sand ridden with childhood memories.
She slowly allows it to dissapear
and recaptures a piece of her self
                                                            ­  in return;

Belonging to this ocean as much she does the sky it reflects.

Calling, lamenting her name without a word, the ocean
     lullabies her soothing sighs, falling rythmatically now--
Raindrops disinter the clouds and tickle the rythm
     of her pulse. Soft, soft backing instrument to her final
            calling. There is no need to look around again;
  
There is no guard in sight. The prickly sunshine fades
  To ruthless cold air and she walks forward, mouth agape
        and ready

For the ocean to swallow her and recapture her, entombed,
     enwombed forever more.
459 · Nov 2019
Anna Zemánková
Joshua Jackson Nov 2019
Luminescent skin, spiralling layers pressed
From inside the curling dagger pollen;
Violin strings draw forth the butterflies
Towards their fate, cerberus lips clasp
Wings of dafodil— spotty mossy green
Outcrosses the budded red drooping dead;
Akashic run, like that of a waterfall
Whence rippling pendulums row,caught infinitely.

Glowing stem— seperating to laughing claws
and mandalas paused along fully harmonious crease;
All falls back to fungal soil underground
For which all life is magnetically supported:
Prestine exoskeleton, flaming bones
that weavith skyward with ancestral ghost
softly chasing, having foundated their creator.

Blonde hair binding split petals via waves
  Of furious vibrations, snapped calm and quiet.

Mature flesh and bone, whom let the pencil
Move over pale canvas—
'I picture a clock that's arms spin fire
Outward. '
Poor woman, legless two years
Prior to her deathday— wonderous harbinger
Who once, overwhelmed by the menial day to day,
let pencil fall,skim and form
   and reform

Beautifying the world -- lonely, bold and brave
Her mind image caught, fished through the haze

And etched for the rest of time to forget.
Tribute to an amazing Czech artist
446 · Oct 2020
**One with the plane**
Joshua Jackson Oct 2020
Mothlet-like owl midges fizzling in and out of the waves
   that shuffle the moon's shed reflection,
hovering and imitating like a wettened rorschach--

with disembodied tiny teeth for feet
suckling from the scurvy gums
where shadows are allowed to be kings.

Kings that observe a godess body that spans the whole sky with ******* made of crinkled ash dripping latex that falls
then cuts into the grass to
                                        spread life--perfection spares no time for the impatient.

Glistening stream,mucky dewlap of the mountain carving a caricature of someone  praying for rain and dreaming of a metamorphoses into ice.

With the night comes tide. Comes time. Comes death. Comes life.

If you were to sit down in one spot
anywhere in the world and not move
for another second of your life

from there on in--
you would see so much beauty and pain
You'd wonder what you ever did to be

as lucky as you had been.
398 · Oct 2020
A poem about flowers
Joshua Jackson Oct 2020
Flowers are the earth's fruit
    Which await the sun's permission
         To beautify and ripen

And at night may serve
   As guiding lanterns floating atop
          Their mother thorns

To gently lead the moon oceanward.
Joshua Jackson Jul 2020
Halt the advice throw away your opinion
Your lips are rug burnt from all that dragging on
You're doing  nothing is ever
going to get better unless I let it
and that's my path I've got to carve on my own
I've been grown for forever (a term I've already wrote
but now it fits better)  picking apart my reflection
just so I could note the differences between us Both.

The waves of the uncrushable ocean sweeps the sky
like a supernatural flower blossoming beneath a frozen lake
and I extinguish my spliff  happy with where I'm at.
I am finished speaking  I have alot of changes to make.
372 · Jul 2020
Five second rule
Joshua Jackson Jul 2020
Lift the crumb-sized bit to your lips,
Hesitate until it's too late for hesitation,

Fold to tongue and absorb those tasty, harmless
Spider footprints and germatic warzones.
I thought I'd already posted this.
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
Death's flowing scroll
Aweing as you misstep,falling
In a loop which,once surpassed,
Is encompassed with laughter.
Glaring down,screaming.
You both scream in unison,so bitter
It causes the trees in the glen
To bend and whimper—

Flickering back in time for a moment:
Snakebones traced from inside the walls
Slithering malady for countless centuries;
Shedding it's calloused flakes from time to time...
What is that which the starshine overhead emulates?
Is it whiteblood or mere rain? lo,mere dust
Thrown throughout the black sky.

