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James Jarrett Mar 2016
I am odd
Some would say
But not to me
Living here in my own skin
In my castle of bones
Listening to words
Beating like my heart
Some would say
I am odd
But not to me
James Jarrett Aug 2021
I remember

When we still danced like we were young

Under the silvered moon ’round the crackling fire

Spilling wine and laughter

Late into the night

Our own private party

Until the dawn of the day

When we still danced

Like we were young
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Your life summed up
In garbage bags
One full of your
Personal things
A snapshot of your life
That no one wants
The end of the life
Of a thief
Broken and alone
But you stole more than money from me
You stole friendship
And companionship
You stole the breaking of bread
And trust
And care and compassion
You stole things that I can't get back
Things that I will never place so easily
In someones hand again
But it doesn't matter to you now
Not that it ever did
Now that you are dead
I don't really think I need a note.
James Jarrett Apr 2019
I have since been accused
Of stealing words from my muse
Thoughts and strains
Not my own
Rhythm and rhyme
Verse and poem
Stolen from the purse of a muse?
I am speechless
James Jarrett Oct 2015
I can't tell you why it is
Anymore than I can tell you
Why the warm spring sun feels so good
Or that a tumbling waterfall is something to see
Or a blue sky is something to be lost in
Or how gently crashing waves can soothe a soul
But all I know
Is what it is
Somethings are just meant to be
And I think that I was meant to love her
I knew it the first time that I ever saw her
That we were like nature
The sun, the sky, the waterfall and the ocean
Everyone needs someone to love them
She has me.
love romantic romance
James Jarrett Apr 2023
She was a Young Maiden

As Blonde as summer white

Riding in the darkened wind

Stealing it's music in the night

To the sound of waves

And sea foam blown on salty air

Old men, comforting forlorn wives

In the glowing cast of Morn'

Still heard the music chime

As she rode away

They sipped their coffee

In screen porch outrage

And swore to get revenge
To my wife, the chime thief
James Jarrett Mar 2014
My hand still reaches
with loves intent

To be greeted only
with fleeting warmth

How you elude me
and my love

Like a doe in the woods

Always there, but never close
It could be a love poem, but it's not. I have a wild rabbit that lives in my office. He will never realize that when the alarm goes and the door opens that wolves and raptors are not entering.
James Jarrett Jan 2014
My hand still reaches
with loves intent

To be greeted only
with fleeting warmth

How you elude me
and my love

Like a doe in the woods

Always there,but never close
James Jarrett Aug 2017
Love is a lie
Because she makes it that
Sordid and *****
Drunkenly whispered into the ears of other men
Dingy sweated sheets
Makes the temple
She preaches her lies from
Love cannot be truth to her
Because love gives
And all she can do is take
She has greed in her heart and soul
That makes her claw at anything she wants
Like gold
She consumes men and *** and passion
Like Dionysys himself
But there is no love in her
Her still heart is cold and dead
And all she has
For the one who waits at home for her
Are lies of love

---------------------------------------------------
Dedicat­ed to Madison Elam, from Alex
James Jarrett Apr 2014
She tried to be a daughter
But never had a chance
She would have
been
Could
have
Been.
But no one was there
so she went
her way
And made her way
She became
who she is
Today
Day by day
And
For all her beauty
she still hides
Though
she shouldn't,
Behind forgotten pain
To my friend Stacey, who I would be proud to have as a daughter
James Jarrett Jan 2015
Electronic tears and pain
Via the telephone line
Depression and open wounds
Bleeding into a strangers listening ear
Pooling as it gathers
And drains into his brain
Telephonic transmission
Of a soul
That flies by wire
Just looking for another soul
To touch with
James Jarrett Jan 2019
There are only a few more tears
And only for me
For I am gone
And weep no more
Five and maybe six
Fall upon the barren ground
And nothing grows there
Droplets in the dust
Bearing circlets of grey
Like the children
Of dead hope
And despair
James Jarrett Jan 2014
She doesn’t care

If I think about her

But I do

As the sky runs from

Blue to red

And the sunset bleeds out its final hues

Power lines and traffic

Distracting with electric hum

The bustle and blur of modern life

That interjects and controls

But I do

And will

In between the weaving lines of traffic

Crossing dotted lines

That mar my sunset

And sometimes dull my mind

I always will

I can’t help it

She’s my Texas girl
For my beloved niece Shonnie
James Jarrett Mar 2014
My love, my faire, I dream of thee
Thine softest smile, golden haire

