Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
6.0k · Sep 2012
Ballot? What Ballot?
Emily Jones Sep 2012
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason,
Logical, radical movement
Trying for less invasive measures of medication
To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses
A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good
Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence,
Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change.

The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all
Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound
Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive
Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol
On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats.

Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud
Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils
Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience
Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery
The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product
Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate.
Whip lash.

Flick, flame, fumigating
Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ******* grace
Twitching with the need to take action
To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives
So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief
Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
In response to the Arkansas movement to get legalization of marijuana on the ballot, met with conservative group protest.
5.5k · Oct 2012
I know you.
Emily Jones Oct 2012
Clayton
How I know you
Paternal parenting
DNA infused
Carbon contribution, to my physique
Father

In everything
My skin, eyes toes,
Unfortunately; inside my mouth
Spitting plaster-walled
Copy-paste personality
The same

Intimately
Close-dangerously
Different
Me a bold-faced fraction of ill abated love
Something that didn't work out
Photocopy
Blond-blasphemy of useless flesh
Reminder of her
Mom

Enough!
Teeter tottering
Tip-Toe tangling opinion
Excuses
Words fermented
Rotting-rigor

I know you.
Slit-eyed palefaced ****** of bigot ideas
Bearing pronged poker
Clicking glinting-clawed finger fondling fake religion
Suppressing supplement thought

*******
God's love the good life
Living a life to be proud of
Excuse me!
For not being as I am "supposed" to be

Eatting rancid lies
Your reality relative
To kiss-*** preferred siblings
Who like the taste of ****
What you shovel

Hung on lipsucking harlot, hinged hip hung-over
Descending oppressidly upon willing wanton will of man
Letting cracked-cackled toothed
Field Gap-smile
Decide your next move

I know you
I see what you push into hidden corners
The bias, nasty film of your character
Under whitecollar shirttails
Citizen, Patriot
Americas American

I know you
Your oppression
Not new
As underhanded and seedy as it was
And still is

I know you
As much as I'd like not too.
4.2k · Sep 2012
The Fighter
Emily Jones Sep 2012
His fist scarred, beat-red fistful of intention
Rugged, crass unchiseled wonder wrapped in a gentle smile
A bear of a man, broad shouldered hulking bent
Stuffed-fluff heart tattooed with the echo of love
The times he grappled in sweaty- slick tangle of arms and drew blood blooming bright-crisp-apple-red upon white mat.

Beat, Beat, Beat, down
Tap, Tap, Tap, out
White knuckle-grasp uppercut
Full mount, disengage
Joint locked, feet hooked, Triangle hold
Submission.

The times he brought grown men to their knees, and humbled himself on his own
The times he never gave up and the times he gave in
To the fight
To the system
To the sweet draw of relief
The times he fought not for the thrill but to make it by
Rage hot-red facing the injustice of poverty
His steel spine riddled with the rust of life, the rust of reality
The corrosive sludge of hate, and words left unspoken.

Busted well-worn hands held soft smooth skin
Grooved fingers and velvet mouth
The scratch of bearded stubble, red-lined skin prickled with goose flesh, slick coated in sweat
A new fight, wrapped knuckles cushioned with the promise of forgiveness
Of acceptance a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

Broken hand, dreams stunted, depressed-mind-numbing
Lost in his own thought, out of the fight
Desperate to be back in the game mind and body
Envy-red, drawn to the fight of others
Soft smooth hands, short-small-painted nails calm bristled hair
Growling bear, baring teeth in silent-wounded pride
The time she bandaged pride, and encouraged humility
The times she scalded his senses the raw-red liquid fire of love
His shade in the heat of a red-blistered sun
Cooling, and igniting inspiration
The time she became a fight worth winning.
Emily Jones Aug 2015
The sweet heat washes down trembling limbs
Drenching in warm sweat
Trailing its languid touch down the face
Arms and finger tips
Dripping along the spine
Between the chest and across the hair of the scalp
Collecting on eyelashes and lips
Huffing in exertion
Choking on humidity
3.3k · Oct 2012
Aphrodite is but a Mule
Emily Jones Oct 2012
Eros
In my soul
Taking my breath
Thrumming in my heart

Eros
In your touch
The flitting-fondness of skin to skin
Sweat, beaded-trickle down
Salted flesh
Curly topped, flayed on satin

Eros
In your taste
The sweet tangle of tongue
Twisted-cheeky
Raspberried laughter

Eros
In the presence of your wit
The clever-confines of your mind
Depressed-displacement of your thought
Sophia

Eros
From one being to another
Thundering
Chaotic in my breast
Burning my throat
Scalding-stinging
Across the distance

Eros
In the silence of contentment
With arms wrapped
Smooth
Held close to the rhythm of your light
The hammering of blood

Pacing
Pitter
     Patter
        Sluggish-slowing
Lull of sleep
Eros, even in my dreams

Σε στιγμές σαν και αυτές που φέρνουν μου όλου του κόσμου για να γονατίσει
(In moments like these you bring my whole world to its knees.)
Eros- Greek word for passionate love, romantic love.
Sophia- Greek word for wisdom
2.5k · Nov 2012
Cereal
Emily Jones Nov 2012
Staring into a bowl, filled with fruited o's
I contemplate the cosmos

The world, my place in it.

