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David W Jones Jan 2014
Six times I recounted
that day, it all
fell from the sky.

Our spirits were once covered
within the wings of angels;
My body burned, from
the touch of eternal light.

Six ways I counted the
Deceptions, hiding behind
her eyes.

Naked, exposed upon the bed of love
She touched my soul with the brand
of a fool. Strength left my body;
Wisdom vacated my mind.

Six days I spent buried
Beneath unholy ground.

Laughter from the halls of Heaven, ridicule
breathing out sweet vapors from the lips of
the Divine. She cast me out of paradise
By a single word.
David W Jones Oct 2013

Seductive lips speaking
Sensual truth
Tongues mingle
Tasting savory forgiveness

Silhouettes exposed
Grudges disrobed
Falling around the ankles

Nerves captivated along the spine
By the touch of compassion
Beads of perspiration
Dripping adulation

Closely guarded secrets
Bodies covered
From the dust of tumbling tension
Souls shaken
From the weight of conversation

Intimacy reveals
Unexplored regions
Between mind and soul

Tonight nothing remains
Except indulgence
Believing the sun
Will never rise
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the sixth of seven days for him to stare into the abyss of abandoned memories. Seeing her eyes staring back at him stirring the pain in his soul. Spirits of the past ascend from the void singing songs of antagonism. Recalling the moments that provoke his anger and summon his anguish.

He decides to satisfy the spirits of torment. A sacrifice. Reaching within the thorns of his body he removes his pride and lays it upon an altar of forgiveness. Letting go of all that he was and silencing his demons.

The sixth of seven days is now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the fifth of seven days for him to see the flames of those he loved extinguished becoming vapors in the wind. The unexpected storm carries away the souls of so many he loved, knew and connected. Standing at the sites of engraved eulogies, he grieves; not just for the loss but also for the opportunities missed.

Loneliness conceived from the womb of absence.

Life itself now a dying breed.

He grieves until the end of the falling rain.

The fifth of seven days is now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the second of seven days for him to pursue the affection of woman he has never known yet forever seen. Finding delight in the notion of interest with an undistorted persona that is his own. Relief that appearance is unimportant compared to that which resides within a blemished shell. To behold love within the unseen.

He shares his time revealing the secrets of his soul. Expressing emotional depth no one else could comprehend. His heart bleeding poetic verses transfusing the emptiness of existence with companionship. The bitter sweet taste of love confuses his senses getting his emotions twisted.

Souls entwined on the fragile plain of romance.

The second of seven days is now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the first of seven days for him to ponder the effect of past events on the present moment.  Dressed in dark colors inconspicuous as his wardrobe mimics the morning sky.  He places a finger to his mind, directing his thoughts to the decision that fate happens for a reason. A reason requiring keen insight from the divine to decipher its riddle disguised as purpose.

He stares towards the perennial peak of a hill and recalls the feeling of disappointment at his failed ambitions dictated by the imposing expectations implanted within his childhood.  His perception, now a broken compass, misguide his spirit through the fog of unsolicited opinions.  Decisions wavering in the gusts of a thousand voices.   Today becomes the younger twin of Yesterday both determined to clone their DNA upon Tomorrow.

Alone with his thoughts as his misery is unable to find the company it seeks.

The first of seven days is now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the third of seven days for him to propose an opportunity towards commitment that he recognizes and she fails to understand. Her past she could not deny. He offered sacred vows upon a bed of enchantment. Her present she could not agree. He offered his life in exchange for her honor.

She left with words unspoken.

Misty skies dim the sunlight and darken his eyes. His heart now absent from his body. His grief pours like torrential rain. He trails his fingers along the silhouette her absence provided.

Today becomes ordinary containing a choice to reconsider.

The third of seven days is now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty Ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the seventh of seven days for him ponder the last seven decades of his life. He studies the recollections kept logged within his cerebral diary, appraising the significance. Always learning, continuously evaluating and never mastering.

A journey seeking purpose, finding love, gaining rejection, surviving war, cherishing losses, and receiving forgiveness. Laying down upon his experiences, watching day fade slowly towards night. He receives a gentle kiss from the lips of Serenity as his soul is nestled in the ***** of Peace.

The seventh day provides a man rest and his days are now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
Twenty ticks and eleven tocks into a man’s day, the fourth of seven days for him to grieve the injustice shackled upon humanity. He grips war by the handle and strikes with irresistible force upon the once immovable object of hate. He finds himself guilty of hostilities for the sake of peace. He is offered no trial for his crimes of war.