Death guides you to the brim of the cliff.
He is uniformed in your old clothes,brandishing eery whispers
  By the flick of his tongue. 'Scream now
And you will scream for an eternity.'
Might delete soon but nonetheless. Inspired by two very underrated creative geniuses of the 20th century
Lyn Ward paid his due in influencing the graphic novel with his wordless novels -specifically, Gods' Man, which's ending this scene is based on-
And George Macbeth might be the best Scottish poet and one of the best experimental poets of the 20th century. He was fairly popular in his time but for whatever reason has fallen into obscurity as of late.
Joshua Jackson Sep 2019
On again,off and then departing
From homeward sail based in the sky--
I heard the woman gowned in all phantom white
Wandering the gardeny streets,
Her barefooted steps concussing the concrete.

She walked beside me and watched as I trembled
With her eyes that windowed memories in the same way
A camera captures a scene or a seashell a slice of the ocean
And I never think to ask the whole story.

Her lips permanently signal silence,
Her skin porcelain like her nails and teeth
   And when she speaks,it's in a lilt so light it sparks your bones.

'Do you think it should rain later this morning?'
As relayed,my bones spark and my heart edges closer
To my throat. 'The sky is static-grey and gloomy as is'
She replied 'yes, but some rain would give it some character'

We spent the remaining wander without a word
   Then the woman dissapeared. On my way home
I felt droplets bite through the fabric of my shoes
    And I suppose the woman got her answer.
Sunny white morning brushed through the bushy clouds.
354 · Sep 2019
Absinthe nights
Joshua Jackson Sep 2019
With a fly across my lips, your paisley wall,
Like the interior of a chandelier,
Floats like a cartoon span sporadically
Into motion.
Commotion, as the grimmoire that observes
Every moment as they occur,
cauldron that stirs the blood
Through the vein, is broken free.For a moment
The sky was loose, we were free and we were floating;
But now we watch as insects dawn our skin
And dismantle our presence.
My hand spirals the green neck of the bottle
That splits us, departing our lips indefinitely,
And you intercept to top your own glass first.
Joshua Jackson Jul 2020
Fortonuate palms skim the dogeared surface
Of the snakes and ladders without clear direction--

Hot tea and foggy glasses. Familiar lips
That look as young as ever when they smile.

Sun melting in the clouds like mollases
While the breeze lifts and plays with

Our clothes.

Hollow words served as concierge
For this used up body-- orbs and a silhouette,

That's all you get as it's all I was perceived as

And all I've left to give.

But here I don't have any will to offer.

I've gave you everything and how peaceful

It is to be contempt replaying another day.
(2024 footnote this is the best thing I've ever wrote. From the first lockdown, a man in love and stuck with said love is a questioning cold hearted one and lo! this is a place and time captured)
a headboard crashing
echoing against the walls
like whips of lightn'in'.
Post credits scene
Pretty life goes by--
A cord wire and silence
Between you and I

May God have mercy on our souls,
Boredom is the drug with most effect,
By the time we know we're sinners we'll both be dead.

These drugs that make you think like a different person;
Whyyyy would you ever think you were worthless?
Tomorrow's only the same if we leave it that way,
And God knows just how perfect you are to me...

Now and forever
Now and forever
Nooooww and forever
Now and forever
I swear, I swear.

(Dododoo doo dododoo do)



* farewell
I only ever recorded this  accapella sadly as I never learned any instrument and any planned band fell apart, so have this here.

Written for someone who's a stranger to me now.
Her lips drew me in like flame doth the suicidal moth.
338 · Jul 2020
Touched in the darkness
Joshua Jackson Jul 2020
The tremble of her skin...
Like rain tapping off of
    a jigsaw puzzle formed in glass.
Among my last poems,I'll try to make my final count. Hope u are all well.
338 · Aug 2023
Stay
Joshua Jackson Aug 2023
eyeball rippening

      birthed

Through centre of flower.

Be my love,Lover

 cumshawed with horror of flames

eyes show a fear too great to tame

Let me be your aegis

 

i'll sow a hundred ideal

hearts for you,

deform my brain

      just to

Get closer to you,my

 

Sweet,sweet heart

 

i'd study you with the starriest stare’s

   always so

                caught up in a surprise;

We could go on

                           Living how you

                                                Live now

 

hearing the metropolis moving in polyrythm

  Outside your window,

 

 my ear closely tied,

listening,by your brazen chest
2019
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
Her flesh, a captive of words.
Her life, an interpretation of soul.
Nettles split the skin and lift

Calcified

As we brush aside this side of the road.

