My body has become purpose

My mind numbed

Waiting is now a memory

Fear has forgotten to land on me

And grasp my flesh with it's piercing talons

I move through liquid

Everything slowed but my body

In one moment I will go through that door

10 seconds from death

I feel a sense of exhilaration

Not many marriages survive the death of a child
And now you and I
All old love aside
Are buried on that mound
Just as dead as he is
Just as cold and hard
We could not survive
And all we are now
Instead of you and I
Is just another statistic

In the absence of the sun
I can see the darkness in the human heart,
the silhouetted evil that lies within the soul

Within the confines of the misty gloom,
roam the fettered wraiths
of secret passion

Lustful, wanton desire, the id essential,
haunts the ethereal domain,
cloaked in shimmering gossamer veils

Half realized creatures of the dark
stalk with soundless echoes
the dim corridors of the soul

Unbound, unchained,
the foul, corrupt spirits of dark secret thoughts
wander freely

In the absence of the sun
I am afraid to close my eyes

That room that I write about
With the sad empty couch
And the chair filled with smiles
Really is in my house
The carpet stained with tears
And wine
Memories covering the walls
good and bad
All times gone by
Yes, that room
Really is in my house
Even the starry sky
That room that I live in
Have lived in
Is always
On my mind

She is my drug,
My addiction
She courses through my veins
I consume her
All night long
And forget all around me
I awake
And all I can think of,
Is her
I partake of her love,
I am a slave to it
Her passion,
Her scent
Consumes my thoughts
My passion drives her needle deeper
She punctures my vein
I am flooded with pleasure
She is my drug
She courses through my blood
All I want is her
She is my love
And my addiction
I cannot stop
I will imbibe
Until I die

She comes to me in my dreams

A lace wrapped wraith with golden hair

She runs carelessly

Through the mist shrouded  forest

of my dark unsettled sleep

A dream, a dream

And lost

I awake

And am left with the moist air

upon my bed

Damp and chilled I rise to my day

And all that is left

Is the memory of a dream

I got a gift of butter, now
Good butter it was claimed to be
I don't think it was from a cow
And if it was, it cowed me

A beard was growing on the stuff
A goatish beard without a doubt
Ah. it was sickly, sour and rough
With poison juices seeping out

Ah, it was slick. ah, it was grey
I don't think any goat produced it
I had to face it every day
Oh, how I wish I had refused it

The salts a thing it never knew
In fact I'm sure they never met
It sprouted spots of green and blue
It made me ill. I'm not right yet

'Twas made of grease and wax and fat
And substances too vile to utter
You may be sure that after that
Ive rather lost the taste for butter

Friend of my youth with many glories shared

Confidant of my soul and comfort in my arms

My ear hears the saddest thing of all

Where once beat that true heart

Where my head lay to sleep and peace

I hear hollow, thundering silence

So you say
While my sweat and blood
Feed the hungry ground
My broken bones
Toil behind the plow
So you say
While you lay
And feed your hunger
And cry about
Your pain
So you say
While I feed you
Yet another day
And watch you drive away
In the car
That I own

I weigh her pain against my love
I weigh my love against her pain
I cannot see her hurt, although she hurts.
I cannot see her suffer, although she suffers.
I love her with every fiber of my being.
I am lost my love as to what to do,
truly lost, for the first time in my life.
My instinct is to save you, protect you,
throw my body over you, for you are my love.
I cannot conceive harm to you
or the terrible things that happen with death.
My life ends with you.
My love ends with you.
I will **** you my sweet love if I must,
and you will **** me.

How can I rip poetry from my soul for you?
You are part of me and so is your poetry , rooted deep within my being
I cannot put that emotion into words
The best that I can do is tear out a raw, quivering, ****** lump of feeling
You are my rock, my strength, my laugh, my goodness, my caring,
All of the good things that I am
You are my love, immovable, everlasting
You are my security and protection
The roughness of you in my memory,the scent in my nostrils,
Your face always before my eyes
You are my father, even though you are not
You loved me
Even though you didn't have to
You are gone and God, the price I would pay
For one laugh or smile
One word of good cheer or uplifting
One story
Or one joke.
I love you

My only regret will be
If I have to leave her behind
That love
That I love more than myself
Leave her in the cold
Surrounded by the wolves
Who will have consumed me
While she cries over
My cold body
Gone hard to the touch
My love faded
With the last beating
Of my heart
Alone in this world
But I can't stop
I speak the truth
Because freedom
Burns in my veins
My heart pumps warrior blood
And I don't know
How
To not fight

You entertain me

with your smile

and your words

And I know in my soul

that you are alright.