He seeks admonishment for his guilt and is left with a confession upon his heart. His apologies fall silently into the void neither heard nor acknowledged. A single dove’s feather falls upon him carrying a single drop of spilled blood.

He tattoos on his skin a mark of shame.

The fourth of seven days is now complete.
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Oct 2014
listening to the wind
pushing rain against the glass;
voices crying out to me from
the darkness of my past.

thinking about the time
my heart lost its conviction;
when I was wishing for a cure
to this lonely affliction.

her arrival was unexpected
love at first sight;
she was the dream
that kept me up at night.

our kisses were mingled
with the taste of illusions;
our flesh dripping sweat
from the heat of confusion.

moments of passion led
to a place of discontent;
the fairy tale ended on
the bed of resentment.

our perceptions were lies
extinguishing the light;
her voice became silent
as she disappeared into the night.
David W Jones Oct 2013
The dark sky erases another
Sunset. Reflections of joy
Barely seen beneath the

He confused a nightmare with
An opportunity;
Never recognizing the signs,
Too busy
Chasing the dream.

Touched by falling feathers
From the Angels abandoning
His presence. Oblivious
Towards the path stopping
At the cliff’s edge.

Stepping away;
His emotions left to fall.
Touched by the woman
He once scorned. She opens
Her arms, accepting his infinite despair.

All the pain he hid behind
The walls she took, into her *****;
Helping him cleanse his weeping
David W Jones Dec 2011
He buries his heart
Beneath a bed of broken
Thorns feeling the autumn
Breeze becoming
Winter winds along a
Darkened sky carrying tiny
Shards of reality along his
Emotions slicing the pages
From his mind’s diary made
Cynical by the freezing
December night as the year
Enters another twilight pressing
Against his recollections of her
Promise signed “Always & Forever
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Oct 2013
Midnight cravings for coffee
stimulating sedated thoughts;
emotions deposited in the ink
of a pen.

Tick marks dotted on crinkled
paper; moments recounted, too
many to comprehend. ****** abstracts
and crooked lines.

I lived a sheltered life,
Three square meals a day;
Believing the devil waited for me
Under my bed.

Consanguinity within the dramatic pool;
the kiss of a mermaid left the taste
of sour grapes.

I thought I knew love,
realizing that the feeling
was but an echo of the loneliness
I did not recognize.

Emptiness led my heart to vows;
a vow of silence was appropriate.
Experience leads me to confusion;
I am left choking on complexity.

The sunrise looks like the sunset;
all I see is indigo, a weird shade
for sleepy eyes.
David W Jones Jan 2014
I lie awake
In the darkness
Wondering if my thoughts are worth
the penny I was offered.

I lie waiting
For the light
Because I am too tired
To give up.
David W Jones Dec 2013
The end of our journey
on the horizon's center;
the last stop to this asylum
in the midst of winter.

Darlings of destitution painting
****** distractions on the latex;
the essence of ambition covered
within the toxic keepsakes.

Cold doors keeping out
the warmth of affections;
our bodies wrapped tightly
within the canvas of preconceptions.

The thumping of our minds
beneath the crumpling distress;
ideas illuminating our perilous
potential.  ****** beads of sweat falling
into the darkness.

Crazy notions spewing
all over the floor; the
filthy piles of wasted
time is growing.

Insanity within this circle
of trust; our dreams mislead us.
No windows to expose the sun as
we recline towards amnesia.
Goodbye 2013...
David W Jones May 2014
His heart embraces
Her longing affections
Creating an unspoken narrative
Upon a silent night

Their body language sets
The mood describing
A moment held within
Eternity with slumber
avoided beneath the sheets

Tender cuddle connected
By yearning lips as their
Souls feel time traverse
Along the moonlight with
Heavy anticipation

Midnight whispers carry
A sensual tale between
Two lovers sharing
Romantic anecdotes that
Eclipse fairy tales and
Fantasies granting a
Night of inhibition
Within the bliss
Of their bedtime story
David W Jones Oct 2013
Nothing is as it seems;

illusions glimmer

within the afternoon light.  


rolling cascades of fiction

beneath a tired brow.  



heartbeats of folly

to fill the emptiness.

