Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
JMG Nov 2010
[[I found this somewhere the other day while I was looking through some stuff.  It is more of just an excerpt than a poem, but I gave it a poetic structure to make it easier on the eyes.]]


I am sitting in this ugly, worn out chair.  It is old, and there are obvious signs that it has been used and used again.  It is simply a seat in which I can rest my body after a hard day of work.  The carpet that this sofa-type-chair rests on is stained and discolored and hardly fitted for the room.  It doesn't even stretch from one wall to the other.  

Resting on my antique night stand is one of two vintage looking speakers that I stumbled across while ravaging through a dumpster behind the Goodwill.  [There's good **** in there:)  You should try it!].  

On the walls are old, used posters that I have had for years.  They are cleverly placed to cover glow-paint graffiti that the last tenant left behind.  Some of them have obvious sun damage, and a few of them are tattered and ripped.  

The bedroom suit is antique and has limped in here after being beaten and bruised since the early years of my childhood.

There are no tokens of wealth here, but there are obvious signs of hard work and many attempts to make the atmosphere as comfortable as possible for myself or whomever chooses to enter my humble dwelling. This is far from the place I dream to be, but I have always been able to make it my own.  This is my safe-haven, and for now, it is where I lay my head.

Don't get me wrong, I love spending my time here.  It isn't much, but I'm thankful for what I have.  I spend some of my most enjoyable time here.  If the walls could talk, you'd be enthralled and perplexed by what they would tell you.  Maybe sometimes you would even be disgusted ;)

I am free here, but there are still so many elements that can intrude from outside these four walls.  The boundaries can be broken by anyone who decides to turn the **** and give the aged, wooden door a little shove.  

I feel so mortal here.  
There are so many worldly implements.

It is much too humanistic and real for me.  It is just too hard to grasp the concreteness of things here.

There is a place where I like to go that I enjoy most of all.  I could never bring you here, but I can describe it to the best of my ability.

The inner workings of this place are not too solid.  the elements are much more fluid.  They can change their form beyond your will.  

I have been visiting this place for a long time;  as far back as my mind will take me, but I still haven't worn out my welcome because this place is just for me.  The temperature is neither too hot nor is it too cold.

The land here is more vast than the greatest plains in the world, but I have trampled on every square inch.

The ocean is deeper than the Earth itself, but I have swam the great blue depths.  

The sky stretches on and on beyond all Earthly possibilities, but I can reach to the clouds by just outstretching my arms.

The mountains reach to the stars and beyond, but I can trudge to the peak and slide all the way back to the bottom in the blink of an eye.

There are more people in this place than have ever existed since the beginning of time, but I have spoken a lifetime worth of deep thought with each and every one of them.

I pated the silver linings on every single cloud and tossed them up into the sky one-by-one.

I gave names to each and every plant and animal.

I paved all of the roads and built every structure without a single tool.

I created the entire world here.  This place holds my every want, need and desire.  It is my kingdom.  I can dream any dream.  Illusions become real at your desire, and everything that you ever believed was impossible suddenly lies within your reach.

Nothing can take over my will and break me down on these journeys throughout the eternal vastness of my mind.

As I leave my mind once again, I take a stroll back to this earthly place.  I find myself still encompassed by the staleness and placidity of this place.  I'm still here slumped in my aged, worn out, sofa-type-chair on its stained and discolored carpet that is still hardly fitted for the room.  It is still a pleasant atmosphere, but if I decide that I want to leave this place, I can take flight back to my immense kingdom and conquer the skies.  I can go as far as I want without ever moving a limb.

The best part about it is that you can never follow me here...

There is probably some place on this earth that is dear to you.  You most likely long to visit this place, and even find yourself there time after time, but there is only one place you can go no matter what is going on around you.  This place is not of this world, and you would never find it simply by just looking.  

