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Jan 1 · 224
new year's dreams
AJ Simmons Jan 1
When lips have sunk the ships of yesteryear
Man can grasp the mast and pull out the fear
Casting an artful arm beyond the horizon
set down a new game in a new love’s garden.

They’ve done it so; whenever lost and known
As the hull bows to Davy Jones’ show
Let him have it. He only sings well for the dammed
And our light lingers beyond the darkest sands.
for yesterday, today, and tomorrow
Oct 2020 · 199
Twenty on black
AJ Simmons Oct 2020
All the world's a spiel
tall tales torn from a heart; peeled.
Everyone desperate to feel
As they all lay under their ends heel
So many roles we'd play
Just to get a little more warmth today
Surging sweaty waves
Scratching at ever ending holidays
Putting hearts into ATM'S
For the roulette wheel of freedom again
Clamber up the display pen
Just to hide our broken sealed goods, friends.
Spin it again.............
Jun 2019 · 187
Lady Soul
AJ Simmons Jun 2019
You know those times
Those times when you wake up and every breath feels like speed
Every blink gets you higher
And every sniff feels like euphoria
A flicker of shadow looks like a rainbow
And the smell of dog **** could be bottled and worn
And you'd happily be an ambassador
So much so that you contemplate getting naked in the cold
Relinquishing the truth that your tackle would be non-existent
Because you couldn’t give a ****, freedom ain't malignant
And don’t need to be
Coz days like these
When in the face of rage you feel the breeze
And you stay dry in the rain
Beaming a smile that doesn’t wain
Inside screaming out
Little ticket tout
My lady soul
She’s on fire.
today isn't one of those days
Oct 2018 · 265
AJ Simmons Oct 2018
In the loud hours of silence
I can hear the dust talk
Tales of yesteryear and tomorrow
Of our slumber surely wrought

And If I listen harder enough
I can hear your footsteps
And as my pillow softens up
I fall upwards to be met

With the smell that once soothed
Now fades to gray too soon.

In and unto you
we danced,
once upon a moon.
Sleep is a funny thing.
May 2018 · 216
Self Made
AJ Simmons May 2018
Sometimes it takes the sky to open my eyes
To what's shone, coming and wrong,
To what's bright, rich and right
Sometimes in the emptiness of the night
when I lie awake to your choir of snores,
I chase the Devils of idyllic futures and more,
I hear me in them, in laments of glory, such songs,
and watch the warm creep by from feelings thought ever gone,
it ends,
yet when I truly wake to the scarlet rise
through the smog and maze on the horizon
I realize that in the center of concrete bushes,
as the wind of doubt whoosh whooshes,
I'm standing awake in the circle of change and growth
And I've waded through the black sludge of failures malicious moat,
and now I see me
as the dirt's swill stills
and I look upon my face
for the first time without distaste
and know that between this mud
and the roaring horizons blaze
stands a champion here present,
self made.
Look in that mirror and smile a while.
Apr 2018 · 149
Mar 2018 · 546
Coffee On Spring Morning
AJ Simmons Mar 2018
This cloudy morn of murk,
Where on my tongue I taste dirt,
I should wallow in grey plumes, sir,
But I glide by this dank flirt,

On lady nature lay cobbled stone,
Without shoes we’d feel at home,
But this spring one looks to be known,
In diamond vestments is how we ‘grow’,

As my glide comes to a stop,
And I lay rest in this earthy shop,
Sipping elixirs of generations crops,
I breath I taste tip top,

Chakra advocate with stature,
I see you too truth catcher,
Without shoes, tongue out plan hatcher,
The dew fills your pallet, oh catch her.
Coffee does funny things.
Mar 2018 · 493
Of mind, Of Rats.
AJ Simmons Mar 2018
Everywhere I go,
No matter the pull I tread low'
Low beneath the underpass and gutter
Filled with slime grime and clutter
Of mind
Of rats
And delinquents not men
Let loose in a remote controlled pen
Freer are pigs and caged little hens
We don't know we chase
An unquenchable thirst
And blindly can't see the fishing wire
That it's dangled from in front of our faces.
Oct 2017 · 980
AJ Simmons Oct 2017
How would I draw me?
In pencil on time stained paper?
On the canvas of future so dreamy?
Or on a mirror with brushstrokes much braver?
Certainly not in cyberspace even thinner
Where there's everything but real stars that glimmer
Cause to me, you see, fellow maverick,
All that is pure we can't draw and wear like a fabric
It's lived breathed and loved
It's etched into your senses and leaves you for dead
For you to rise again like the morning sun
With a painting to show to your darling young ones,
Without form, style and genre,
So take the water and gulp then go sculpt nothing
And leave to go discover in the romance of mystery.
Oct 2017 · 246
The Ghosts Of Home
AJ Simmons Oct 2017
Today you'll find me in the role of home sick slick,
Owning a back street stage in an auditorium of ghosts,
I'll take my bow and go on down to an amber haven of disillusioned bravery.
I'll wake to the sound of drums rumbling in my gut,
wash my pale face with water filled with paint,
And then I'll swipe the toast, smile ready to boast,
wishing I'd be behind some walls and a moat.

A.J Simmons '17. ©

— The End —