Smiling now the mask

hiding this naked pain; the

brightness of feigned joy

illuminates this distinction

of a fool.
David W Jones Oct 2013
Broken pieces
of my shattered soul
gathered in my
shaking hands.

Another long
breathing in
cold air
filling my lungs.

Retreating behind
enclosed walls…
suffocating vulnerability.

Touching the unknown,
its misinterpretation;
to the silence…
David W Jones Oct 2013
Sometimes I sit and stare; delving deeply towards the point of destined fixation.  I stop at the edge, waiting for the moment to hollow out; imagining the embrace of silence.  

Sometimes I feel the pull of refuge, leading me by the hand to the subterranean level.  A finger, placed upon my lips, to prevent the waves of random thoughts from contaminating the cure; breathing…the pressures slowly release beneath the fathoms.
David W Jones Dec 2013
Time remembers what we have forgotten; those moments feigned a dream, our reality misbegotten.  We said “I love you” when we should have said” I’m lonely without you.”  My god, what were we thinking, impulses of our youth to pledge our demise wearing trinkets. The dos and do nots hanging beneath the expectations; emotions lodged within our throats, choking the communication.  The catastrophes unforeseen, at times expected; the burden to heavy, the pain and fire misdirected. We carry a desire to change; we find it difficult to give up our troubled ways.
David W Jones Oct 2013
A young woman spent
Many years behind a window
Guarding her fragility

Until one day

The glass breaks from
A single tear drop
Exposing her loneliness

As each day

Different faces pass by
The broken window stopping to
Gaze at the young woman’s appearance
Before continuing on their way

Some stay a moment just to
Say “hello” neither waiting
For her reply nor allowing
A chance for conversation

Yet everyday

She looks out towards
The world trapped behind the
Broken shards hoping that
Someone will stay awhile and
Become her friend
David W Jones Dec 2011
Sitting on a park bench
Could not help but notice
A paper bag pressed against
A garbage can like a beaten
Victim whose brown exterior judged
And sentenced harshly for its
Desire to survive in a world that
Deemed it unworthy for society
Instead its abused
Torn existence demeaned
For the purpose of pleasure
And then quickly discarded
Refusing to care about all
The good it carried inside
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2013
Monday morning, I am hoping these unlucky days are coming to an end if not then I hope the fates will grant me a reprieve.  A little over a week until Christmas and I am not ready; I am not accustomed to waiting until the eleventh hour to start and finish shopping but unfortunately situations from the last two-weeks have dictated this plight.  So many things happening internally and externally, I am losing track of time and the opportunities for social engagement.  The emotional scars keep reopening, the drizzle of crimson nightmares providing the scent of allure to my demons; my fears and frustrations clanging upon the anvil in my head.  

The winter solstice is approaching; it will be night soon and the sun is frightened.
David W Jones Sep 2014
Another year is subsiding;
I have lost track of time.  
The smell of despair fills the room.

Sleep is nothing but an illusion,
thoughts of "what is" and "what was"
scribbling on the walls.
So many once promised love; there was one
who offered something much deeper.

A beautiful connection,
deeply rooted beneath the surface of affection.  
The word "love" was never spoken;
the sentiment felt beyond measure.

It was my situation that opened my eyes
to reality; the fantasy of hope
angered my soul.

It was my hand that closed the shades
removing the light from view; finding
no comfort in the darkness.

Everyday, since that moment, I have
thought about you; the anonymous vocabulary
sent in a bottle, from time to time.

The occasional glance from the shadows,
watching you from the distance; wishing
you could be with me.
David W Jones Oct 2013
Days into decades;
emotions slipping among
jagged stones.

A hand-written
letter burning within

The screams of
déjà vu echoing
in these lonely halls.
David W Jones Oct 2013
I dream of sleep
with eyes wide open;
it’s always dark
in the morning.

Touching disparity
beneath reckless thoughts;
lines and dots

looks and tastes identical;
I am starving to death.
David W Jones Nov 2013
I sat at the table
staring at these meager provisions;
wondering how long the minuscule
pieces of optimism will last.

My body,
weakened by emptiness,
now suffering from anguish
as the early sunset ends
the day prematurely.