And come to the conclusion that it will move on

Prosper or not prosper based on determined and undetermined factors

And even this bowl of cereal is a factor to that means

Soon I grow tired of this expansive thought

And decide what the hell

Its only cereal....
Deep thoughts after lecture, and all the ***** I gave finally caved and the cereal became enjoyable. Now if a plan crashes, strange weather patterns arise, and an important figure is killed, know that was some **** good cereal. lol
2.4k · Dec 2013
Martyr
Emily Jones Dec 2013
They say it's the distance that kills the flame
Puff sizzle and pop
The dying ember of love screaming its last breath
To the stars
The moon

Heavens ears are muted
These wailing screeching tryst
Happen daily
Yearly
The product of love that laid to close
Curdling like sour milk in the jealous heart
Burning like rancid acid
Chinese water torture to the brain
Maddening mundanity to fill the void of meaning
Like monkeys their minds seek to dull it's own screams
Love left rotting

Stinking in the distance that dragged it further spreading the filth
But the distance isn't the deceiver at least one can see the evidence of betrayal
Before it sneaks behind
And stabs them with their own thoughts
Confuse them with their own feelings
And drag them under to feast on their own flesh

No distance doesn't ******
It is the heart that deceives
It is the heart that renders false reality
Blinds the eyes to its own pain
And tricks the tongue to speak
Where it has no place

It is the heart that is its own martyr
The godly victim
Whom's motive is selfish
To **** what wounds it
But it's justice is the death of itself

And these sheets held love
Whispered  melting
Scalding devotions
Held the iron hot to brand itself the dutiful
But in obligation left once more
Leaving blood fresh
The heart murdered once more
2.3k · Jan 2014
Frequency
Emily Jones Jan 2014
Covered feet on black clicking the time of walking stride
The fume of frozen gas sticking to my throat
The late winter leaves having stuck to guttered sidelines
Their huddled swaddled backs burdened with the soft shell of academia
I missed this place
As much as it is a sign of failure it also holds triumph

Where I found my mind when I thought the world
Was defined by a god long dead
That I was lost in a sea of faces
Who prayed, believed and spread faith
Like a soothing blanket
Their thoughts where not troubled
They didn't not question
They had hope
As false as I believed it to be

Even now as I watch them
Flocking to bus stop shelter
How they hold a happiness beneath their chilled skin
Glowing with some assurance I feel I'll never have
But I'm pushing for that feeling
That  place to belong
Somewhere between down to earth and too consumed with my study
But not quite there enough to fall into that group
That speaks academics but knows when to let go

But I can't let go
When it is a matter to the existence of even having a soul
Why do others not feel this need to know what constitutes their own being
Why do I scream out silently to persons whom I had not hoped to know
For we all know that faces on the web are less real than those we see
Everyday
Every moment waiting for that moment they would reach out and cure the ache of loss

They slow the footfall pavement
When passing the stop
Hearing the lively chatter
The silly matters that don't haunt an old soul not looking trouble
As if their frequency vibrates on a different level
Fm to my Am
Where the genuine character of my self turns back on itself
And I become the shy
Confused not knowing how to approach them
So instead of humiliate I walk by
Singing my oldies and rhyming my rhyme
2.1k · Sep 2012
Accidental Journey
Emily Jones Sep 2012
Hips hunkered, rise to dapple-blue-toned dusty seat
Flush arch cheeky blush, excitement
Droll eye-glazing blue pupil toned in sleepy drug haze
Wind whipping wild air rushing through tempered glass
Wubing whoosh of wheeled blacktop pavement
Colored in eerie sunshade yellow
Lined, darting-flash gold white boundary crossing  
Tight knuckles, two hand hold
Blinking brown doe-eyed drowsy heavy lidded
Lolling head knocked back, head bash rested caressing faux blue
Ploom of dust
Dry-mouth open to catching fly’s
Or what’s left of dank-infused air
Quiet stillness

Blond hair crawling in busy wind,
Equally as gone
Thumping, jolting-momentum  
White line boundary lost, wheels ended grass
Ditching down, dirt slid slide
Floating weightless suspended-nightmare phase

Snapping,
Awake! Awake!
Screaming slotted terrified,
Panic! Painful-heart-wrecking rob breath
Nose dive, mounded metal drive inching closer
Hairs-breath away

Afraid, screaming ****** ****** inside sealed lips
Brown eyes; lid white
Hands upon steering slack, loose light
Asleep, peaceful in calamity
Unnatural shake and tumble
Nail dug bleeding ache
Skidding gravel, tree lined doom
A god not believed in a prayer ensued
Shaking, the calm unglued
“Baby, wake I beg you!”
Brown quick electric wide
Screaming, Screaming
“Oh my God! Why!”
Swerve snake skin peelout
Black lane orange in night
An almost death.
Midnight ride gone wrong.
1.9k · Jul 2015
Feelings over trivial things
Emily Jones Jul 2015
Its the three am wake up
The random shirt in the closet
Your lost phone cord
Spare change and pocket lint on my dresser
A book from last christmas
To make me feel like a lonely sock in the dryer
Abandoned like everything else
1.8k · Oct 2012
Star
Emily Jones Oct 2012
Seeing you is like watching an earth-moving force
A comet sent to wipe out the species of thought
Dinosaurs, crawling- viscous
The plains of my body, earth
The sky falling into itself
Spilling out the wonders of the heavens
The twinkling-diamond sharp plains of your wit
And the rich –muddy-mire of heart

Your body a magnet I gravitate
The pull of your skin,
Crushed -velvet fingers finding fixed hold
On dipped shoulder plains
A breath to warm wintered cheeks
Stretching the kiss of blushed smile
Completely surrounded embraced by the sun

Furnace, summer-heat
Growing, budding in the freshly -sweetened air of love
Flowering, the temple walls well taken care of
Watered with the wealth of your affection
Contented with you attention

Your gaze
Your praise
By everything that is you
This earthly temple humming and infused
Quaking with the intensity of acceptance
While continuing her latest obsession
Lonely earth, she who is unlike other cosmic forms

A blip in the eyes of some
But behold the brilliance of which she shines
Golden hair and sea green eye
Beneath the brilliance of her sun
By his gravity she has become
More beautiful by far
The earth and her heated star.
Emily Jones Sep 2018
Somewhere between four cans
Of sweet metallic madness
I found myself dancing
Lost in the murmuring wave of a rasta beat
Leaning into the bounce and jive of the jammin swing
That made me feel the beat the bellow the warp of time
Closing my eyes to the glowing halo drunk on the feel of rain against my lungs
I did not care
I did not worry
And for a moment I was in no hurry.
1.7k · Jul 2015
2Am Thoughts
Emily Jones Jul 2015
Your words were like nicotine
I drag through my lungs
Ash in my mouth
And stick to thoughts
Flicking out the embers of doubt
Burning away my worth
Filter gone yellow with poison
Creating dependence
Sick but addicting
1.5k · Dec 2012
Fast-Food Fishtale
Emily Jones Dec 2012
I lay here, like a fish long dead
Limp, lifeless
Glazed,
Gaping mouth tilted up towards the ceiling
Misted with the dew of sweat
And starting to smell