All things mine would I forsake
Of thy love might I partake

Faire Gwendolyn, easily, would I spurn
This broken kingdom sure return

My king, betrayal, I would not have shown
Had thy beauty then been known

And now with greate sorrow do I behold
Thy sweet love and fairness untold

Your servant in all things,  Lancelot
A tongue in cheek piece to my wife, who is nicknamed Jayne.
James Jarrett Jan 2014
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.
James Jarrett Jun 2015
She caught him out in the shed
Like a thief
Stealing a moment of pain
Wracked by sobs and pouring out tears
Over small and faded pink canvas shoes
The shoes had supplanted his purpose
Sapped his intent
They made his tools indifferent
And uncaring
Turned them into nothing more
Than rusting steel and hanging shapes
Outlined on musty pegboard
That meant nothing
Nothing at all
Until her small and gentle hands touched him
And in shame
He dried his eyes
And put the shoes away
Back in their box on the shelf
And became a man again
Lived again
And worked again
In his shed full of tools
ain suffering loss death heartache depression love
James Jarrett Aug 2020
The dead don’t hear you

While they lay in the grave

Their parts done

‘Til the end of days

Sometimes you call

And sometimes you cry

But the dead don’t hear you

No matter how hard you try

They’re dead and gone

So let them go

Cold and and bone

In the dark down below
James Jarrett Aug 2016
I should have stayed in the shallow end of the pool
Getting nothing wet but my feet and legs
Risking nothing more than a chill
But I'm drowning
Choking on all of the right choices I've made
I'm drowning on all my loyalty and love
My lungs are filling and I die
I die
The air that I try to breathe
It's not air
And my lungs fill while I panic
Clamping,biting and heaving
And I'm in the deep end of the pool
Drowning
Feet trying to find the bottom
Drowning on people dying and hurting
Drowning in all the pain that they are not willing to face
And I'm under the water with no way out
And I don't know what's worse
To die and stifle and suffocate
Or to wade in the shallow end of the pool
And not care and just watch
While everyone else
Slowly goes under
James Jarrett Jan 2014
The dogs have all had a piece

They lay and eat their ****** feast

Yet still he does, still he stands

That tattered remnant of a man

With just enough flesh to go around

To sate the slavering red eyed hounds

But they're almost done

They crave for more

Not this sorry motherf@cker

He's out the door

They stop and howl

'What have we done'

They've put their food upon the run

They snap and snarl

All in vain

Aught to stop their hunger and pain

They cry with sorrow

To the empty wind

'Please come back we're famished again'
James Jarrett Jul 2017
It was like waiting for the rain to come

Waiting for the drops to strike the parched dust and feed the earth

Hoping into blue skies and cotton clouds

That something would form

Would come

Given by grace or God

And it was that God awful wait

Not knowing from day to day

If she would live or die

It was as bad as the wait at a death bed

Waiting into the dawn for the dying gasps

And then one day it came

The skies opened

She told him that she wanted to decorate for Christmas

No tree or gifts and not even the inside of the house

But he knew

As soon as she said it

The wait was over

The rain had come

The water would run in the fields

She would live
James Jarrett Dec 2018
Why do you lie

While I sleep?

Telling things

That I should keep

Oh, Drunken pen

Trailing ink

Telling stories while I drink

Where are you

When I wake?

Gone, gone

But the ink

Just the ink

On paper traced

nothing left

But stories, Stories,

To be told

In the dark

Never, ever to be shown

in the light of day

But drunken pen

Why do you,

Yet sober stay

So far and  far away?
James Jarrett Feb 10
She wears her *** like silk
Draped around her in translucent veil
Shimmering as she walks
In ivory , elegant form
She can almost hear the heads turn
And feel the men stare
As she glides across the room
James Jarrett Nov 2023
Fall Dixie

Only now

Only now

In flames of fire

Conquered but in cold

Long buried hearts below

Last memory gone

Upon empty prairie’d fields of battle

Gone, now

Gone

In evil forge

Of tyrants flame

To burn Like the hate of war

Fall Dixie

Fall
James Jarrett Apr 2014
The festive table
Stands alone
Robed in it's finest
Holiday garments
But there is no warm glow
Of flickering light
And laughter
No spiced scents
Drifting through
Like candied wraiths
It stands alone and empty
The cold harsh light of day
Casting it's shadow on the floor
Last year we moved the holiday table into the garage to make room for guests in the house. It was a rather sad sight and made me think of all those who have their first holiday without their loved one. Yes, I do know that I am a sap...
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Part I.    Fate
It must have been sweet fate
That made us paint the pictures
That we did
Crimson brush strokes
Made self portraits
Crudely drawn in spatters and pools
That were soaked up
And washed away
Along with us
Along with our lives
Discarded in a bucket
And poured down the drain