Your music plays

late in the night

and I smile.

I know

that time

has done you well.

Now

I wait for you

to come again

and entertain me.

Somewhere within the dark dreams

I think that I knew what death was

Day was night and turned to sky

And the night was lit like fire

Sleep was awake and awake was a dream

And I was over and under water

I was haunted by the faces of all those I loved

Voices echoing down the dimming hallway

Seen yet gone in fading sense

Shadowed vision in cold and sweat

Burned and burned beneath the covers

And then the ride

In red and white

The hearse not yet

But low and long, oversized, with tires singing

Humming their song while he called my name over and over

Sirens sang too, not steel and drum

But sweet sirens, enticing

Swaying down the blocks

Stoplights passing, windows flashing

Slatted light blinking beneath dark buildings

To end, the end

In sleep

Rested sleep

No fever burning

Rested sleep to awake from death

From dreams

For tomorrow

There is nothing sadder in this world
Than to see a mother sobbing into a baby blanket
It doesn't matter how old he was
Or what he had become
It can never change a mother's love
She breaks my heart
Watching her cry
Sobbing, knowing that he is cold

Did he know
For one moment
At all
Among flash and bang
And flaring flame
That his soul
Had lost its tenuous
Hold that gripped
Upon the cliffs of life
Or did he just slide
As body falls
Into dark of night?

The scent of the pollen allured her, hanging in the still air of the morning. She would stop in her travel and visit each flower that she found. The precious nectar oozed from deep within the petals and she would thirstily drink at each one. She would gently land in the scented shade of each blossom and coax the precious nourishment from it. She never gorged, but rather drank from each flower what it was willing to give. Some were full and over ripe and bursting with the honeyed juice. Others had a smaller treasure, but she would drink lovingly of their gift leaving them an offering of pollen as a thanks. Her small, delicate tongue would gently lick and probe the recesses of the flower hunting the sweetness inside. The pollen on her coat would touch with the very deepest innards of the bloom and enter its very core. Her gift, as she suckled each part, was imparted into the scented womb of the softly petaled blossom. Each flower awaited her coming and spread wide it’s scented opening for her to enter. Their swollen pistils would be gorged with the potential for life and their gently glistening stamens would tempt her to feed on their sticky juices. The soft buzzing of her wings caressed the delicate parts of the fragrant blooms with a gentle breeze as she drank her sustenance. She sheltered in the colored shade of petals, hung round her like colored sheets, as she took what each one had to offer. When she was done she would move on to the next, slowly and deliberately milking the juice of life from each one. Every flower needed her and each one did what it could to tempt her in. Some threw heavy fragrance into the air so she could catch their scent while others bared their large and swollen glands so she could see their abundance. She traveled from bloom to bloom, sometimes enticed by the shaded shelter, and other times the sight of glistening pollen. But she fed on each one, large and small, and in each one she left her gift. The pollen that she carried would be imparted on each ***** stamen as she fed. The glistening end of the shaft was soft and sticky and waiting for the pollen that would carry on its life. While she fed each day, there was a gardener who tended to her plants. He took gentle care of them, weeding and pruning and tending to their needs. The flowers that she fed on were his future sustenance and he tended her as well. He would follow her sometimes through his garden and watch as she gently buzzed from plant to plant. She was used to his watchful eyes as he watched her drink from each bloom. He knew that his crop depended on her and he would peer into the bedding of petals as she caressed the sweetness from each one with her tongue. Her long tongue would probe deep into the recesses of the fragrant flower and find every drop of nectar. The gardener watched as she carried on the cycle of life for him and would wait for days to see the swollen fruits of her labor burgeoning from his plants. When she left each flower satisfied with their delicious treat, she would fly off to the next, not knowing that a seed would be swelling in the gorged pistil that she just left. And so it went as the bee buzzed her life away every day. The gardener would be there among his carefully tended crops, watching and waiting as she moved among the flowers. His gaze would follow her as she traveled through the foliage and landed amongst the blooms. Every day he would watch as she coaxed the sweet nectar from each one and left her gift in return.