Find a place with your own tattered, worn out sofa-type-chair.  Sit down and close both eyes.  No open your third eye, take flight, and start building your kingdom.
JG, 2009
JMG Nov 2010
I wrote some stuff today,
But It is on paper,
And I'm not typing all that.
So maybe tomorrow, I'll write another
And I'll have even more to put up here
Even if I write nothing tomorrow
You are guaranteed to get 2!
Thanks for your time.
More stuff soon!
So if you don't like this.
Not-so-much-poem.
Read my other stuff.
And leave me a comment.
:)
Peace!
:) (:
JMG Nov 2010
Shrug yer shoulders
Just say
**** it
Today was ******
**** it
Tomorrow will be better
She doesn't get me
**** it
The next one will be better
Pitted against me
**** it
I'll make it
Dealt a bad hand
**** it
Draw more cards
You didn't win
**** it
There's always next time
There's always a reason
So **** it
**** it
I'll get something better
I can't let **** get me down
I'll just get ran over
Keep your head up, Justin
It'll come together
Don't let the **** get to you
**** it
JG, November 2010
JMG Nov 2010
What do I do?
What can I do?
Will it work?
Does it fit?
I'd love to see it...
How 'bout liftoff?
Maybe
Only time can tell
Who's got the wheel?
Who has control?
Who has this beast by the throat?
We'll see.
It's a crazy feeling;
Intense wonder.
Signs of Change.
Fear.
Pain.
Loathing.
Hunger.
Wonder.
Am I selfish?
Have I learned anything yet?
I should've by now...
But my mind just races.
Too many places.
Too many faces.
Too much wasted.
Where'd I place it?
Too much time.
Too much wonder.
I'll figure it out.
The time will come soon.
I won't be blind forever.
JG, November 2010
JMG Nov 2010
Watch the sun rise one more time
It'll just go right back down again
The moon, again, floats on by
Changing tides and lighting
skies              

There's this hallowed path we take
This whisper in the vines
Don't stumble there my little friend
You haven't much more time
No sleep, no rest no stopping now
The future looks so bright
As we look ahead again
On toward the morning light

Less dark left, the light comes soon
Born again to light the room
Along it brings a brand new day
Again one more has ticked away

Three-thousand and, six-hundred ticks
I pray to God that this one sticks
Cause heaven knows I've felt the ******
This winter's gonna be a *****
And God forbid you start to itch

The weather here is getting cold
I feel it in my bones
And with the cold a chapter's ended
The storm before the calm
A baby takes his infant steps
A drunk man tells a lie
Eventually we'll all be dust
So there's no use to cry

Soak it up, you'll need the juice
To get your fears to disappear
**** some sorrow, cut it loose
Be ready for what's near
Hold it in and blow it out
Shelter from the cold
Every time you do this ****
You say it's getting old

So...... I will say it's over
We all know our role
From now until never
Leave nothing or no one out in the cold
BOLD text written by JMG.  The rest written by Benjamin A Jenkins.
November, 2010

Check out Benjamin's writings.  He's a new poet here, and he is talented.  We will have plenty of his stuff up here soon!

Check it out
http://hellopoetry.com/poet/ben-a-jenkins/
JMG Nov 2010
I once met a man named Knapsack Jack
He never took his knapsack off his back
He'd eat with it
He'd sleep with it
I think he was attached

He was a strong man, this Knapsack Jack
Who never took his knapsack off his back
He's a scavenger
He's free to roam
Where he lay's his head
That is his home

He got got, this Knapsack Jack
They took his knapsack from his back
It was gone when he awoke
The deed was done
The bear was poked

Knapsack Jack was a kind ol' fella
But when Jack's eyes get red, people get yella
So off he went
Jack stole him a gun
Knapsack Jack gon' have some sick fun

Knapsack Jack got wild and reckless
He carved a ****** path from Virginia to Texas
Stained and putrid
There he stood
With an empty twelve-gauge
Just steel and wood

In front of him, ten men dressed in blue
This would be his last battle
But 'ol Jack wasn't through
With no shot in the barrel
He got nine out of ten
The last man in blue
Brought Jack to an end

Revered as a hero
For losing his friends
Ruined was the man
Who brought ol' Jack to an end
No longer in blue,
Soaked from tears, dressed in black

Just cause a man
Took a knapsack from Jack
JG, November 2010
Next page