Part II.  Bird cage

But you? A broken bird in a cage
So beautiful and fragile
Yet so strong
And still able to laugh
And I couldn't stop making you laugh
Because your laughter
Was the only thing
That could make me smile
And there I was
In that rusty cage with you
And we were not broken anymore
When we were together
We were new and washed clean
Our sacrifices on the altars
Accepted
By the sweet Gods of fate

Part III.  Catch and release

How can despair smile?
How can it glow when it sees you?
But the glow soon fades
When you leave the room
And so I am a stalker
Following you down
Those cold hallways
Room to room
To make you laugh until we become 12 again
And peel off our bandages
And run
And let our wounds become scars
And fly from that rusty cage
For so many miles
And so many years
That it becomes nothing
But a memory
But I knew from the moment I saw you
That it was sweet fate
And we would fly away together
Forever
To the love of my life. Only death will end my love for you and if there is a beyond I will find you even there.
James Jarrett Jan 2014
I require no company
save those that gather
'round the warmth
of my fire.
Late at night
hushed talk floats
in the chill air
like wisping tendrils
of smoke.
Faint firelight gropes
at the surrounding darkness
after imparting
it's warmth.
Hours burn as embers
and laughter flickers
like flames.
James Jarrett Oct 2014
Your sweet
Lies of love
Softly Whispered
In my ear
That told me
It would be alright
That made me believe
That brought me joy
That gave me hope
That made me think
That you were capable
Of love
Have
Become
Nothing
But lies
As cold as
your heart
And now
My heart has
Become
As cold
As yours
And I give to you
From my cold heart
What you gave to me
Which is nothing but ill
May the cold rain fall upon you
May you cry as the Jackal
Despised and scorned
and be cursed in your misery
By all
May life bring you
Nothing
But what you
Have brought others
James Jarrett Feb 2016
The kindness of strangers
Has kept me going
Amidst death and pain
So much kindness has been sent my way
My heart though broken and rent
Is touched by so many
So far away
So many I don't even know their name
But I do know their kindness of thought
And deed
Thank you
For without all of you
My heart would bleed
Until I died
There are a lot of great people in this country.For all of those who have helped our family in our time of need. Thank you and may your lives be blessed in return.
James Jarrett Jul 2014
To put our current legal situation into context you have to ask one basic question; what is law? Is law as we have been lead to believe, the codification of statutes defining what is illegal or not? Or is there some inherent property of moral righteousness that must exist for that law to have force?

I will argue that there is a moral component of law that must be present to make the system of law work. I am, of course, aware that there are many places that laws are passed that have no moral basis at all. There are dictatorships around the world that oppress their peoples and use their codified statutes to imprison and **** any who dissent.

The ultimate example of this is was the **** Germany government who made it legal to **** Jews. It was not only legal, but a system of laws was implemented to guide their extermination. But those laws, even though written out with penalties for those who did not follow them by the legislature, were illegal.

It is a basic component of the human being to know right from wrong. It is the reason that human beings set up laws in the first place. They are set up to make sure that innocents are not victimized by the predacious in our societies. In virtually every place that a human society exists, whether on a group, tribal or civilization level, there are always laws that govern behavior. Even those that break the laws have a sense of righteousness. In prison populations, if the prisoners feel that they are being treated in a fair and just manner they will comply with the rules and follow the system. Take away that feeling of just and fair treatment and prison riots and mayhem ensues. The prisoners realize that they have broken the law and when treated humanely will accept their punishment for the most part. The prisoners know that they have committed a wrong and they knew the possible penalty beforehand and knew what they risked. If torture, mal-treatment and other injuries are added to the punishment then a situation of self-righteousness is set up. The only way to control a prison population under those circumstances is with solitary confinement and complete isolation; if left to exist within prison society it would quickly conflagrate into confrontation.

In places where law exists without any moral authority there is always rebellion brewing just under the surface of society. The dictators and bureaucracies of these societies must rule with an iron fist because they know that one moment of slackness will have them swept from power and executed or exiled. Every single individual who is subject to these laws knows that they are illegal. How can they be illegal if they are written into law you might ask; Is that not the definition of law?