Fresh out of the pan
The vigor of my youth long
Departed
Regarded not as equal
But cannon fodder

For the masses
Infesting the grease smeared
Hub of hunger

Beta in a sea of sharks
Gilling a slow sluggish
Slop

Thank god, this bed is where I have longed to be all night long.
1.4k · Nov 2012
Decay
Emily Jones Nov 2012
Do you want to know why I can't sleep at night?
Why every time I think of you I choke on my own breath?
Why I want to shake you, kick, and scream, untill you see this grated pain that I live with?
It is the love I have gifted to you
And it is dieing
A slow and merciless deth

Slow rotting in its own chest
The metal teeth of your lies no longer comfort it
No longer pacified the beast that hungers for more
The things you promised but stopped delivering
Blotted blue, a blood turned red as it falls
Having been starved of the nutrients that gives it vigor
The reciprocity of mutual  connection

The stale sickly bile of backed up emotions poison me
Taint me
Ready to explode
Wanting not to hurt you by showing you what you have done

What you have bottled inside me
A love that could have moved mountains like it has done before
Killing me

Brutally with each day I wake
With each expectation you no longer fulfil
With each I love you from your lips
I die, the churning clog of ash
And the unforgiving malice
Of pretty words

Waiting for you to withdrawal
Even more
As if I were some old wound left to rot
Decay
Decompose there at your doorstep
To long forever a mummified homage to the hopeless
The loveless
The ******
1.4k · Oct 2013
Zombie
Emily Jones Oct 2013
The thrumming clunk of shocked wheels
Eat up road worn smooth by big junking beasts
Smoking up crisp air
Hungry for a taste of stunted freedom
The rush of wind the pained panels
Pulling a mass of curls with sticky cold fingers
Raking across my scalp

Shaking in the silence
In wake of thought
The bass drum barking out a numbing melody
Sliding like thin blade into the back of my mind
Enhancing melodramatic mood
Touching my tender heart

Fresh from the lash of lonely
Bludgeoned by the deadpan distance between
My soul
Snack sized bit of flesh clinging to the slick walls  
Of reason
Hammering in my chest
Still riddled with the mark of your claiming
The imprint of my nails still bleeding
In refusal

But claim it you did
Snatched it up out of my chest
Trailing arteries and the copper stench of blood
Empty cavity
Filling up with dreams and the sweet taste of your breath
Leeching into my limbs and whispering love into my being

But this road is ceaseless
No matter how many times I visit
That long stretch of highway
Promising me  the Spector of your memory
The ghost of your touch
Warmth of love
Acceptance
Renewal of my existence

The green glint of freeway sign
Showing me where I would have found you
Down that dirt road
Swing hair pin turns hearing your laughter as it chases me closer to where you should be
Were you will always belong
Where I could have found you had life been kind

Your savage dissection of my soul keeps me yearning
Reaching out and grasping my independence hostage
Where you have become a necessity to whom I am
What I am
And who I will be
Hinges on your well being

Fading into nothing
Where I am defined by you
My angularity is tethered down
But the road yields no answer
Only the Spector
The sad shadow of memories that refuse to fade
Die instead of rotting
At least with death it can be buried
Living with the death of my heart
A tragedy I would not allow to part
1.3k · Sep 2012
Envy
Emily Jones Sep 2012
It is still warm, the place where you had laid,
Still filled with the lingering blush of life and gifted with your smell,
Something that is so completely yours that sometimes if I close my eyes I can pretend you had never left,
I can pretend that for another moment you were mine.
That I didnt have to return you to the world where others also loved you,
Where there are other pieces that fit your puzzle of life,
Different kinds of love, not subtracted from your character but rather a part of who you are,
Family.
Sometimes in these moments with your scent still in the air and the room full of your presense, I become selfish for your love alone,
Almost envious of those whom get to experience you an all your greatness,
All the myrid of things that make you the beautiful person that you are.
But then when all of the envy, and selfish thoughts have run their course like all thoughts do,
I remember all the things we do,
What brought your scent to linger in a cooling bed,
What allowed your presense to fill my space,
And I no longer feel the loss of you so strong,
Because not long before, you where in my arms,
As you sure are to be again when the chill of my loneliness begins again.
An older poem, from a younger me.
1.3k · Dec 2012
Soar
Emily Jones Dec 2012
Its all clicking
Like cards in wheel spoke, the whisper of childhood
Broad sun on shouldered back
As I watch
You

With you cheeky smile
Once more bright, rose-framing white walled ivory
The glinting glimmer of glee
In chocolate spun pools
Floating in the renewed plane of dreams

I had always thought brown a rather dull color
A simple thing
Reminiscent of dirt, and the color of bark
Everyone had it
A color I thought so overused
Like God had run out of all the good colors
Brown was what was left

But you
Yes
You
The one whom sprung it seemed
Right of the very air
Pouncing into my life like a cat
Well versed in the hunt
You trapped me
Snared me
When I wasn't aware I was wanting to be caught

And ate up
My heart
Devoured my intellect
And left me craving for more

So I smiled
Seeing you laugh
Watching you get better
Watching you pull yourself out of the muck
The poison that had kept you drugged and away from me

Little Bird was pleased
Wanting to sing high praises to the heavens
And to any of the Gods
That would hear her joy
All of the creators would hear
My lamentations

Feel my world clicking
Like a joint
The setting of a broke limb
The resurrection of my figurative faith

