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mark john junor Jul 2024
I sit bedside
and listen to the stirrings of his mind
snake their way through reason and folly
see the flashes of the rational come and go
watch the man I had come to call brother and friend
as he wanders the borderlands
between the light of awareness
and the dark of the illness that laid him low

He has not died
but lingers in half-life
like a man tied to a heavy stone
trying to drag it back to the light
while darkness creeps behind robbing him of the notion
he is a Sisyphus of the modern-day
treading the same steps over and over
while I sit in vigil bedside
hoping to catch him aware and awake
a chance to fare thee well
rest now brother
brave brave brother

I stand here by your side in dark or light
vigil for the man who is not gone
who wrestles with the darkness
in favor of light
mark john junor Jun 2024
She was fairytale pretty
in a sky blue chiffon
bare footed and soul on display
both deep blue sea
and wild young day

She gazed at you with inquisitive
but never said a word
leaving it to your own heart to read the lines unwritten
in the pale beauty of her lips

She seems painted there
a portrait of intensities
on the hardwood floor
where sunlight carves its path
across it's worn wooden heart

She is forever there in sunlight
mark john junor Apr 2024
Heroes wear all kinds of uniforms,
and call many places home,
but standing the line for Democracy
they are all just as tall and just as brave

Who was this man
who ventured to a distant land
to defend it from an invader
they are not his people
this was not his home
but he stood the line for Democracy
he stood the line proud and tall
and died

He was my Brother
He was my Father
He was my Friend
He was a good man
He stood the line for Democracy
The Japanese Shuto Fukuyama, who had been serving in Ukraine as a Volunteer succumbed on the Battlefield.
Honor, Glory and Gratitude To Our Brother.
mark john junor Jan 2024
The long hours slip by
weariness clings to me
thoughts become frayed
like a flag that whips in a cold wind
you can feel it snapping on the winds-cutting edge
that sound...that feeling consumes me

Will I meet my end shredded by all
I have withstood
will the strength to endure
be my undoing
by resisting I can no longer resist

Like a soldier I stand fast my ground
Like an apostle of night
I strip and kneel at the alter
hoping not to be called upon to rise
hoping not to know
all I fear to know

Fear and Doubt
are the Twin Gods
who fight within every man's soul
the rack and ruin of their battle
lay wasteland to a man's vision
of what is and what could be

Hold that line
Stand Fast that hope
Let the symbol of your heart stand against the wind
mark john junor Dec 2023
Wind sweeps me along
like the dry old leaves of yesteryear
dry and brittle
imprinted forever with the
memory of long languid summer
faded now to dark browns
far afield from the lively green
that was youth
ever-growing
never-ending
ever alive with all that I could do
but never did
dark sounds the bell that tolls
a dark song that only whispers sing
I am swept up into a stone-wrought doorway
and I nestle my sleepy head into its comfortable corner
sleep comes soon
restful wakefulness that is the edge of dreams
sleep comes nearer
and away, away with all the discomforts of life
watch them fall away like a veil of tears
away, away goes I into the sleep of ages
a new leaf born into the next world
mark john junor Sep 2023
I bury my face in nighttime softness
no harsh reflection of self to see
nurture my soul at the well of hidden and deep
through which I swim naked and unafraid
able to be in my own skin
only in the moments before sleep overtakes...

Ride until daybreak
soon the images of night dream fade
the smile of an old friend
the kiss of a forgotten stranger
the familiar home that exists no more...

Each day I rush through tasks and errands
busy work to keep from pondering
awaiting dusk to find me
so that once again I can slip
my fingers into the well of deep in my heart
into the well of my hidden loves long lost
ride into the daybreak
live the old dream
mark john junor Aug 2023
I sweat a puddle 'neath my chair
so hot unbearable
neath my chair
The cat holds up near the AC
wild-eyed and silent
waiting for me to move
because nothing else can in all this fire hot air
is he sweating too
all that fur gotta be pure ******
but he has the soul of a saint
and the heart of a lion
I hear the lesbian next door chanting
something at four-am
but the sound is muffled as it is sweet
I sweat a puddle 'neath my chair
been roasting alive for near ten days straight
and my head is swimming
eyes can't see straight
but the cat
he knows the game
he will wait till I move
cause nothing else can in this fire hot air
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