"Resistance to tyranny is something that is as programmed into man as strongly as his propensity for oppression. Innately all of us know that we have certain rights that can only be removed by acquiescence or brute force.    For centuries philosophers have expounded the “natural rights” of man and their application within societies. Even those in prison know that they have certain rights and will begin to resist when their imprisonment becomes tyrannical. When a man becomes enslaved, he knows innately that he has the right to be free but that has been taken from him.   When our natural rights are eroded to the point of tyranny, resistance will invariably begin. Resistance ,and revolution also, are commonly misunderstood by many people. Most think of an armed struggle that involves bombs, bullets and war, but it is in fact far from that.  Resistance , as is freedom, is a thought, an idea without necessarily having a something to quantify it. Just because neither have a corporeal existence doesn’t mean that they are not there. When freedom is gone ,everyone knows it and when resistance begins it is just as obvious.     Resistance is a funny and fickle thing because it does things that are counter intuitive. The more you oppress, the more that people resist . The higher the stakes and the more the atrocities, the higher the level of resistance"

It clamps my heart  hard in it's hand
Trying to stifle
The pulsing beat
Stop my breath
My words
My truth
But I can't
I have to speak
I can't stop the river
That flows
It is truth
And truth be told
No matter what the cost

When the wind sighs

and fills your sail

and pulls your restless

soul afloat

To journey ‘cross

The sea of night

In dwindling life

And muttered hope

One final prayer

Slips your mouth

Unknown, unsaid

You breathe it out

One prayer for your journey

The prayer for the dead

Your final breath

And all is said

She couldn't touch him
Not for one moment
Dead not on the cross
But at the crossroads
Crucified on the splintered tree
Speed
Speed
Rubber
Metal and grief
And he was buried in an empty coffin
Trash
Like a beer can
And his mother
The only one who really cared
Never even got to see him

Hope has withered

And faded

Like cut flowers

No root

No branch

Life still held

But fleeting

Slowly fading

Nourished in vain

To try and keep

going

For a few more days

Outside the room

The sun shines brightly

The waves wash ashore

The beach below

Teems with life

On that beach

Walk the memories

Of a lifetime

She looks out the window

With no hope left

But the view

Is still somehow

Comforting

The bright sunlight

Enters the cold room

And imparts

A little warmth

She lays in her bed

Bathed in the glow

And slowly fades

I once cared for you

And loved

And gave

As love gives

All that I had

And you gave in return

Your cold smile

And empty words

That promised nothing

But love

And now you have become

Nothing

But a bitter memory

I look at him
Illuminated  by the dim yellow glow
of warm lamplight

He smiles
reclined and comfortable
in the chair of my youth

His rough unshaven face
carries the lines
of a million good times

His warmth makes
the slightly tattered furniture
look better, more comfortable

He stays up late into the night
telling worn old jokes
still funny

He basks in the love of his family
come to see him
and is warmed

I am carried back
carried to my place
in that chair

Loved and protected
rough whiskers on my skin
always safe with him

Sitting in that chair
always with a laugh
always with a smile

Now the oxygen tube snakes
'round his neck
while he tells stories

But his laugh
is still deep
and loud

The hour is late
and I drink his fine whiskey
that he no longer can

I look deeply
into his sparkling eyes
and know that he will die

But not when he can laugh
and still feel
like a child

To the streets

In mob and crowd

To the streets

In angry throng

Let chants and pounding din

Lead the crowds

To pull them down

Tyrants and thieves

Those that lead us

Steal elections then deceive us

Fires lit in the people

In the streets

Let them see us

Let them hear us

Let them fear us

March

March

To the streets

I am bleeding words onto the floor
Spattered puddles
And random pools
In patterns that make no sense
None
At all
Because I have no cuts
No wounds that issue forth
It is simply nonsense
And nothing more
Because I have gone.....
Well, you know.

Waves of sadness wash gently upon the sandy

beaches of my soul

Their foaming caress my constant companion,

churning, ever churning, remorseless, relentless

unstoppable.

The expanse stands bleak and desolate,

littered with the debris of time, scarred by

the harsh changing seasons.

The wind blows cold and hard beneath the

forbidding steel sky, weaving it's way

between and around the immobile faces of

the time worn stones, occasionally stirring

the rippling sand; but always, always,

imparting it's bitter chill

Pound the drum

Of war to come

The Rhythm on steel

Red from the forge

Forms the sword

To carry to war

The sledge makes beat

On thinning edge

As it pounds

pounds

pounds

pounds

It sounds the drum

Of war to come

Soon it will be echoed

By marching men

Sounds of war

In the street

The sword will lead

Before the beat

Followed by the sound

Of drums

Pounding

Pounding

To war

Today, I beat my plowshare

And I listen to the drum

I will be where I should
When the time comes
If you're  lookin' for me
I'll be behind my gun
No time to care
And no time to fear
If you're looking for me
I'll be there

Leave alone what lies beneath the mountain

The labyrinthined caves and deep burning fire

Take instead the cold stinging creeks

The summer pines and pale blue sky

Take the rocky trails and sharp stone

And all the beauty for your eye

But don't stray below and leave alone

What lies beneath the mountain

I stand 'neath wintered sky

And mock by my life

Winged Goddesses.