I weep within
the silence of darkness,
the memories are no longer
David W Jones Dec 2013
unlucky are the days; these
keys no longer open doors.
Pennies exchanged for emotions
on the sleeves.

loyalty poured unevenly;
sitting here forever
bewildered by the simplicity.

questions on the faces;
wind-chapped lips silenced
the song, lyrics removed
to unfamiliar places.

stains on the rug from
the colored wax, indiscreet;
lost imaginations beneath
these feet.
David W Jones Oct 2013
Beats echoed at night;
Spirit lifted from slumber.
She awakened me.
David W Jones Oct 2013
The lights keep flickering;
darkness reaching out between
the flashes of daydreams.
Memories damaged by perceptions,
left alone in this empty room.
David W Jones Apr 2012
From the beginning, and
To the end.

I feel your indignation towards
My existence; your displeasure towards
My presence.

The mockery of your embrace
Holding me tightly within
Your arms of despair.

Moral conceptions offended by
Your deliberate misbehavior.

Your kiss saturates my spirit with vexation,
Attempting to convert my heart with
Poison and bitterness.

We both want change for
Reasons we cannot agree; a scandal
That transgress Love’s institution.

I will neither yield to your disgrace
Nor entertain your dishonor.

Remove me from this circumstance, take away
The memories of your offensive actions.

With my last breath I plead,
Accept me for who I am please, just leave
Me alone.
Copyright David Jones 2012
David W Jones Oct 2013
The plot thickens; he played the game
so timid, so close to victory,
tasting a hint of defeat.
The game of his life,
trashed and trodden
beneath unexpected cowardice.
Jack Daniels slowly evaporating
within the cool glass; nerves
growing numb to personal sentiments
listening to insensitivity plea for attention.
Clinging to that moment,
promising something different;
feeling the heat of amber ***** eating away
the remains of expectations.
David W Jones Oct 2013
a pound of peanut butter
layered on a wheat thin

something to pass the time
cause the internet is down

another pound of peanut butter
tastes better right off the spoon
David W Jones Jan 2014
Lunacy scrapes
The shores
Riding the
Evening tides
David W Jones Nov 2013
A simple invitation,
written in prose,
fearful that the quiet voice
would disrupt the words;
the ambient light of candles
elevated their courting desires.

They tasted decadence
upon the plates,
flavors of the unexpected
were thoughtful and deliberate;
the night’s delights dripped with joy
despite the absence of the moon.

The candor of sweet desserts,
slices of memorable moments;
the pieces of lingering satisfaction
on their lips.

She felt the poet’s heart
and wanted to touch his soul.
David W Jones Sep 2014
My spirit held captive,
As I listened to the rain
reflections of an inhabitant
emotions speckled on the pane.

A night of contemplation,
soul-searching restlessness;
tormented by a raven,
reaching the point of emptiness.

Feeling the pull of your memoir
those pages cutting my skin;
your voice is a reservoir
consuming my mind again.

Your name was never forgotten,
your lips have left their mark;
desires twisted and knotted
your presence divisive and dark.

Not sure I want you
Residing in my personal space,
Touching my thoughts,
Removing the mask from my face.

Alone in this domicile,
a choice to reside
away from love that is hostile,
to live the way I decide.
David W Jones May 2014
Glimmering morning reflections,
Psychedelic memories along the crystal.
Listening to the melody of a Mourning Warbler;
Echoes from her song
Shatters the callous glass.
Pieces falling like snowflakes
Cutting away the misery.
David W Jones Nov 2013
Spending time chasing dreams in the dark;
whispering to one another about the things
we call “happiness”.

Checking our pockets for change
to buy hope and keep
our bellies full of joy;
injecting our minds with allusions
to dispel the horrors of our nightmares.

This is our drug
to cope with the fear of
loneliness in the night;
following the tracks to avoid
the slums that we must pass through.

“Love” was never a friend
just the trickster who stole
our moral decency;
the dealer of truth and lies.
David W Jones Oct 2013
They met out of mutual appreciation
towards their artistic expressions,
becoming slaves of free will;
incarcerated within their choices.

She wanted to be with him
to follow his footprints, no matter, wherever;
even if the journey led to Hell.

His fingerprints smudged deeply upon, her soul.

She said three words that left him devastated;
Her lips now covered with silence. Sitting in limbo
trying to make sense of it all.

A moonless night conceals the reasons.

She still writes about those moments;
delving into those times to reveal whatever
she missed about herself.

Changes flowing between life and death;
acuity erased by emotions. The long walk
along the path of understanding.

The images within her mind portray a song,
fading like forgotten lyrics.

She lingers upon the corner of exposed
intimacy; pricking her finger on the
point of fallacy.