The flow of my psyche'
Is restored
As I set back and watch the hawk finally soar.
A partner poem to the another poem titled little bird.
1.3k · Nov 2012
Over-infatuation
Emily Jones Nov 2012
How I miss it
The taste of tequila
Warm
Acidic
Slithering down the back of my throat
Blooming hot in my limbs,

Reaching each fingertip
Numbing
Bubbly sprinkle font
Shrouding my brain
In happy thought
Carefree wistful abandon


The burning choke
Of refer flower
Swaying my body to the
Rhythm
   Of life
      THIS MOMENT
   His taste
The beat of his drum

Thumping
  Thumping
      Pounding
Madness
So caught up in him
I no longer am

Hooked
Shared
With his cosmic love

Submerged in subs trance
Lost to the essecence of the right now
Def to the whispers of tomorrow
In this moment I
Exist

As I have longed to
To just be
Me
Carefree
Floating on Cloud 12
Because Cloud 9 is full of want to be's
Ignoring the rancid truth of reality

Lost to it
Within it
Attention held by one and many
The shuttering, shake of atmosphere

His breathe the back of neck chill
Goose flesh intensity
Tangled in sensation
Over-infatuation.
1.3k · Oct 2012
Fides’ Betrayal
Emily Jones Oct 2012
Miseo
Something I had never thought I'd feel
Towards you
Against you
The other side of my coin

Miseo
In the depth of my heart
My thoughts
Burning up the back of my throat
Stinging-tainted
Raw

Miseo
Whispered
Echoing in my Psyche
Slighted where I never thought I could be
My friend

Miseo
In the softest part
Tender, needy
Pathetically -gullible

Miseo
To you who were suppose to hold me
When the world fell down
Shattered
And buried me
When love faltered
And I am at my loneliest

Thelo
How I had hoped
    Prayed
I who never believed in much
   That you were true

That you were something special
    A treasure worth keeping
Not marked up-overpriced trash
   Like the rest of the world



Miseo
The part of me
Longing
For you
Miseo-Greek word for hate or act of hating
Thelo-Greek word for want or wanting, willingness
Psyche-Greek word for soul
Fides-Greek god of trust
1.2k · Nov 2012
A Dream
Emily Jones Nov 2012
It came like a sudden darkness, storming up and snuffing out the already fading light of dawn,
When I found myself floating, above the ground suspended on the backs of blue clouds that kissed the purple sky like a clinging lover
Chasing the movement of birds before my eyes I turned to stare down at the blackness beneath my toxic cloud of color, at the puke green sea covered in the orange foam of soda where what looked like the remnants of my breakfast that morning road the frothy waves.

Pink,
Pink
Pepto-Bismol stained whales attacked the early air blowing bubbles filled with what looked like Oreo cream screaming happily the music of contentment
A cry a loud mewling filled the acid induced happiness of the moment, yowling agonizingly, as if possessed by the spirit of pain itself.
Thumping, Screeching clash and the ***** of nails had me blinking away from my floating tea party within the sky and looking rather questionably to the hunky dream boat pouring me a fresh glass of tea,
His smile plastered by the very gods themselves didn't waver, and in my dreamlike stupor I thought nothing of it
But the terrified yowling, hissing, strange purr-mewl didn't stop.

The sky no longer a pleasant purple faded to a nasty shade of plum conjuring two disembodied chillingly green slated eyes
Frantic with irrational fear I panicked falling off my blue cloud to plummet towards the angry green sea below
Falling, Falling ever faster staring up at the sinister glowing ambient green eyes, whilst hearing that terrifying screeching yowl, from the Cheshire maw
Slamming awake with the tingling sensation of a ghostly belly flop, I find myself still staring up at those eerie green eyes.

This time surrounded by a flowing mane of toffee fur and speckled with tan zigzagging stripes of inky black,
Buddy, with his demanding meow of attention, insistently pawing my forehead with the command of a gentle rub,
Plucking my wings, and crippling me with a cuteness that only he can have.
A silly poem about a lovable cat and what he interrupts on a daily basis.
1.2k · Dec 2013
A Christmas funk
Emily Jones Dec 2013
I have lost it
That wonder that seasons bring
The merriment of Santa hats and childish elven ears
Jack knifing into the harder edge of happy
Where humor lies in irony
And frosts numb the grinching bitter pill that is my
Reality

The sleigh bells ringing
The Christmas story pinching pennies
Across the retail maw that is a nation
I tend to feel like that man haunted by the ghosts of Christmas past
Where I felt cherished as a child does when they know they are loved
Not used like meat flesh to thwart the hungry mob of customers
Whom think me less human
For working a dead job

But even I whom spits in the face of too sweet liars
Could not help but smile
When bright eyed children
Gaze in awe
That fat red man and silver beard
This old gaffer could not help but cheer
When little girls get earrings for the first time
And boys conquer driveways with plastic tires

And even more
For I know that despite my humbug
And all my ******* jeers
He will open that door
And I like a child will stare in awe
When my love comes home for Christmas
The one thing I have wanted
Maybe I had been good after all!
1.1k · Nov 2013
I am young but old.
Emily Jones Nov 2013
I am young but old
Not chasing the singing dragon out into the night
Dumping the dragging lull of liquor into my being
Like it will fill the cracks in my psyche
Thwart the emerging of my being like some slick spector in the recess of my mind
Gobbling up my intellect one atom at a time

Relevant only to the tantilzing beat of the bass
The ghetto melody making me elated to the fact that
A white hick hippy want-to-be can never be a ****
I am young
With the knowledge that time is in my favor
Wild wanton ways of youth touch my limbs with excitement
Too much drugs and drunkin dancing in the streets of small time city lights

Where I float on the blissful bubbling blunders of slurred words
And harmless touching that we all know means more than the numbing
Fuzzy fingers of inhibitors want us to believe
I am young

But I grow old
With the acheing feel of gritty mornings
Class time drool-drolling onward towards the final accumulation
Of my efforts
How the liberation of my mind feels fresh and shiney
But at once I feel a regress into old thoughts old beliefs and the worn out mentality of those older
I am old