Bolts from on high,

Blue crackling death,

Thrown with careless hand

Have not felled me.

Surrounded by their circling  fury

I smile

My body is battered

But my arrow is true.

Black  and fleet

Their wings churn the sky.

They point now  to one of their own

I have winged a Valkyrie

She is robed in beauty

Singing of the dawn

Shades and hues

Of innocence and color

Make her glow

Like new found love

Sparkling like dew

She has captivated my heart

And captured my eyes

But not my spirit

Even she is not enough

To quell my dark desire

Pity and mercy

Have left my primal soul

I am born to ****

Purpose supplants passion

Gaze becomes focus

As I set to destroy her

Her death to come

In one moment

Frozen in my heart

Will destroy me

But I do it anyway

I saw a house
Perched on the distant shore
And it was built in the shape
Of my dreams
But now
It has fallen down
And the bare bones
Of its frame, broken and gray
Lay cold and exposed
To the harsh wind and spray
The lives lived there
Long gone
Like my dreams

She melds into the the soft sheets
Her milky white skin
Hot and smooth
Beneath my rough palm
A touch goodbye
That lingers like a kiss
Her words come back to me
As my caress glides over her
I taste her lips
And hot salty tears
And feel her fall into me
As she tells me the news
She is still so young and beautiful
And vibrant
That I almost can't believe it
But I have to
I can see it in her eyes
Her beautiful brown eyes
Say it all
And I just wish it was a lie
A filthy lie
Told only to hurt me
To tear the world out
from beneath my feet
To stab my heart
Until it bleeds
And cut me open
Like a knife
But it's not
For all my wishing
It's true
And now I touch her
On my way out the door
As she sleeps in soft comfort
So warm and peaceful and beautiful
And I don't want to leave

A poetry site? Really?
My words and thoughts are so much more inappropriate
Than the others?
Fearful that I might subvert the poets?
Tear them from their pain and longing
Steal their happy moments
With my words
Really?
You have no idea how your cowardice ****** me off
You in your fear cannot stop words
Or thoughts
I spit on your sniveling censorship
POETFREAK
POETFREAK
POETFREAK
I will take my things and leave
My closet full of wrinkled poems
And all you will hear are my footsteps
Out the door

He thought he won the race
Until they moved the finish line
To a cold November Day
With a small crowd gathered
Crunching winter gravel under their feet
Whispering hushed pain to one another
On the cold and frosted green

Loneliness and bitterness
fill her empty shell

Her lying words of love
slowly craft her hell

Trapped within the cell
of dark and twisted brain

All that she can ever give
is cold uncaring pain

Not a tendril of tender emotion
can reach into that soul

Except her own self pity
Poured endlessly down that hole

Loneliness and bitterness
fill her empty shell

Her lying words of love
slowly craft her hell

Trapped within the cell
of dark and twisted brain

All that she can ever give
is cold uncaring pain

Not a tendril of tender emotion
can reach into that soul

Except her own self pity
Poured endlessly down that hole

Hollow, haunted, hurting eyes staring at
the ceiling.
Cold, hard, white tile floor a pillow
for my head.
Last gasping, grasping tendrils of reason
slipping from my brain.
Oh the bite of bitter steel; sweet and
welcome pain.
An outstretched palm, ungrasping fingers,
nerve and tendon showing.
A smile of peace, a sob of despair;
blood is thickly flowing.
I close my eyes and now I see that this
is childhoods end; Wasted lives, broken
people and shattered dreams that never mend.

He was betrayed
In the end
By the Gods of his youth
His prophecy
Ended
By the only deities he knew
Parents
The infant's almighty
The Gods of small children
Hanging like
The mobile of life
Over them
It is all they born to
But
Bruised fists floated
Like angry storm clouds
Over Seas of battered emotions
Sweet red lips
Buttered with coated  lies
Whispered
And Whispered
Into the wind
And in the end
He was left all alone
And on his own cross
Was forsaken
By his God

Whilst strolling through the woods one day to while away the time
I came across a creature, orange furred and fine
He had pointed ears and bright green eyes
And a tail that kept in time

He sat on the path quite relaxed and squarely in my way
He did not move, he did not budge, he would not let me pass
"Good day to you and how do you do?" Said I in my merry way
"But please move aside, as you've broken my stride
and let me continue with my day"

"Hello"  Said he, as he sat on the path, in a soft and purring way
"Let me introduce myself, my name is Chumley and I am your cat
I'm pleased to meet you, pleased to see you, so glad to be your cat"

"It's a fine thing you've done and a fine man you are
to walk your cat through the forest
A cat could ask for no finer master, could find no better man.
So, let's finish our stroll on this beautiful day and continue on our way"

"Hold on!" Said I, quite taken aback " For surely you are mistaken.
I have no creatures great or small and most certainly not a cat. You are wrong good sir, a mistake I,m sure, for I know that we've never met."

