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John Julien Jan 2014
A Modest Tesseract

Arrival followed by immediate transaction
Intentions were concrete, yet unsure
Preparation was not absent, nor thought out
And the music played on

Lights became dim, as did the sun
Change set in, for it was time
Many things do change
And the music played on

Through forest, and desert  
Black became white
Day became night
And the music played on

Conversation absorbed the atmosphere
Secrets came out
Doors became unlocked
And the music played on

Such music, an effortless loop
Entrancing, perhaps sedating
With notes to channel flowing emotion
And the music played on

This life was exhausted
The day is now night
A florescent light restored
A deep breath, a resting mind
Afraid to go further

The music stopped.
John Julien Feb 2014
Armored Heart

Beaten and battered my heart is scattered
Scarred and used, sad and bruised.
But what would be a heart untouched?
Barren without a soul to clutch.

I am angry with you, heart of mine
Locked behind doors, tangled in vines
Hiding from love, behind my chest
Covered in armor, a bullet-proof vest.

Can you be healed? Can you survive?
I love without life, I dare you to strive.
For the empty holes in you have stopped eating.
I know you’re alive, I can feel you beating!

Why must you hold in all of your secrets?
I scream out to you: “That is no way to treat us!”
Our mind, our soul, our zeal to console
Endeavor to fill a vacant hole.

What do you need to tell us the truth?
The lies have expired, the pain is on you.
One day, I hope, that you will recover
And be able to give your love to another.
John Julien Feb 2014
I write poems.
I read em, I know em.
I put them in cyberspace
I share em, I show em.
They start with a plan
with water, I grow em.
The water, so fluid
A liquid aflowin'.
Currents bear gifts
to readers bestowed is a
message in a bottle,
reluctant to open but
wonder is great,
inspired to sew em
a quilt of a poet
to warm a cold body.
A sinner, a stoic.
What is a sin?
A feeling to cope with?
For what is a sin
but already knowin'?
John Julien Feb 2014
I love her.
Maybe it's because I can't have her.
Maybe it's because he can.
Maybe it's because she's perfect.
Maybe it's because she's different.
Maybe it's because she gets me.
Maybe it's because I trust her more than anybody.
Maybe it's because I can always be myself around her.
Maybe it's because she's beautiful.
Maybe it's because I see real, true, impeccable beauty in her.
Maybe it's because talking to her, with her, aroud her, about her,
is an experience in itself.
Maybe, I love her.
John Julien Jan 2014
My Shoes

Someone once said, “Walk a mile in my shoes”
If you asked me to indeed I’d refuse
They protect me from bruise, respect me to choose
Which pair to prepare me to win or to lose
If footprints are clues, mine would be *****
Some shoes leave tracks, some shoes are flirty
If my shoes could talk, you be they’d be wordy
And here is what they would say:

“we protect you from weather, we’re always together
You cannot survive with just one
We provide you with style and last for a while
Until our job is done

Some of us new, but most of us old
We’re essential to everyday life
We’re there on the stairs, the court, in the car,
And even to marry your wife

We’re red, or tan, we’re **** and span
And proud ‘til the day we retire
‘til we say our goodbyes in the shoebox in the sky
Or perhaps the ol’ telephone wire”

Someone once said “walk a mile in my shoes”
If you asked me to indeed I’d refuse
For my shoes are unique, with every lace and squeak
They speak, oh yes they speak
Until they sing the telephone wire blues
John Julien Jan 2014
Old Wheels

You were only 12 years old.
1989 Cadillac DeVille
The color of the sun’s first glance
Inside and out.

The time we shared together
Going everywhere; going anywhere
The power under your wheels
Roaring like a magniloquent king.

Where have you gone
Since our departure?

What have you seen
With your ambitious eyes?

Who now handles your wheel
And enjoys your comforting throne?

Without you, I have settled.
Without your humble hospitality
Without your stubborn pedals
Without your vast storage
Of experience.

Perhaps one day, we shall meet
Again.
Perhaps to tame the wild beast
Once again.
John Julien Feb 2014
On-Hands

My hands have taught me so much
Scarred with experience
Callused, cracked and dry.

Strong,
Blocky in structure
Capable of destruction, but used for
Learning.  The blind ***** protecting
My hands does much seeing, indeed.

They have a mind of their own.
Sometimes I have control, and
Other times I let them finger
Things out on their own.

I asked my hands: “Who
Are you to intend?”
And the hands spoke thus:
“You should have read the
Manual.”
John Julien Feb 2014
Forlorn and lethargic
Until death you wander
Carelessly existing
Kin of burden

Yearning to continue
Onward, unwanted
U*ntil death, I wait
John Julien Jan 2014
The Color of Love

Ebbing blue waves in vast oceans
The vastness of the sea creates wonder
Elegant like a swan’s first kiss
Mysterious like the shape of a gourd

What shall be the color of love?
Shall it be blue, red, orange, violet?
For the hue of love is endless
And the sound, the taste, the infamous blues

Ignition of a flame so hot
Embracing interest in all living things
Whether conscious or poetic
May the deep blue sea forever expand
John Julien Feb 2014
A divided country.
Once a spectator of the other half
now, in a drowing pool of
statistics.

My sense of family is gone.
Scattered in other aspects of my life.
No longer the foundation of
my existence.

Will you ever return?
I do not have faith
for you have abandoned me
and left me to fight alone.

You used to make me feel
secure.
You used to hold me
close.
You used to nourish me
in candor.

I can still see you
even after death.
Even though your spirit exists
you are merely a memory.
John Julien Jan 2014
To Be Continued

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Tweet the lies of love with lustful lyrics
Lustrously laminated by lives of the lost
Reluctantly remembering repressed memories
Hidden, but recovered.

Mutilation
Malicious mysterious misunderstood
Multiplying in the masses
Magnificent.

Praise
Powerful prideful
Portraying pure pleasure from answered prayers
Proposing purpose.

The world
And abyss
Empty like a full moon’s blank stare
Echoing ignorance.

Shall we challenge the Author?
Is authenticity virtuous?
The growth of an insatiable species
To be glorious, to be remembered,
To be continued

— The End —