In that my soul longs for the love that it is denied
Beaten down by the distance that holds it hostage
My tendancy to find rust and petinal signs of age beautiful
Long talks with my mother give me joy
I am old
In that I taste the test of time and see wonder in the generations past
Hoping for the sweet lull of a good nights sleep

Feeling and emoting a progressive approach to a dieing dicotomy
Loving
  Hating
   Saddended by things that will never change
I am growing receeding and more importantly changing
Looking to renew the implications of the word normal
But above all the old
The young, fresh and vibrant
I will forever more be
And always be me.
1.1k · Mar 2015
Gods and Sheep
Emily Jones Mar 2015
The world is ruled by false Gods
Shouting their rage and thunder, spitting on the benevolent their false promise
False faces
False forms, beliefs and reassurance
The morphing specter
Preening the pomp and posture
Their glittering smiles, shining like the brightest star in the din
Pervading the smell of sweetness that hides the rot
That gagging stench its own perfume

The glinting fur on grinning mouth
Blinking teeth the yellow gum and sharp lines
Feeding the fat lies to the waiting sheep mouth
Rearing the sheep flank to slaughter
Shearing the black fur to weave and contort
So even the aware are complacent and meek
Moon blinked to the chaos and terror that flows in the red blood font

Grinning slowly, straightening the sports coat collar
Looking forever the faithful dog of the people
While picking the flesh of lamb from hungry teeth.
1.0k · Apr 2015
I Am Man
Emily Jones Apr 2015
If all I am is man
Then I want the world in my hands
I want the right to speak with words that echo
I want to posses the same rights of work, status
And objectify others to meet my own selfish needs
That when I die my spouse dies with me for they are worth nothing without me
May they bind their feet to satisfy my need to provide,  support because they are nothing but an ornament to my state
Let me abuse them with words and hand to meet my every demand
All that they are is mine
For I am man
A victim to my own sick pride.
Response to women who are oppressed around the world. Victims to those who are meant to love them.
1.0k · Jul 2015
Closets and Hangers
Emily Jones Jul 2015
We are an echo of our past
Like an empty hanger in the closet
All bare and cold
Memory serves as the foundation to something beautiful
As long as those shoulders
Bare something new.
And our closet doesn’t stay empty but rather collects a rainbow of hues.
983 · Sep 2012
Regret
Emily Jones Sep 2012
It twists deeper with an aching draw that only it can bring
A sharp breath taking lunge into the deepest part of the heart
The place were only the things that matter most are stored
How it eats, like rust staining a priceless metal it tears away the very flesh
Sinking deeper and deeper still into the inner most part oneself
Burrowing it's way close, to munch away a what is left of self when all defenses are lost
To drown itself in tears and gore itself on the raw intensity of anguish
Love so intense that when it's source is no longer there to fill the fountain
It starts to sink into its host killing it softy, 
Choking on regret.
969 · Dec 2013
Dissolved into Fire
Emily Jones Dec 2013
I see fire
Inside your soul
The ache of distances
Bleeding passion into movement
The wide eyed terror of not
Being there
To see you wake
To share the shaking agony of lonely
Longing to taste your breath

The night burns with the smolder
Of your love
Raw skin
Relishing the intensity of devotion
Of lost time
Shaking on the afterglow of starlight
Disolving me once more
Glazed eyed and clinging
Clenching the stuttering maddness that has possessed my heart.
Only to have you fall

Leaving you behind
The night chokes my breath
And I drown in the wake of fear

Breaking heart to the shadow of chilled sheets
****** to dream of love
To hear the tinkling laughter of memory
Where you walk
Standing in all your glory arms open
Lips cracking that ****** cocky smile
That brings me to my knees

I fall into the flame
Of resentment
I hate you
Just a little in your ability
To smite me with love
To shake me down to the echoing void
Where all I feel is the loss of you
It eats away the corner of my sanity

******
I can't think without the your image
Name or memory
Touching the most intimate integral parts
The bits that are hidden from the main line thought process
You infect me with love
And hang me

With my own hands on the despair of absence
Where I would do anything
Say anything
Take anything
To touch
Hear
Or be
Where you are.

You wreck me
Running headlong
Into the wall
950 · Nov 2013
Untitled
Emily Jones Nov 2013
I follow you like an obsession
Seeing your life from the outside
Noting the smiles that frequent your face
The contentment of yourself in that space
I no longer see that disturbed longing to be free of that place
That backwater town that has no place for me in it
No future
Besides a deadpan existance leading its citizens astray or
Contenting them with a simple life

You have those who love you
Genuine friends and you seem to find a way to be busy
Find enjoyment in that simple existance
Not seeking out the exoteric meanings of life
Re-emerging back into that mentality of everyday people
Happy with just being in the moment in time
Devoid of that driving passion to find meaning in this life
To understand the worlds complexities and learn the beauty that is humanity

The vision I have escribed to myself to seek the truth in this world
To see the nasty and feel a sense of calm in the face of our own self destruction
Feeling as if my mission drives and beliefs are becomeing coersive to your health
How do I connect with you anymore?
You who used to abore the simplicity of your upbringing

I see it now
As you talk to your brothers and sister
I try to communitcate experience your world
But I am an outsider to this realm

My words don't fit
And all eyes make me feel castrated
I don't speak as they do, I use words they don't understand
A language and understanding that they do not employ
Not saying that I am better than anyone of them
Because I know I am not
Humble to the fact
That they don't find those things worth doing
Worth any merit
Secular in their reasoning

I see you fit this mold
This world where I cannot speak
Without offending or offering explination
Leaving me mute,
Feeling outcasted
Dumb to the workings of their order.