My argument is that it is the moral component of the law that is essential for it to work. It has nothing to with writing a statute and everything to do with human nature. We are after all the ones who create the laws, then write them and in the end follow them. It is at the very core of our nature to organize and codify law because we are innately social by nature and always end up forming some type of society that must have rules. It is also our own feeling of self-righteousness that makes us create the laws.

Certain things are innately wrong and one person should not be able to do this or that to another, and that is the basic creator of law. Laws don’t start out as regulations to govern society. They start out as basic rules of moral behavior; don’t steal from those in our community, don’t **** anyone and don’t try to take my wife. It is this same sense of self-righteousness that drives us to rebel when we know that a law is being applied without any righteous basis.

Take traffic laws for an example. Someone is driving down the highway when they suddenly see blue lights in the rearview. They were oblivious to their speed, lost in thought, and look down at the speedometer and see that they are doing 70 M.P.H. When the cop walks up and gives them a speeding ticket for doing 70 M.P.H. in a 50 M.P.H zone, there is little room for self-righteousness. Most people knowing that they broke the law, and one enacted for public safety, will accept the ticket and pay it without even showing up in court. The next example is the opposite.

Someone is rolling down the highway and the only difference in the scenario is that when they look down they see that they are only doing 45 M.P.H. They continue on for a while, waiting for the cop to go around them. When they eventually pull over, part of it is curiosity as to why he would be stopping them. In this case when a 70 M.P.H. ticket is handed out the reaction is going to be entirely different. That person will go to court. In addition to going to court, if not resolved there, they will spend large amounts of time and money to right the injustice. They will actually spend time and money far out of proportion to the actual injustice that happened because they are self-righteous.

Now imagine that the law was written like this: If you are driving down the highway you can be pulled over and issued a speeding ticket at any time no matter what your speed was. That is the point where the law goes against human nature. People would naturally begin to rebel against it because of its inherent injustice. In the second case it is not only that person’s right to rebel against the law, but also their moral obligation. They have a moral obligation to rebel because they should be seeking to re-establish moral law. If they live in human society then moral law, compatible with human nature should be the rule. If this is not the case, then they are being set up to have very bad things happen.

The Jews in **** Germany also had a moral obligation to fight and for the most part they did not (With the notable and heroic exception of the Warsaw ghetto and a few others) and were led to their slaughter. They had a moral obligation not just to themselves, but to their fellow Jews and compatriots. They were obligated to save their children, their mothers and fathers and other humans and in the end, for the most part did not.

Instead they followed the laws of **** Germany. (Just as the German soldiers at the Nuremberg trials did) They agreed to be registered because to not do so would be breaking the law. They showed up in groups to be transported away because to not do so would be breaking the law. They gave up their goods and businesses and money because not to do so would be breaking the law. There were, of course, severe penalties for breaking the law such as being imprisoned or just disappearing into the night and that drove most to comply.

I know that faith also played a part for many and I am not judging their actions or inaction. I am simply stating the results of what happened by their following the law and putting forward the fact that we are all morally obligated to act when law becomes illegal or immoral.

When law has lost its moral authority and becomes nothing more than something punitive to arbitrarily punish enemies then it is not true law; or at least not true to human nature , by which we all act. In that case all the law becomes is a fear of retribution. No one cares if they break the law for they feel no guilt about doing so and we humans, for the most part, are moral beings. Personally I don’t rob people because it is against the law. I don’t rob people because of the fact that it is morally wrong and I have no desire to violently take from another to gain wealth. I will die before I take the sustenance of another to live.

Once the moral component of law is removed only fear of punishment remains. If someone follows the law it is only because they don’t want to be fined or imprisoned; It I not because they have a moral imperative. But fear only goes so far; when the law becomes illegal its moral authority is transferred to those against whom it is used. They now have righteousness on their side and righteousness has a way of cancelling out fear.

Counter-intuitively, the more injustice that is piled on the more it is met with resistance. The IRA is an excellent example. By the 1960’s their membership was flagging and their armed struggle against the British was at very low ebb. That all changed on ****** Sunday when British troops opened fire into a crowd of demonstrators and killed and wounded a number of them. Instead of being frightened by this, they were outraged and active resistance against them doubled. A vicious cycle was started as the British escalated their actions in response to the increase in attacks and therefore caused even more.