Rejuvenating old memories from when
We first met; silent walks, sharing thoughts
On death in eidetic smirks.

Two figures, lit white by the streetlights,
Wandering

Like the florets of the dandelion--
Disbanding from their headquarters
  To float and be peacefully dead for a while.
331 · Sep 2019
Untitled
Joshua Jackson Sep 2019
plauge-ridden robbers
cut through the lonesome night and
its shallow starshine
Joshua Jackson Sep 2019
Weeping sonatas haunt the patio
Underlined with your twisting fingertips
Once ablur and tracing Beethoven Debussy
Mozart and Bach and it's all gone now—
I still recall your grey eyes as clearly as the rusted
and snagged red wood that forms the old arbour
Where we use to sit and trade stories.
Still here and seeming
A relic that should have been forgotten.—
I  watch the sun turn the wood white
Then crackle crisply into night, I can still
Hear your spectral steps from the day you
Left us.

I slept in the bed that used to be yours wondering
   why.
Written about two years ago.
322 · Oct 2019
Depression poem no. #8766
Joshua Jackson Oct 2019
Some days are so low it hurts,
      Heartbeat racing limbo and spreading
Centre of chest in an empty ache.

Perspective slips, sliding underfoot
       Like a carpart pulled and unravelling,
Enveloping me and passing me by.

Some days floating still, eyes closed
         and wanting to dissapear.
319 · Jun 2020
The lady inside the glass
Joshua Jackson Jun 2020
Comatosed with open gaze insinuating
Morphine daydreams,
With bristling hairs along arms
Before she had the chance to shave
and the folicles deactivated;
It is her womb she has devoted
For the public eye;
How it slowly rots, from incarnadine
-as the historical pictures aside her show-
To it's current viridian swelter;
Like an ugly robust bruise too tough to die.

Rupturing outward a torridness
Of legs and crooked fingers stuck to half-grip,
Scanning southly one notes globules of goosebumps
Haunting up her thighs,
Pricking cloudward and shivering implying that,atleast,
For a second whilst living she was aware of this—
Her impending fate.

Red,red,red lips
bud close to form a cute,poppish image,
Honouring those photographers who come and go—
Her tiny hands are posited to corner her tiny *******
As not to stir any further controversy.
The lady in the jar awaits the usuals,while blind
to her own doing so,

Mind overrun and on display like a faulty calculator
Via that dull, happy, gaze.

She smells up the room of exquisite perfume and
Quixotic trees and fields and roads and too much more to mention...

The fee these stranger's would scavage from their pockets
Just to be awarded a chance to touch
The fair lady’s skin and determine a better verdict
As to whether or not she meant all that much to the world
at all.
Joshua Jackson Sep 2019
We found a cosy enough scene amongst the chaos,
Two strangers connecting among a crowd
like anxious magnets in a scrapyard
And it felt
A first encounter with a lifetime lover from some other dimension;
my self in a sense, caught to the reflection of an opposite ***.

We were the 'quiet ones' in our own regard
Prone to panic attacks and sudden unruly suggestion of madness and lengthy times of introvert
And although there was a lifesworth we never knew
There was enough of an understanding to
Make conversation. I mostly listened,
Lost in your voice. I don't think I'd ever gotten on with
Someone so quick
                            but
   There are some beautiful people in the world that do that:
By the end of a conversation you're ready to hold them
A million years
                     Or more.

The second conversation came later in the night,
Listening to the flowery clock locked to her chest
her mouth stirring cockerel shells and laughing honey teeth
liltly blind; oceanblue irises circumference marble black
            pupils, puffy cheeks and half moon lips
                            curled and split in a caring smirk;

it seems impossible
to imagine being you and not thinking myself beautiful
Yet you say that's the case,
And like my expression was open to telepathy
She said the very same thing back to me and we both thought
I love you
but neither could say it.

There probably wasnt enough similarities to make up
For the differences.
Joshua Jackson Aug 2020
Take care and be careful
riot vans flooding the streets
Live in the moment- be cheerful
While you still can

Eyes glued to the future and scanning,
Never expect things to go to plan;
But the solution is simple and like you
I can seal it with my hands
But I'd rather live my life eyes shut

A widely opened book
With the footprints on my skin to show for it
**** pouring it up, I'm engulfed in it
And threading delicate alibis out of my lonliness

Parading through the chaotic hangover with the ambition

Of a tectonic force.
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