But you are a camilion blending in
Taking that world as your own
Transforming before my eyes into someone
I don't know
Or would know if I had realised you were
Developing without me

It is subtle this changing
How the conversation gets more complex on my end
Reaching out for anything that will relate you back to me
My mind becoming a blockade
A boundary to you
Where I crave none

I feel you here in my being
Shifting changing
The face you show me smiling happy
Loved and no longer in need of me
Wondering when you will see this yourself
When this distance will become leagues
And you determine whether it is worth it to cross
949 · Sep 2013
Within
Emily Jones Sep 2013
Sometimes I feel it
Just on the edge of thought
Peeking over the tight grip of control
My fist clenching tighter
Hoping to deaden the noise
The doubt
Remorse
To keep a pleasant disposition

Avoiding offending
Trying at all cost to comprehend
To not step on toes
Careful
So careful
Daintily tip towing around reality

Stuffing the self so deep into itself
That reality becomes the cage
Society becomes its antagonist
Feeding it shallow lies and filth
Of a world so full of itself that
It chokes
Out the light of a free spirit
Inside my self I hide
I plot and wonder

Driving myself closer to insanity
Still believing everything is ok.
Shielding my resentment
Festering from within
933 · Jan 2017
Ode to the StarMan
Emily Jones Jan 2017
StarMan out in the great beyond
How you touched us all with your luminous song
The wondrous echos of your voice fades only in the presence of time
As the man who fell to earth
You left a mark
On each of our down trodden hearts
StarMan out in the great beyond
Always here and never gone.
In remembrance of David Bowie on the one year anniversary of his passing.
928 · Nov 2012
Longing
Emily Jones Nov 2012
I long for the tantalizing-turbulent taste of your being
The way you make love with the simple wordless-ness of action
The rhythmic motions of your body so close, an within mine
The sweat dripping slip of callused hands on my skin
How you SHOW me the words you speak
So often
So loudly
Quietly when we are alone
The love, I want to feel more that hear
Seeing they say is believing,

I want to
Touch, smoldering steady fire
That lingers in your heart
Not just rely
On the fallacy that
Words abide

But I haven't
Felt the burn of your desire
Or the subtle warmth of furnaced kiss
Nor have you "loved" me with
All the fierceness that I have
Come to depend on
The surety that alone would never change
When you would let me love you till the heat
Brought water spewing from smoldering eyes
How the redness of swollen lips lead to
Sweet words
On my tongue
My face
Communicating with the eyes alone.

I long for love
Long for the connection of
More than words
Having been lied to for a lifetime
Fed from a liers hand
Bitten to much to believe anything but what you show me
What you make me feel
Inspire me to do

And oh how I love you
You complete and utter manly mess
How I've tried to stand firm
On weak knees
Tiny shoulders aren't meant to hold the world
When knees fail
And the rock you should be
Is as feeble

How you bleed my heart
With the way you
Love me
Bleed it dry
A puddle I stand in
Daily
Waiting for you
Longing for you
To wake up
From whatever has taken you away from me

I long for you
Though you stand beside me
Close enough to touch
Smell
To reach
To touch your callused hands

And imagine what they felt like
To
A distant
Less drained
Me

Where I was happy
Where I was complete
Had not the other half
Of my soul, not but abandoned me.
897 · Jan 2014
If words could spell time
Emily Jones Jan 2014
I should tell time by the words spoken
That way when death came knocking at least we would have conversation
Choose scheme carefully for it could mean one um to close to middle age
Two  I loves you's from adulthood

Words would mean more than the method to maim
Slander the budding of free thinking mind
Or take light from a flicking candle
If time could be stunted by vocal notions
Glodal pops and humming lyrics
Then lovers would never die
And poets would fade into
The everyday mayhap the fickle trickle back into the ether

The quiet would be lovely
Emoting the stillness of nature birdsong would fill the silence as it was meant to
And the air would not be littered with the dank smell of spit and betrayal

You could ask me the weather by motion
Dance me into existence with the way your eyes spark and the grace of your smile
Such language would be peaceful
Dreaming a dream
So calming I might not
Wake
For there was nothing to curse me from it

The muted manner of being
May transcend the busy buzzing of the rat track motion
Squeeking out their horror and joy
Such silence
Such relief
If words could tell time
Forever in bliss I would be
886 · Nov 2012
Untitled
Emily Jones Nov 2012
I stood there mute
Words harnessed in my throat ragging against the cage of reason
But I could not hurt you
The way you have hurt me

The deep trenches of doubt
The bleeding **** of shame
And the liquid infection of your love

My love
And its mutated form
Eatting away at the insides of my mind
Heart a black mass of rotted feted meat

But I could not hurt you
With the words I wanted to scream
With the torement of my soul
The tearing of scarred
Lightly burned insides

I could not wound you
With the lash of my angered tongue
The righteous injustice I have felt
For my own sake

I could not make you anguish
Over love like I have done
Still do and will do
Until you decide you don't need me

Even with you standing
There on in the gravel lot
Breath a warm cloud
And eyes sincere
Questioning me

Asking me
What you have done wrong
What you deserved to know

But I could not hurt you
With the truth
With the pretty lies
Or with honest half's

So I said nothing
Breathed deep
And tried not to cry
Looking away
Off into the setting sun

I could not hurt you

Warm lips on forehead crown
Hands touching
A face drawn in reluctant tears
A chest
The pleated plaid of button down
Steady rhythm of heart

I could not hurt you

My unpredictable rock
Tearing me down
Building me up
Tripping my tongue
And trapping my thought

I could not hurt you
My weakest spot.
882 · Aug 2015
Second shift blues
Emily Jones Aug 2015
Sneakered feets skid the cheap wax floor
The screaming maddening muddled expectation of children echo unhappiness
Its a hot Saturday in retail hell
Where have a nice day meets a condecending flip off
And fake smiles still taste like caffine syrup
Over head lights flicker and bring the three o'clock head ache
Another day, five more hours
Until leaving
870 · Sep 2015
A unicorn without its horn
Emily Jones Sep 2015
I feel like a rare creature
Too difficult to catch
Prancing just outside of awareness
Staring at baited traps
Independent and beautiful
A rose among dandelions
With sharp wit and tact
I feel like a rare creature
From mythos and legend past
For as much attention it brings me
When no one believes I exist.
868 · Nov 2012
Tripartite soul: With love
Emily Jones Nov 2012
When reason, spirit, and appetite meet
There-in my soul you do greet
A complicated mass of intention
Whose sole purpose is the want of attention
A stingy, selfish thing it is
But I am human
Of man.