The result of the British crackdown was the highest membership in the IRA in history and the start of a real shooting war. The level of violence escalated to a point never seen before and eventually drove the Brits to sue for peace. The danger of enrolling in the outlawed organization was more than offset by the sense of self-righteous outrage that was generated by the deaths and military lock down of entire neighborhoods. When one joined the IRA it was not a matter of if you would die or be imprisoned, but rather when. Still, even knowing what the outcome would be the ranks of the IRA swelled to enormous numbers. When the British military began a covert assassination program to **** suspected IRA members and affiliates, instead of instilling fear it just added to the sense of outrage and drove more to join and fight.

It was the (Legal) injustice of what was being done that gave the moral righteousness to the IRA and drove them to war. I bring this all up because we are now, in our own society, entering an era of legal lawlessness. We will be forced to make choices about how we respond when confronted with these laws. From the patriot act to the NSA spying, the NDAA authorization of indefinite detention, the IRS and the DOJ it is becoming clear that we are living in an increasingly lawless society.

The lawlessness is not on the part of the people, but rather on the part of those writing the law. The irony is that as the laws become more illegitimate the numbers of them are increasing exponentially. There are already so many federal laws on the books that at any given time any given individual is guilty of a crime. We have now become beholden to the very institutions that are supposed to be serving us as a society. Instead of serving us, the people, they now serve the bureaucracy instead. The bureaucracy and the institutions thereof have become the center of law giving rather than we as citizens. The law, rather than protecting us has become an instrument to protect the bureaucracy and punish those who disagree with it.

We have come to the point where our laws are becoming as corrupt as any given banana republic and if we do not actually want to become one, then we need to make a stand and say enough is enough. I am sure that while I have been writing this that I have committed at least three crimes; either by what I have written or done or thought or possibly what type of lighting I used. Do I care? No not at all. My sense of self- righteous indignation has grown to the point that I have no fear. I have no fear of death or imprisonment. The level of outrage has grown in me to the point that I will go to war.

Will they put me in prison? Go ahead lock me up with a captive audience and let me speak the truth to them; I will leave with an army of self-righteous individuals. Of course the speaking of this truth is illegal in prison, but at this point what is law? We all have hard choices coming up in the future; choices that could affect the rest of our lives and need to decide how to act. In the end how we act is going to be influenced by how the legal system acts. Let me end this with a question: If you receive a letter from the IRS informing you that you are subject to an audit, is your hard drive going to crash? I know that mine is.
James Jarrett May 2014
There is treachery afoot
On the highest levels
Treason
Sedition
Malevolent power
From those that rule us
In their Ivory towers
Handing out laws
Made for men
That apply for all
Except to them
Greed and corruption
As they stuff their pockets
Help their buddies
All the while
Mock us
They think that we
Are just the little people
Dim and stupid
So far beneath them
But they have forgotten
That we are the sons of legends
Born of the Gods of the past
As surely as Hercules himself
But we are born of the Gods of freedom
Of Washington and Jefferson and Madison
Davey Crockett and Daniel Boone
The sons born of America
Birthed out in bravery and blood
And we see your treachery
And your blatant disregard
For freedom and law
And soon
The sons and daughters of America
Will be coming for you
James Jarrett Aug 2016
I  remember

When we still danced like we were young

Under the silvered moon 'round the crackling fire

Spilling wine and laughter

Late into the night

Our own private party

Until the dawn of the day

When we still danced

Like we were young
death love loss marriage sorrow
James Jarrett Feb 2014
The machine
Has taken on
A life of it's own
It has become purpose
Without reason
Purpose alone
It is wired
With rules and regulations
Written for compliance
For blind obedience
For it's own perpetuation
The cold machinations
Have no desire
No meaning
Other than purpose
To survive and grow
And we, we are
The lubricant
Crushed between
The gnashing gears
To aid the machine
And make it
Run smoothly
James Jarrett Jul 2014
It was a small bit of freedom
Stolen under the dark desert sky
It was counted out
Not by minutes or hours
But kernel by kernel
Of delicious forbidden fruit
Eaten slowly
Like a lover
Savoring every sweet drop
Nothing else existed
For the moment
But the wide open night
And sweet rough skinned fruit
Torn open bit by bit
Slowly anticipating every ruby orb
That would burst it’s sweet juice
In wet pleasure
The nights were hot and dry
The smell of dust
Still hanging like a veil
And it was it all was about the dust
That freedom giving dust
Not from the dry desert
But the dust left on the window sill
Tended in soft careful piles
Next to the bars
To be carefully packed back into place
So they could lie
Lie about the night
Lie about the fruit
And the forbidden trysts
Under the outstretched arms
Of the small twisted tree
But the rough red peels
Left carelessly strewn about
By small unwitting fingers
Eventually told the truth
That the bars wouldn’t
And they started counting the fruits
Every day and every morning
The bounty now left untouched
But the night was still there
With stars close enough to hold in your hand
The hot desert breeze gently breathing
And every moment
Free
Yeah, I was a bad kid. I was locked up when I was 9. What really amazed me was I was the only one who broke out of the place. I would be out there every night, totally alone and free.I not only had the bars on the window rigged so I could remove them, but had also gotten into the attic and by-passed the alarm on the door. I was like a vampire roaming the place at night ******* cans of peaches dry and robbing the cream out of the milk jug.
James Jarrett Aug 2014
There’s nothing wrong with the neighbors

