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JS Clark May 2017
My chest, the pillow
My arm, the cradling vessel
Solace in OUR love
JS Clark May 2017
I’ve seen nothing but shallow all my days.
Have heard much railing of men against God.
Wisdom weeps as for the train she awaits.

Of this world--yes the same that's all a stage--
Hypocrites be kings! Their offspring hug fraud.
I’ve seen nothing but shallow all my days.

The preacher man in this country now begs.
Begging for one to fund the work of God--
Wisdom weeps as for the train she awaits.

The practical man speaks riddles in waves,
These disappear upon my wink and nod.
I’ve seen nothing but shallow all my days.

I want to rant against my neighbor--rave!
The unreasonable, I cheer--I laud--
Wisdom weeps as for the train she awaits.

So the solution is without delay,
Big Cadillacs and grasping at straws.
I’ve seen nothing but shallow all my days.
Wisdom weeps as for her train she awaits.
JS Clark Apr 2017
The deliberate suitor raps upon
Another parlor door.

The rocky trail has bested him
As his heel is bruised and sore.

But he feels the pain is worth it
He’s so full of love yet to outpour…

But he’s nothing specific--
She seeks the professional sort,
He’s a man miscellaneous--
He has nothing to offer...

It’s supposed that his future lay in his brains.
He’s so **** restless though,
He can only hop the trains.
He’s a miscellaneous!

The idea of his conforming to a niche
Would be a concept he could never
Comprehend...

He can’t see himself,
Though into 10,000 mirrors
He’s had to of gazed--

The jack of all trades and master of none.
This is the man miscellaneous--
Let me show you the fellow who has
Slipped through all the cracks...

The women can’t take him.
The bosses reprimand him.
The preachers like to brand him.
And society likes to use his head
For its excrement.

Like Atlas, he bears the weight.
The weight of his sin; the weight of his hate.
The whole world’s **** of useless information,
Fed to him by wires and pages--

He’s become a man miscellaneous--
Nothing specific,
Just a wavy form upon the horizon.
JS Clark Aug 2018
The mantle of dusk
Is being cast upon a heat weary
Northwestern Missouri countryside
As a young man stands upon the banks
Of a pond making casts.

He’s been at this for some time
With little to no luck whatsoever.
His favorite quarry, the largemouth bass,
Has eluded him successfully thus far.

He’s been wandering this pond’s banks
For a coupl’a hours now,
Certainly an eternity when the
Fish aren’t attacking the lure.

The youth knows one can’t catch
The bass just standing in one place,
So he scans the smooth pond surface
For activity.

He gets teased by flopping fish here and There
As they feast upon a mid-summer’s smorgasboard
Of bugs and worms and frogs that chose to Zig
Instead of zag.

He finally spots a place he thinks
Will afford him the greatest chance at Landing that
Largemouth he knows he can catch,
And so he posts up for just a while longer.

He looks to the west and sees
A final sliver of the Sun hug the horizon.
The light is fading fairly quickly, and he’s All but done.
The trek home isn't far, but he has no Lantern
And has had enough of the mosquitoes.

One more cast, he thinks to himself, just One more.
He draws back, flicks his wrist, and lets fly.
He cranks on his faithful Zebco 33
And just as he is to bring in what’s
Always been his lucky beetle spin,

WHAUMP!!!

A bass akin to Moby **** himself Explodes
The pane of glass surface and
Devours the lucky lure.

In sheer delight, the young man and bass Begin to fight,
And what a fight this pond monster Provides!
The young man’s line strains, his pole Cranes, yet holds with the thrashing and Convulsions that only a bass can deliver in Its ****** attempts to divorce Itself from The hook.

The young man was prepared for this fish-
He had waited since he first learned to bait A hook for it--
Prepared with the right pound test of line,
The right rod, and the right reel.

The youth lands the prodigious Largemouth
And takes him off the hook.
Wrapped in twilight, there the teen stands,
With at least a six pound bass in hand,
Grinning and looking west at the Sun Goin away.
JS Clark Jan 2018
Life is way too short to worry about Lengthening it.
JS Clark Sep 2018
When times get tough, and tensions should ride high;
When one’s hands are lashed and frustration’s sound,
I take a ride through the morning country.

Like a sweet raspberry cream filled fruit pie,
I savor the pleasure that gets around.
The morningside country beckons to me.

The city’s too busy; crowded and fried.
I wish to kiss the winds with a resound!
I take a ride through the the morning country.

I wake up, and the sun is in my eye.
She's there with me as my feet hit the ground,
The morningside country beckons to me.

This woman I love, she knows how to try,
She knows where my sincere heart can be found.
We take a ride through the morning country.

There are those days that certainly blindside.
What I do often for sorrow to drown--
I take a ride through the morning country,
The morningside country beckons to me.
JS Clark Aug 2018
Why is the Pentagon so sprawling?
Why should there be so many
Doors?
It is so I cannot stand or sit
To block entry,
Or proffer peace down
Its miles of corridors.

Why is the Capitol Building
So big?
Why does it seem so regal?
It is so I may grow weary
Climbing its steps
As I try to remind my congressman
To check against those Pentagon evils.

Why is the Supreme Court so imposing?
Instead of a temple, it should be a
Log cabin.
Imagine if it were a little more cozy,
But hey, we like our justice cold,
And perhaps a modicum
Rabid.

Then there’s the White House.
Her walls have seen so much.
From getting burned out by the British,
To sheltering both buffoon and
Brilliant.
The latter and former rendering more and More out of touch.

For the brilliant, we have the
Memorials and the shrines.
One of these is simply a great ditch.
The black granite cries with you
As you cry;
A proper reminder of brave sacrifice,
And that the Pentagon can be a *******.
JS Clark Dec 2018
Accentuate the positives!

One must cull one’s self from the herd!

Etch sublime visions
Obtained naked on the wilderness hilltop
In Earth’s stone,
Or write them on these sheets provided
By its mighty trees and
Resilient leaves.

Baste the naysayers
With Tony Robbins’ ladle
Full of succulent
Can-do verve!

Annihilate their gloom with
Bazookas of hope,
Uzis of alacrity,
Shotguns of perseverance,
And AK-47’s of love—

Live on the slopes of
Vesuvius—
Pitch tents in Tornado Alley
For vacation—
Go grocery shopping on the Serengeti,
And woo Amazons and Nubian warrior
Princesses.

Fear has no stronghold!
The end will not be the end!!
Eternal hard-on!!!
JS Clark Sep 2018
I’m bucking trends—
Tendencies—
I’m going against
The flow of the universe.

It’s what I’ve always done,
Really,
What I’ve always preferred.

In the case of the you and I,
The cosmos seems to speak
Quite clear—
However, I’ve been just too stubborn
To lend it my
Practical ear.

Where you stand, you’re
The queen of my dreams,
Fair or no—
Propelling me against the
Astronomic flow.
JS Clark May 2017
The visceral glides,
High above the whiskey falls--
I'm in the barrel.
JS Clark May 2017
There was Winter's cold,
But I was with YOU my LOVE!!
Grand hibernation!!!

— The End —