Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
mark john junor Feb 2016
a thick clown living in his square meal life
painted his smile on his face quite early in life
sheds the years like skin but the smile remains
watches the grass grow
thinks how its like dreams grow into plastic flowers
if he only knew which priest of pestilence to follow
they all begin to sound like cheap warehouse salesmen after awhile
if he could just decipher the writing on the cave wall
spray painted faces and names like pictographs of
some mysterious civilization hiding out behind the 7-11
a robust man of leisure he fries his skittles on the front lawn
candy for the man with no other pleasures
but a sweet girly girl comes by and gives him hugs
in exchange for bedbugs
if we all could live a life of such luxury
the world would be a better place
the thick clown is getting thinner as he leaves behind
all his broken record memories
time for some brand new fresh from the factory hopes
time for a laxative for his mind
that'll flush all the bull away
mark john junor Feb 2016
madness had taken her in the night
she danced naked in the moonlight
screaming of revenges and mysteries wet
when she finally fell to exhaustion's sleep
i tended her fevers but could not ease her mind
which flew like a black raven in the rain
here and there without sense of reason
crying out its displeasure's and it discomforts
a bead with a hole for an eye
her mind was down there in that hole somewhere

she fled in the daylight
and i tried to follow her on down to the swamps edge
but i could not follow the trail further cause it was
into madness she raced with careless abandon
and in the swamps breeding breathing bleeding
that her footfall lead

long days passed without a sign
as i camped there by the dark edge of sanity
waiting for her return
waiting for my loves sweet arms to find me once again
but my only companion was a black raven
he came to talk to me
all those long days under the sweltering sun
and after a time his words became clear to me
after a time his thoughts became mine
told me to dance to the song of the rain
told me to run and seek the sun
in the swamps dark halls

now we are here
living in our own world
and its alright
cause we have our friend
a black raven with a eye like a hole
with a mind like gravel
a mad dream to be sure
but it is ours alone
mark john junor Feb 2016
her velvet mind
swallowed me whole
in one bite
noble i tried to encompass her fairest face
in words sweetly written
but knowledge awaits the little engine that could
chug chug chug up the hill pushing his boulder of wheat
till just as he reaches the top he tumbles back down again
so he must repeat till dooms day
so he must repeat till he learns the golden rule
there are no rules just fancy ways to cheat
just better circus clowns with speedy little lies
just bitter old men soaked in old wine
cursing with one fist feebly upraised at the ignorant sky
her velvet mind so smoothly takes away
more than was intended to give
but its an ignorant little engine that could
that tries to shortcut his break-even chances
that tries to cheat the cheaters
mark john junor Feb 2016
a thousand regretful wasted words
and i'm no closer to painting my masterpiece
of the soulful songbird gently sweeping aside
the weary cares of the hearts soul
no closer to giving tangible truths to
the heartfelt dream
no closer to giving life to the dreamers struggle
as she sings the song of redemption
i paint in a rush
the flurry of words that let fly
like the ****** white snow late september night
which gives the unexpected beauty
to the lush green that still clings to the landscape
now the words echo inner truths
illustrating what i want your heart to see
bound up in the promise of newborn late fall daybreak
bound up in the beauty only the dreamers can see
but still i linger here in the false start of a masterpiece
still with only the bare bones of what i wish i could say to you
i will stay here with my craft's labors
until i can give to you
such a sweet song
that would touch your soul
that would free the joy within you
that would show you how much you are loved
mark john junor Feb 2016
she was an icon
the first time i saw her
looking back over one bare shoulder
the small photograph illustrating her in muted colors
thumbnail image of perfect harmonies
her name emblazoned in small type
but great things come from such small beginnings
roads the heart start out as a trail in the forest of humanity
hard to see where the path leads
winding its way thru mystery's
soulful words written there guide
but false trails can leave a man weary of the chase
mistaken paths can lead to dead-ends
i followed the light that she gives
i heard the song she was saying
now she sleeps beside me
wrapped gently in my arms
such true paths of the heart
make this life worth living
such beautiful days we have spent
our road plain before us
in laughing joys simplicity
mark john junor Feb 2016
i sat on the sandy shelf looking out to sea
intensity in the sunshine
set my head spinning
i could smell the sweet scent of the sea
could hear the breaking waves upon the dusty sands
and could feel in my bones the grains of time as they passed
a thousand years sailing ships plying the
beautiful breeze of the golden shore
a thousand lifetimes of men knowing the depth of love for the sea
and in my heart i too heard her calling me
to wrest a life from the living sea
like the ages old conquest of wind and tide
so with a madman i set off in a twenty footer
and as the gulls wheeled overhead we set our lines
with a sea of stars above
a sea of brackish water below
we harvested a bounty overflowing in my grasp
to make market we had to put every inch of sail to the wind
but by the time we reached shore
the madman had cast all our fish back into the sea
saying that they had begged to be set free
a thousand years of sailing ships plying the golden sea
had worn his mind
worry rubbing the bone of his skull
the wild sea had grasped his soul
the wild sea had stolen his soul
now i chase him cross the flemish cap
every sail straining
no life lived so well
as the life of sea and sand
mark john junor Feb 2016
here where i sleep
in the quiet part of deep night
an infinity of thoughts chase me
grasp at them with a childlike wondering
if i could only hold one long enough to understand
if i could peel back the layers of time
and know the madness without surrendering to it
to see without confusion what lay at its root
what truth lay in its foul mouth
what noble beast lay sleeping underneath its stars
i only remember fragments
shaft of moonlight
a steady rain
grey eyes
Next page