That a few rounds

Won’t settle down

They are Mexicans after all

And understand the brutal language

Of the gun

They only laugh and get louder

Whenever the cops

Come around

But they know that the mix

Of gunsmoke and anger

Means

Turn the **** music down

Enough Fiesta

Night after night

Enough Tequila

Day after day

Don’t **** your neighbor off

Or the next one

Might come your way… Ole’!
James Jarrett Apr 2014
It had been a hard and sleepless night for the weary men on Lexington green. It had been a night of false musters and muddled information. Half of the 140 men had gone home after being called out prematurely on information that British troops would be arriving early. The remaining men awaited the arrival of up to 700 British troops that had been sent out to disarm the patriot militias, confiscate their powder and arrest their leaders, who had recently been charged with treason. These were ordinary men who stood there on that green and waited. They were tired and disheveled and had lives and wives and farms and children to tend to. They were men who could have been many other places, but chose instead to heed the call of the muster and await their fate on that damp morning. With British troops marching steadily towards Lexington this small contingent of men, with extraordinary bravery and valor, had decided that they would not allow the Brits to disarm them. They were being led by Capt. John Parker and certainly were not spoiling for a fight. Accurate accounts had come to them of British troop strength and they knew that they were gravely outnumbered. More patriot troops were mustering, but were heading towards Concord where the main goal of the British lay. These men stood through the dark night, through fear and trepidation, through doubt and anxiety, until they could hear the marching of the enemy coming upon them. This band of ordinary men had decided that they would defy the British troops that so greatly outnumbered them, defy their God given king and be ****** if they would be disarmed of their weapons. When finally faced by the British they were told to disperse and disarm or face the consequences. The men themselves held rank and appeared ready for battle; their battle line did not waver and they awaited the command to fire. Capt. Parker, however, was a good leader and had no suicide mission in mind for the men under his care. He knew that they faced annihilation in full confrontation with the British force and gave them the order to disperse. He also gave them the order to retain their weapons and the order was followed to the man without a single weapon being laid down. Somewhere in the following confusion a shot was fired and then numerous shots were exchanged, with the patriot militia falling back and scrambling for cover as they fired. It was not a large battle, but the shot that started it fell into legend and became the shot heard round the world. But it wasn’t the shot itself that mattered; it was the men who stood that long night in utter and stark defiance of the King and his army who mattered. Those men who would stand to wait and fight and die for liberty are the ones who mattered. Their ideals as men, as patriots, as Americans are what inspired those who followed to fight on. Their lofty idea, that they would remain free men or die defending their liberty travelled through the colonies faster than the sound of the gunshot. That handful of men, ordinary men; fathers, brothers, sons, husbands, craftsmen, laborers and farmers inspired a generation to war and victory. Now it would seem that we have the Brits marching again on Lexington, their boot steps echoing through history. But this time they are Brits in spirit and intent only, as their goal is the same though they wear a different uniform. The armed citizenry of Connecticut have decided that they are going to make their stand against the tyranny of their own Govt. They have decided that they will not be disarmed, or forced to register their weapons by the state. They have now been declared criminals, by the hundreds of thousands, as were the leaders of the revolution. It is ironic that the very same state that harbored the fugitive fathers or our own rebellion would become the tyrannical British. Their citizens though, have decided to make their stand, their Lexington green, and now dare the authorities to make good on their laws and raid their homes for their “Unregistered” weapons. Just like the first time though, this is not just about them. This is not just about some tired and nervous men waiting for a SWAT team to show up and end the life that they have. This is not just about some brave men who have chosen to make a stand and wait, exhausted, through the long dark night. This is about all of our liberties and freedom; yours and mine and theirs. This isn’t about Connecticut; this is about our natural rights that have been bestowed upon us by our creator. This is about the right to defend yourself against harm, crime and tyranny itself. This is the right to eat and the right to live and the right to fight if threatened. These are all of rights at stake, as they are under assault nationwide. A right lost in one place will soon be lost in another and never regained. There are men mustering again on the green. I am sure that they are frightened for they are risking all that they have. I am sure that they have uncertainty for they are facing prison and the loss of their families. But they are standing, and proudly, upon that hallowed ground awaiting the sound of marching troops, awaiting their fate…. In utter defiance. When that first shot that is fired, that surely will echo as loudly as the original, will you heed it? Will you let them stand on their own? When the first of the patriot blood is spilled, will you stay home? Do you have more important things to do? Ask yourself this; When the muster is called will you be willing to wait the night out on that green? Are you willing at all cost to have liberty? I can only hope that the answer is “I will be the first one there”.   I certainly know where I will be.
"We say: Bring it on. The officials of the State of Connecticut have threatened its citizens by fiat. They have roared on paper, but they have violated Principle. Now it’s time for the State to man-up: either enforce its edicts or else stand-down and return to the former laws that did not so violently threaten the citizens of this state." Statement from Connecticut carry to under secretary Lawlor
James Jarrett Apr 2015
He pounded coffin nails
With a hammer forged of fear
Every word of spite nailing in and holding
Badged and vested
Death and bullets resting in his gun
But still frightened by this woman
Standing proud
Whom he could not bully
Nor subdue
Hammer, hammer, hammer
Testimony to the judge
That in all his years
He had never met a woman like her
Who acted like her
No respect
No fear
Of course not you fool
You charged into the camp
Of Boudicea
Come to **** and pillage
And fell beneath her sword
Hammer, hammer, hammer
You can lock her up
But you can never bury fear
Written for a liar and a coward. Look away little man, look away.
James Jarrett Jan 2014
My words bleed onto paper