And we are as selfish as a creature can get
For when the balance of these forces tip
Chaos of the soul
Mans weakness of will
The weakness of willing mind
To want
To hold
Something for all time

But a man made of mortal flesh
Cannot hope to beget
A love that is as immortal as the Gods
A love that is beautiful for all time

Goodness, and beauty are what we seek
A soul without love
Miserable and full of deceit
Of despair
Of mindful rot
Flaking off in fleshing decay
A loving heart is not meant to end this way

It is meant to mourn over the loss of life
To love a man/woman with all its might
To cry
To care
To kiss the morning with lamentations
To hold onto the feelings of sensation

A loving heart, a soulful mind
Is meant to imagine love for all time
Meant to dream
Never despair
Like breathing without air

But alas all I can do is dream
To write of love
But a wounded heart doth know
That before the burn, the ache
Of raw flesh
Salted
Prolonged in suspended agony

That there was beauty
There was magic
In the darkness of the night there was joy
Laughter in the alignment of her soul

Where her love was not new
But right where it should be
In her arms
Wrapped up
Held so tightly
She never thought of falling through

But no longer can she claim
Mindful retention
She could fall apart
One wrongful infliction.
This poem is written with elements of Plato's tripartite soul, drawing for the most part a brief somewhat accurate depicton of some of his ideas, while keeping the ideology of what I was emoting very clear.
857 · Nov 2013
Bowtie's and Fob Watches
Emily Jones Nov 2013
Liken to the sun in the middle of my universe
You reach me across the expansion
Pulling me away from the edge
The teetering tower
Shaking, creaking
Whirring back and forth

Streaming like my consciousness into the void
That the self has become
But I had let you go
Like so many others before

You fall back into your life to live
While I wander out here
Existing
Devoid of the limitations that are set out by mortality
Dieing a deathless death

With each heart beat
That echo's
Passing me by I become
Godly
Always outside of the world I so long to be apart of
A physician of the soul
To a man with many faces, and his "Wibbly Wobbly Timey Whimey" device.
838 · Jan 2014
Back again
Emily Jones Jan 2014
There was something special about this space
Like the walls spoke a language
The eves telling little secrets of comfort
Making this empty space feel more like home
Than that cramped apartment

Backyard wonderland like a child
I felt like butterflies and fairies could
Jump and flitter between leaves
Or goblins hobbling
To dance magic dance
The winking of mismatched eyes
Charming me out to play

Or possibly it was the dusty smell of closets
The socks stealing gnomes
Creeping around plain sight
Stashing keys and pony tails

Something made my weirdness welcome
My childish heart
Bloomed brilliantly
As if this space had waited
Stuck on some barrier between reality
To take me back
And make this old soul
New
816 · Apr 2015
Untitled
Emily Jones Apr 2015
I've got my red dress on tonight
Dancing in the pale white light
Feeling the wub wubbing shiver against goose bump flesh

Driving down the night
Going about 99
Swaying that electric rhythmic catalyst beat
The smell of sweat and cigarettes floating on the stale dim air

Like magic my feet move to the silent song of youth
I am young
I am free
Dancing away to the tenor jubilee
791 · Oct 2012
Throb
Emily Jones Oct 2012
It comes in waves
Trimmers
Shaking my ribs
Rattling-loose bone
Surfing the surface of my thought
Making breath shallow

It stutters
In the rhythm of my heart
Pulling at tendons
Leeching at the life found therein
Sputtering-spindling
Thumping
Flat-line

The thought of you leaving
Killing me every time
Short expression, of what I fear the most.
785 · Jan 2014
Frustration: explosion
Emily Jones Jan 2014
Feeling has become the antithesis to my being
The tumbling thinking ridge of my sanity seems mute
When words stick in dry throat
And your jabbing lance of perverse reason
Stings worse than lemon juice in the freshly
Singed skin
Still pulsating with the abuse of forked tongue

I have become the offering to the supremacy
That is your wit
Oh how your horns shine bright and the malice of your ego
Glints like slimy limestone
In the cave in which you stash your better half
The one not spoiled by the sheltered mentality
Of which you claim to have no association

How can you presume to tell I whom in your best interest did such minor affront to your person
That I am wrong
For gods sake I bought ginger ale instead of soda
You act as though I have poisoned your dog and slapped your mother
Looking for something small to defuse and use as a weapon
**** that!

If my countenance is so appalling that you cannot see what innocent slight you believe me to have done
Was done in favor of you
Wanting to promote the bettering of your being
Because I care
Not that I think you a child or incapable of doing things yourself
But ****** it's my money if I want to buy turkey bacon instead of pig
Ill ******* do it!
It's still bacon but without the **** that is processed into it!

Moreover should you ever analyze  you're own disgrace
I want you to see what you blew up in my face
While I provide and make sure you have
All the pretty little commodities you wouldn't have
Your spoiled nature and childish wines
Just affirm to me how
Secular you are inside
That you cannot see the view point of others and skew love with control
New room mate situation, apparently I am a thirty year old woman in a twenty one year old body. Room mate asked for cherry doctor pepper excuse me when I thought ginger ale was better. That blew up in my face quickly. But you can't expect someone who is transitioning to a fully organic diet to buy you ******* when  they won't even buy it for themselves. That's like feeding wood chips to a dog, if you wot eat it then it's probably not good for ten either. Fin!
Emily Jones Aug 2016
The suns up I'm down again on that auto pilot drag
Running on the low hum of exhaustion
Class, homework, and work again the cyclical structure burned into the back of my retina
Eyes hanging in the ever state of caffeine compulsion
Falling the dead weight of a ten pound footfall
Were every moment is a count down to when I can get to sleep again.
740 · Nov 2012
Little bird
Emily Jones Nov 2012
I see you
Black/brown hair
The ivy green of your disturbed eyes
Walking
Further and further away from me
The void of time closing
Faster and faster still
So abrupt each change that I feel the draw of tension in my skull

