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J M Surgent Nov 2015
Some of you make it look
So effortless.
Love, I mean
In all different geographies.
J M Surgent Oct 2015
And so we sit,
Amongst the dudes, bros and half-hipsters
With their overpriced skin tight
Third world friendly workout attire
Under a half fog of cigarette smoke.

And I love your words.
And I love your lines;
While I look across the bar
Towards a television screen
Of onscreen fear and distrust,
To which I must subside.

Your stories, I welcome all,
Overseeing the ocean of information,
But like Columbus, you've never sailed before,
And fear the monsters we can't name,
Their drawings now pencil thin in comparison
To the bombs and the lunatics we face daily
On the news stands we read, and tremble,
Afraid to die
In some new terrible way
The news will commemorate.

But for you, against all odds, I'll keep on
Amongst bullets and bombs,
Through the smoke and the fog,
I'll keep on,
And on
And on.
The number of mass shootings, especially in schools, have bothered me a lot, and sparked this poem about the fear we now face as young people who attend (on in my case recently attended) institutions of education, higher education, and beyond.

I don't normally write about anything political or provide footnotes, but this is a love poem to learning and education, and focuses on how we should never let anything stop us from achieving those dreams.
J M Surgent Aug 2015
I was told,
Some line, some time ago
About bravery being not who killed the dragon
But who had the courage to face it first;
Like learning to love the dark,
Or leaving home before it hurts.
J M Surgent Aug 2015
It’s those times,
With final hugs and long goodbyes,
Tears that wait until the car ride
When it’s just you alone,
But for the stars above,
That you find yourself searching
For that shine across the sky
To signify
There is a chance
To wish
For one last
Goodnight.
J M Surgent Aug 2015
Some men are just there
For the good time,
And that's not me.
Or so I'd like to believe,
But I'm sure they lie and cheat
So I understand why
You wouldn't believe me.
J M Surgent Aug 2015
Feelings turn to confusion
Confusion turns to frustration
Turns to anger,
Turns to action,
Turns to writing,
Turns to poetry,
Which in turn becomes a feeling
That frustrates me entirely.
J M Surgent Aug 2015
Stories you told, they stuck with me
In my field trips through your memories
I loved to learn the places you'd been.

Places unlike anything I've seen,
Brought to life through storytelling
From France to the Indies; the top of Mount Washington.  

Now today, times change and pass you by
Like cars on the street at night
Yet you never seem to mind.

Your stories that never grow old,
In the aged leather bindings of your soul
Will rest peacefully between you and me.

Time it seems, it learns to dream
When the world keeps on turning
As the pages in your book are running out of ink.

Time it seems, has been kind to me
As I've keep my youth steadily
In kind with the rhyme and the reason
Of your bones.

Time it seems, will catch up to me
Some point before eternity,
In kind, with the rhyme and the reason,
Of your bones.
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