In spreading pools of sorrow

They gush darkly

Onto the page

Pumping out until

Their life is drained

Then fall in pallor

To the floor

The stain they leave behind

Is there for all to read

A record written out

With a sorrowful pen
James Jarrett Aug 2023
Will you take my bloodied hands

My broken bones

My heart grown old

My body cold

My very soul

As tax to you?

Can I pay your tax in blood and pain

My worn out back

My knees

My eyes

My worried nights?

Are these yours too

Your cut from me

Or do these things I get to keep?
James Jarrett Apr 2014
It's hanging over me like a hammer
I'm just waiting for it to come down
But still I can't stop
It is the truth after all
But the truth doesn't always set you free
No, maybe some people
But never me
I wait everyday for that hammer
But I can never stop
I will never live
Or die
On my knees
I just know
Someday
I'm gonna get the truth
Hammered outta me
James Jarrett Apr 2014
This game

has drained

the life

from me

slow suicide

knowing

what comes next

I wait to feel

the razor

the pain

and welcome

it's sting

I have been

waiting

now for years

and the time

finally draws nigh

the wait

has been

killing me
The fate you have created, hanging over your head
James Jarrett Mar 2014
She moves through the darkness

Alive yet dead

In sheeted glory she breathes without life

Bleeding without battle, she fights

I wait and wait

I hope

It is a battle I cannot fight

My skills cannot persevere

Though sword and knife

Are easy to my hand

I wait

I trust the skill of another

Who's knife gives life

I hope that she can fight

She is all that I have

I wait
James Jarrett Jan 2017
She moves through the darkness

Alive yet dead

In sheeted glory she breathes without life

Bleeding without battle, she fights

I wait and wait

I hope

It is a battle I cannot fight

My skills cannot persevere

Though sword and knife

Are easy to my hand

I wait

I trust the skill of another

Who's knife gives life

I hope that she can fight

She is all that I have

I wait
James Jarrett Jan 2014
He crafts the finest ever made

soft speakings of verse and prose

delicately hammered like finest gold

each fragile link formed and forged

by mind and heart with love and and woe

Words together in finest beauty

birth shimmering chains of golden thought

with pauses hung 'tween glimmering links

like iridescent shimmering pearls

Deep hued gems dripped from tongue

dance in jeweled and sparkling splendor

to decorate this work of art

hammered from the wordsmith's heart
James Jarrett Mar 2014
Possums not only smell nice, but if they really like you, they will put your hand in their pouch and groom you

