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djr Oct 2013
I take humour very seriously too.
I would expect nothing less from a bespectacled exception.
I would expect something more from a commuter.
We're taught to ride the trains, to expel our exhaustion.
There was no question.
Our dreams let spill our intentions.
The world is, the world is, love and life are deep.
Now sleep.
djr Mar 2013
hey you
keep dancing on the stars
'cause sometimes the night aches with silence
and tho' they twinkle when you bop 'em on the head
they burn
djr Jan 2013
I don’t need yo' ******* light
I can take care of that on my own
All I need is a candle and a wick
Keep that bulb **** outta my home

I don’t need no x-ray vision,
and I say that with gumption
***** you Scheele, I’ll stick with steel
So you know what? **** Tungsten
djr Oct 2012
in the hours of circulating darkness

meandering the streets of my mind
inside the walls of a staple
sadly not built in the realm of
satisfying fantasies.

believing that more remains
under the stars that house
infallible creatures determining the
lackluster era in which they
dwell cannot be all there is
in this undiscovered,
newly founded land of
gallant nonconformity

forever dancing a brilliant quiver
orbiting the undeniable
refuge devised if only
to be safe from the world for a
single day more
djr Jun 2012

“–eacher’s first time on our show, the preacher’s first time on public access. He’s here to talk to you about our history, and forgotten past. We welcome The Hermit of Marlowe, for our Sermon of the Week. All Rise.”

Influenced by the Worth of Words
I took a trip to write in France
I have come back to now inter
The Spirit of Romance:

There once were times of eloquence
When words were bought and sold in pence
Their quantity was so immense
But what have you all done?

Uphold the discourse, that you swore
‘though from her bitter grasp you tore
The beauty that you must abhor
Where has her meaning gone?

The time is nigh, you must repent
Begin your verbalized dissents
We gave words death in cent and tense
What happens at the dawn?

What does our future have in store?
A zeitgeist’s language unadorned
The pen is mightier than the sword,
But what about the gun?

djr Jun 2012

O there is a blessing in this gentle breeze
That of a childhood friend
returning for a gentle kiss on the cheek
O, sweet Mary, how did you bear the fruit of thy womb
so that the winds of change may spread it far
far and wide, far from a sparse city, so that
a pilgrim may find freedom.
Free as a bird, free from a bird, the sins of his past forgotten
Not forgotten, but atoned for, O Friend
What shall be my harbour, so that the winds
the winds may take me from this place,
through a clear stream of conscious reckoning,
of conscious wreckoning avoided
the heavy weight of a weary day, bears its fruit
bears it burden, a burden burthen of a now flightless bird
unable, disabled to the winds, to wind and soar
and now, upon this water, carried by the same winds
The earth is all before me, my journey is endless
Immortally mystified at its own liberty.
I remember this day, and the gentle zephyrs that brought me home
‘Twas Autumn, the waters were clear and placid
I remember this day, as the gentle vortex kissed my cheek, stroked my hair
a Vortex, that you, too, can have
for 3 Easy payments of $19.95, only on HSN
but that’s not all.

djr Jun 2012

“Yo yo yo, welcome back to the Def Poetry Slam. Comin’ up on da stage next we got two favorites who certainly ain’t a favorite of each other… na mean, na mean? They’re both hear reppin’ the London, so give a big round for ‘Lord Bye-Bye, and Johnny Cleats’…
Yeah, yeah. You guys know the rules… get to it. Bye-Bye, you’re startin’”

He walks in Beauty, like the dawn
whose bright and crimson sun alights
So all of those around him fawn
and follow him into the night
Now I know why my friend Trelawn
does envy him with all his might

Oh no, I, am so sorry,
My mind has come to function
all of this, you see, is me
And while he’s got some gumption
aesthetic he, but hungry, Keats
only talent for consumption

“Ohhhhh! No he didn’t, no he di-in’t! Yo Cleats, get some traction on this and tear him away.”

Standing aloof in giant ignorance,
staring down from atop an ivory stool
Your title, then, will keep them in your dance
and little else, you shallow-swimming fool

You see, My Lord, and that is all you pageant
as simple work as that does a flask
My words, instead, are all that I imagine
Of that, My Lord, mine is the hardest task

“Ohhh… well Round One’s gotta go to Bye-Bye, the audience has chosen, but… John? Johnny Boy? Hello? Where lies you, English Poet?… Can it be?… Can it be?… Ladies and Gentlemen… I think we have our first official **** in the ring. Must’ve been something we said. I guess it’s over. Bye-Bye… you got anything to say on your victory?”

So, we’ll go no more a roving
as our battle was cut short
Just as I thought you would be atoning
for your lack of literary tort

I’m classically trained, John Dear
and a weakness of the meek:
It’s that you have a deathly fear
and cannot survive critique

“That’s kinda cold, dude. You and I both kno–”

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