Small drops of crimson nepotism
releasing clarity. The lessons
smeared within the inked blots
interpreted inconsistently.

She forgot the meaning of her poetry;
her passions defiled within the filthy
knowledge. Crying for days, it was all
she could do to remember.
David W Jones Oct 2013
The rapid procession of seasons;
the dripping beads of morning dew
upon the fall leaves.

The breath of Winter on my back;
the late evening shadows waiting
to taunt me.

Staring at the sunset; amber puffs sailing
across the indigo sky. The memories
hanging like stars, waiting to fall
within the night.
David W Jones Dec 2013
I've lost...
The meaning of delightful expression, vocabulary betrays my soul.
The way seemed so obvious, the journey towards the morning sky.
Though it rained everyday, we cared nonetheless;
lost within each other's adoration.

Poetry lied to my heart because
I believed epiphany's song.

I've lost...*
The words to express these sullied emotions;
time ends the way it began with tattered hopes
unraveling at the hem of her dress.
David W Jones Feb 2014
Waves washing gently
upon the shores;
cloudy printed sky.

I keep thinking
about her toes,
in the sand.

Dawn becoming dusk;
seeing the moonlight
on the sea.

She left me
anticipating our tomorrow,
along her footprints.
David W Jones Oct 2013
The first
shall be last;
early birds
choking on worms.

Our fallacy made
from lies; our
commitments made
from acrimony.

In darkness, we
hunt for something
palatable; collecting
the wages of sin.
David W Jones Nov 2013
Come inside
So that we may share
This moment

We can speak
About the superficial
To test the unwritten premise

We can explore
The deeper levels
Within our evening contemplation

We can say nothing
Letting our spirits interject
Beneath the sheets

Refusing to sleep
So we may remember
In the morning
David W Jones Dec 2011
Moments written
Upon tattered pages
Absorbing the last
Drops of ink
Her melancholy spirit
The threads of tomorrow
Along the edges
Hearing the words
From those
She loved whispering
Close your eyes
Refusing to wait
For twilight
Deciding to watch
The sun
Disappear within
The fading skies
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Sep 2013
We are strangers connected by the comfort of familiarity.  It’s peculiar how the inadvertent takes us to a complete circle.  That feeling of connection; that longing for a love we are not supposed to have.

Her face is nothing more than the image of a desired reflection; those eyes speaking the truth behind her smile.  Light and shadows confound the lines of time; I want to see her but reality denies my wish.  All we will ever have are conversations and the chisel of poetry to sculpt our imaginations.
David W Jones Jan 2014
Sunrise towards my mental reflection;
Contemplating where my journey is directed.
Lying in the sweat of broken slumber;
The days are short and unevenly numbered.
Living in the darkness; dying in the light.
Silenced in the morning; tormented in the night.
Tested by devils and beaten by saints;
Waiting for the promise of mercy and grace.
David W Jones Dec 2011
He draws open the shades
Of night letting in the light
Of day reveals a vacant space
In the corner of his soul

Loneliness flees at the
Touch of her hand upon
His shoulder

Overwhelmed by
Her beauty as it radiates
From within her spirit

Her mesmerizing intellect creates
Irrational behavior against
His intelligence slipping within
The breadth of euphoria

He contemplates a
Vast vocabulary to express
His overflowing emotions
None of which he deems

His throat parched unable
To utter his deepest sentiments
He reaches for her hand and
Places it upon his heart
Etching the word “forever
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Dec 2011
He draws open the shades
Of night letting in the light
Of day reveals a vacant space
In the corner of his soul

Loneliness flees at the
Touch of her hand upon
His shoulder

Overwhelmed by
Her beauty as it radiates
From within her spirit

Her mesmerizing intellect creates
Irrational behavior against
His intelligence slipping within
The breadth of euphoria

He contemplates a
Vast vocabulary to express
His overflowing emotions
None of which he deems

His throat parched unable
To utter his deepest sentiments
He reaches for her hand and
Places it upon his heart
Etching the word “forever
Written by David W. Jones (1MereMortal) Copyright 2011©
David W Jones Mar 2014
I yield;
the metronome has lost
it’s pulse.

Too much time vested
in the unending complexity.

Expectations laid the foundation;
the checkered board confounding
our movements.

Maybe we were the wrong players;
maybe I never understood the rules.

Those moments never wasted
because the lessons unabated
revealed the weakness
in my strategy to love you.
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