Another day falling
from the crack of yesterday,

a patch of pearl
burning in the amber west
flaring up heaven
firing me up
in the pains of solitude
and poetry.

Home beckons through a dark way
where hope breathes eternal
as lanterns of moonlit leaves.

I won't mourn the loss
but fill all the void
with paper and ink.

gulls cawed, so loud their calls
echoed off the cliffs behind us, a ghost flock answering,
though not shrill enough to rouse us

they flew crisscross patterns
and dove into the surf, but not one landed
on the carrion strewn across the sands

not like the vultures of my youth,
ravenous black hawks that began their devouring
at the first scent of death, or a moment before

no, these creatures merely called
to one another, a curious conversing
about the carnage below

perhaps their strange song
our dirge, as they swooped to and fro, wings
slicing currents carrying our souls

Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944

we are angels
with cathedrals,
prophets, and poems
to prove it  

other species  
are not endowed
with such gifts:

the ceiling
of the Sistine Chapel
the pyramids, loosing
the bounds of earth
to walk on a moon...
psychoanalysis
the atomic bomb
Anthrax, dioxin
and gunfire
gunfire  

we are maggots
on rotting fruit, sated now
looking for a place to hop off,
to escape before the fruit falls fast  
to the ground

before the oceans rise
and the skies fill with ash
surely we can fly away

but we are wingless
angels, killer angels  
killer angels

dry drunk son,
sallow of complexion
victim at heart
nothing
ever his fault
disdains
flushes his family
away

daughter
mother of two
enables the addict
the shooter husband
every time
the poor thing he is
every time
and he still gets to
call the shots!

and she flushes the family
away as well

throws their love in the street


and the eight year old
granddaughter
and the three year old
boy

forage
climb the refrigerator
leaving footprints
literally
live in chaos
and filth
codependent
on the addict

and the family's flushed away

their love thrown in the street

and it's all about the addicts
and it's all about the addicts
and it's all about the addicts
and it's all about the addicts
and it's all about the addicts
and it's all about the addicts

nothing is ever their fault

and the family's flushed away

their love thrown  in the street

and the children

what of them.......

what of them.......

what of them.......

cj 2016

Watching...
The night
enter a fresh new realm.
The same day is cast in different hue...
Vibrance in colours dissipate...
Siphoned,
consumed by the dark.

Watching...
And feeling my presence
blend into nothingness.
This night reeks of
blatant nonchalance.
Careless shadows stretch and dance
as I wrestle with my vision
to determine mindless silhouettes.

Watching...
The trailing taillights
of nocturnal traffic.
In my city that never sleeps.
They simply disappear into the dark
with each tick of the hand.

Watching...
The half moon,
eaten away by the void.
Minutes elapse into eternity.
And seconds beat hard
upon my bastion of hope.

Watching...*
The ground
that lay quiet before me.
This earth that bears my weight...
This earth that has my shadow
shackled to my feet...
Offers nothing but quiet solace...
Fighting to calm the storm
in my head.

She is a starry eyed, moonstruck wonder,
Heart full of hope, pocket full of thunder,
She bows her head, still blushing red,
Lies trembling upon his altar.
She's a faery sparkled, sunshine lover,
Who sought these dragon's wings for cover,
A barefoot lass, hair all a mess,
Though halo bent, still shines above her.
Her body sings like ancient winds,
Thus when she dreams, sees unseen things,
Goes surfing waves of earthly pains,
Her soul, an open harbour.
Though scarred and stained, her strength she's gained,
So takes the vow: Love shall remain;
'Tis why her Angels guard her.

It's like being stuck in a forest with all you need
We are in isolation
And the say isolation is the worst kind of punishment

~ I love the way you punish me ~

I had planned on going out
To drink a little too much
To bury sense and love
Between the legs of lust and sin
I stopped at the bookstore
In between home and my night of debauchery
Drinking money in my wallet
Words in my hand

I nearly cried

Reminded of the injustice
That spreads its ugly colors
Throughout our human history
Just the thought of what so many had no choice but to endure
Just to survive day to day
The lives lost to hate and ignorance
Mothers grieving their children
Killed over nothing other than their color
The death toll only outweighed by the  burning blood of racism
Poets writing greater truths than lawmakers and politicians
Words filled with more love and compassion
Than the man wearing his false robes of god
Preaching condemnation while committing crimes against our children
Our ***** history at our fingertips
Sitting on the shelf
So much horror
So many more disgusting stories crammed and pressed between the pages
Not enough time in one life to read it all
My heart not big enough to forgive it all
And the only thing more haunting than the past
As I sit and look over these books
These lives
These minds
These hearts
Pages bleeding with pain and grief
As I look out the window on the second floor
Of this store

I nearly cry again

I see a world still stained
Still betrayed by hate
I see a world that hasn't
******* changed

I leave the store
My wallet empty
My heart heavy
Tears crawling out
And I drive back home