"Oh master!" Said he, with a sorrowful cry "What is it that I've done? Whatever would make you treat me so, the pet who has been like a son?"

"Step aside!" Said I, becoming irate "The day is fading, the hour is late.
You are not my pet, I know for sure, your mind is muddled, go find a cure! Now move from my way and allow me to pass. I've had enough of you blocking my path!"

A tear seemed to form in his green hued eyes
and next when he spoke he asked me why; why after all these years
would I forget a pet of mine

I'd had enough and told him so "Move from my way and let me go!
I've things to do and things to see, begone from my path and let me be!
You've wasted enough of my walking time, now out of my way, you are not mine!"

The cat finally spoke in a wavering voice " I will leave you alone you give me no choice.
But I will always remember our time together, long nights in bed and walks the wood.
I will always remember the love and the good

Later that night, I'd dined and I'd supped, I'd closed the curtains
and turned up the light
I thought of that cat I'd met earlier that day
The thought of him would not go away

I sat at my table, full from my meal, of bread and cheese and wine and veal
I wondered if he hungered, whether he had any meat.
So just to be sure I put a bowl at my feet......
For my cat Chumley


Copyright 1989 James Timothy Jarrett

She was a child when she left

But when she returned

The man she used to know was gone

He had grown old

His bones thin

His belly fat

He still laughed

But the light in his eyes

Had grown dim

But still

She laughed along with him

And smiled at him

And pretended

That they were both

Still young

It really is great stuff
But there are some drawbacks
It will force them
To shoot me
Either in the *****
Or the face
But more importantly
It doesn't stop
The wounds upon my soul

I wear sorrow as a shroud

A grey and tattered garment

Worn thin by time

Stained by pain of the past

A tattered cloak that covers me

Dragging on the ground

Pulling small trails

In the dust of time

Soon I will throw it off

For it weighs me down

And I will let the sun

Fall on me again

Some people wear their hearts on their shirt sleeve
I wear coffee on mine
Fallen from un-cautious lips
Like careless words
Hot and steaming
Spilled down the front of my chest
But the same
A temporary stain
That proper washing will remove

She wraps me in her  icy flow

and chills me 'til I'm warm

Soothes away the open space

With sand and pebbled shores

She tries to lull me downriver

Gently pulling, drowsing

Massaging the miles off me

Relaxing

I know she lies

I know she'd take me to the big river

Carrying me like an eddying breeze

But I want to lay back and dream

And slowly drift away

Cold toast and salted ham
Just sitting in the sun
Warm skin
And hot coffee
Bringing in the day
Soft boiled eggs,
Breakfast honey
Suckled like morning dew
Brown beast,
Muscled madness
Laying at my feet
Just waiting
Perhaps
For breakfast in the sun

It's a picture from better times
Long gone by
Cousins sitting in the doorway
Full of smiles
Still too young to dream
Just happy to be alive
But there is hope and happiness in all of their eyes
And enough life
To last forever
Enough dreams vested in them to fill the world
And I look at that picture
From so long ago
And I notice that the paint
Is scarred and worn
That dirt mars the door frame
But you know
Their smiles are so bright
That it doesn't really matter

Bark at the moon and bite at the sky
Moon and fire lighting your eyes
Wild at heart
Wild in body
Clothed in smoke
On the fourth of July
Concussions booming
Powder burning
Sparks flying
A dogs hearts yearning
Chasing rockets, dragons and Lions
Brown muscled beast
Born to baying
Work 'Til dawn
Then lay down yawning
And dream the dream
Of the hunting dog tired

When the pale blue sky

That blankets the gulf

Turns rippling red

In orange hue

And thunder rumbles

Without abate

To the shelter!

To the shelter!

Before it’s too late!

Steel doors and canned goods

All below ground

Tuck and cover and pray

You don’t hear the sound

Is the world that insane?

How far have they Gone?

Say another prayer

And hope you see dawn