The harsh rip of tendons in my heart
You were leaving
This time
For good

A two hour treacherous trip
To home were the rest of them flocked
Your roosting
And I could not follow

Little blue bird
With her short wings could not fly with the hawk
And his strong reaching wings
When her feet where tied to commitment

The shackles of responsibility
What was right for little blue was here
Where the sun shone and the gift of education lingered
But GOD how she wanted to follow him
Into the unknown
The bleakness
Just to not have to suffer the loss of her hawk

But what was waiting for him was a promise
The promise of a better life
Freedom from the ****** he had become accustom too
Freedom to flourish in a distinctly hawk way
To get better
To  soar high in the heavens and enjoy the wind
Without losing his mind in the process

You walk
Away from me
Into a brighter sun than
The  shade at my back
Casting your shadow backwards where it held me
In its phantom strength untill
It too faded out
And left me lonely
Completely incomplete
Untill you come
For me
Keening victoriously
In flight

Turning I walk back into the shade you left behind
Leaving blue feathers
Sounding out the clinking of chains
736 · Dec 2013
Untitled
Emily Jones Dec 2013
Waking is like that final breath before the plunge
Down deeper into the thick of possibility
Where I find the Nietzchian mastery
That mentality that dominates and conquers
Leaving behind the pitiful
Weaker modes of being
That sharp edge of nihilism that propagates
The negation of substantial purpose
And living becomes a series of tasks that are manageable
Not the overbearing jumbled cluster **** of modern man

How I dream of Walden
That escape to find existential meaning
That reverts me back to an independent self that relies on not man but nature
To derive sustenance
Long for that shack
In the middle of no where where the worry of the day is to feed myself
And to stare at the stars
Instead of work long hours and still have no freedom to see

But it is not probable that I will have an escape
For the planet is dying one tree at a time
And the ignorance of our species is making
My exodus a place worse than the suburb
At least there I don't witness the choking of innocent creatures on pollution
Gasping for air through lungs riddled with fume
And foaming on plastic by product

While I contribute no animosity towards my mother I participate by association
And feed the monster it's favorite treat
That sickly green paper
And a snack of penny meat

While my exceedingly more mechanical mind cranks the cogs tighter
And starts to rhyme
Filling in the line space and paying my dues I become another body
Thus a weapon to the corporate  move
717 · Jan 2013
Contemplating a freak-out.
Emily Jones Jan 2013
You watch me, with that charming Cheshire smile
Corners crinkling
The dimpled pleasure of intelligent company
Holding my breath
Hearing the richness of your baritoned laughter

I am surprised with the lax
Mannerism of your movement
How the hinges no longer creak
Echoing the stillness
Of your once prone psyche

Like magic
Some fantasy
Of child like wonder I am consumed
Consumed by the elegant freedom
Of your words
As if you had never fallen so far into your self
Lost your  down the rabbit hole
Playing poker with a madman

No you have seen
Madness
And come back whole
An aged man
Monsters both vanquished and not
Lurking
Inside a placid brown

How daintily you conduct your self
A bear
Civilized
Not a hair out of place
Not a twitch
Not a grumble
Or complaint

As if I was porcelain
Something bound to break
You handle me
Like a crumble cake
This old school tender
This utmost gentlemanly grace
This strangeness I now have to face

No turmoil
No storm for me to brace
I fear I am the one out of place
715 · Nov 2012
Indivdual
Emily Jones Nov 2012
How do I breathe?
When the heavy weight of responsibility chokes out the option of freedom
When the beat of life holds feet to pavement
Forcing the whimsical mind to rigor, and rhetoric.

How do I see?
When visions are bred to infect an open mind with social, and ethical nonsense
When the constrains of organized religion impose will but not unity
The bitter taste of opposition between brothers.

Why do I listen?
When words are fickle and meaningless
When their emotions are as fake as the smile they hide behind
The subliminal meanings behind the edited thoughts and vocalizations of man.

How do I speak?
When my words are interpreted falsly before understood
When words are many and ideas copy cat,
Distorted meaningless mash up of everyday mundane life

How do I be myself?
When the individual is as overrated as the society it lives in
When judgement comes first, and forgiveness never lasts
Existing to walk a path laid by another man

The road less traveled is the same road that harbors the footprints of millions
The road becoming a generalized idea for happiness
No longer molded to the steps, length, and size of a mans shoe
Where is the individual?

What constitutes personality?
When we are a product of our situations
And the people who direct them

How do I breathe?
When my lungs are owned from inside the womb.
706 · Jan 2014
Questioning
Emily Jones Jan 2014
Where do I go from here
Here being the limbos of choice
The frontal antagonism of option
Where each road looks similar spelling out the death of my heart
Stunting my passions and printing a mundane existence
Where I am burdened by a debt of responsibility
Bare scrapping change up off the pavement

Not filling willing minds with enlightenment joy and inner peace as I wish to be
My dreams as grand as the shining gold pillars of some ancient city
And wit as sharp as the Chinese whom discovered atomic theory much earlier than western thought had hoped

Where do I go from here
Do I take up refuge in some major that over times takes my mind into the spinning spiral of numbers
Crunching them down to bite sized bits so I don't choke on their rational?
How do i know  what is right
When I've found it and it has been deemed unworthy

How do I deny the self?
697 · Aug 2016
Student Life
Emily Jones Aug 2016
Its futile in this world it seems
To make a living
You have to dig yourself deeper into the pit
One loan at a time
One payment behind
One soul away from dying
Forever in debt to the government....
Such is the life of the student...
Emily Jones Jul 2015
You linger like yesterdays coffee
Staining the table
My breath and teeth
Leaking over onto my white shirt
Ruining it
For bleach isn't strong enough
Tide falls short
That faded white shirt
Stained
And despite the distortion
I still wear you to bed.
Next page