Cold raccoon hands on your **** are creepy

A rattlesnake will bite the hand that feeds it

Flying squirrels in your bedroom are hard to catch, but cute as hell

Deep down inside, a wild rabbit will always think you want to eat it

What it feels like to bounce off the ceiling when a house explodes because of a gas leak

It is frightening when a squirrel goes into your mouth after peanuts and they are already gone

When you get hit by lightning it sounds like rock and roll

Lightning will strike twice

You must feed a baby rabbit "Special ****" from an adult for it to survive

When you jump from a third floor roof, your legs will go numb....Until the pain hits

It is really bad if a rattlesnake wraps around your steering column while driving

You can walk almost half a mile with a broken hip and pelvis

What *** tastes like

The sound your neck makes when it breaks

You can catch a water moccasin 3 times by the neck before he catches on  and bites you

A woman will make you carry her through a mud puddle, even after you have been bitten by a water moccasin  through an act of your own stupidity
And the list goes on. But just some Friday fun.
James Jarrett Jan 2014
I still can't go there.
To that little swatch of grass
bathed in sunlight
without even a dappling of shade
It seems like a  green field of memories
with almost no one left to remember
Even the words  subscribed on the tiny brass plaques
seem somehow belittling  
With them set into the ground
for the convenience of mowers
to pass over
It makes her seem
so inconsequential
that she shouldn't trouble the groundskeeper
with her monument
It makes me think of the mundane consequences of death
that overshadow the greatness of life
Like the simple economics
of  maintenance
I can't look at the life of such a beautiful women
summed up in such a small way
it seems  so common
so trite
I know that she would have told you
that she was common
but she wasn't
She had a greatness in her soul and being
that transcended the normal
that transcends death
I am overwhelmed by that little plaque
and it's insignificance
Enough to paralyze me from going there
I know that if I see it it will push
the other memories from my mind  
and supplant her
She will become a place in a cemetery
with a little map on the grounds keeping shed
gridded and numbered
number 6 in row B
a little part of the order in a small field
and I can't have that
For My mother, Charlotte Jarrett with all my love
James Jarrett Feb 2014
I saw her again, there at the hospital
Her hair had begun to silver in early autumn
She was no longer the child
That I had tried to protect, but a grown woman
She was now a matriarch
And she had developed steel in her soul
The years of neglect had been a fire
That forged her an inner strength
Burned the Iron until it became hardened
Even better than it would have been
We talked in the hushed waiting room
All echoes of happiness muffled by the sadness
That clung to the walls like padding
We walked the sterile halls
Scrubbed clean of tears and smiled sad smiles at each other
It was her first death as the matriarch
And she was in charge of this thing, this dying
She was the one who had the strength
To keep everyone else together
Keep them functioning, even if robotic
They did whatever task she gave them
Feeling as if they had accomplished something
And forgetting for a moment
I was proud when I saw her, even through the sadness
Although it was no work of mine
I felt that I had let her down
As I couldn't protect her from the unspeakable things
That visited her daily and worse, nightly
She had been so young and vulnerable, but no more
She was strong and stable,
The rock that the rest of the family could anchor to
As they were buffeted in a hopeless ocean
Yes, she was now the matriarch and she was in charge of this thing,
This dying
To my most beloved niece, the new matriarch.
James Jarrett Apr 2014
Because there are no sides and
It doesn't matter what you believe
Or who you are
There is no left or right
We are all feel the same
Maybe a little broken
Or flawed or angry
It is a respite and relief from pain
It is spoken from the soul and to the soul
And it is the only time
That I can be fully human
I love the neutral ground of poetry where we all come to lament or rejoice or vent.  There are no differences or borders when someone leaves or dies that you love and you express that.
James Jarrett Feb 2014
The many
blows of time
fall savage
upon my soul
James Jarrett Apr 2021
Her heart lay beneath
his ear
It's beat
Strong and near
The only peace upon the earth
The only place of  hold and rest
Warm skin
Warm blankets
Heart marching
Marching
Marching on
Tomorrow
He will go on
James Jarrett Jan 2014
There is a place within your heart

that is reserved

for the one you love the most

The one you must have

That special soul

that interlaces

with yours

becomes part of you

part of your very being

Without whom

life is empty and longing

I knew the moment I saw you

That it was you

That you were the one

The warm sunlight

shining in my darkness

I knew I had to have you

That you would be in that place in my heart

Although, I had only just met you

One glimpse was enough

I am so glad my love

That after all these years

You still shine

your warm sunshine

on me
To my love
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