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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
Sep 2023 · 67
awaiting dusk to find me
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
Aug 2023 · 116
Fire hot air
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
Aug 2023 · 605
watch for signs of sunrise
mark john junor Aug 2023
I lay in the shroud of shadows
while the steady rain soaks my bones
the liquid becomes my eyes
the sound becomes my soul

I lay on a bed of last falls leaves
they crumble at the touch
but give a sense of comfort from the hard ground
and cling to me like dreams and wishes unfulfilled

I lay under the scant cover of this ancient tree
and watch for signs of sunrise in the cloud-locked sky
and whisper invocations of some deity unnamed

I lay in a shroud of shadows
waiting to see
what cannot be seen
waiting to feel what I have never felt
take this misery from my eye
Jul 2023 · 90
I know I lie to myself
mark john junor Jul 2023
I barely write anymore
my heart cannot take the honesty
that my hands speak with the keyboard
after all who wants to know the truth
when the lie comforts in the darkness

I know that I lie to myself
tell myself it will "be alright"
but after sixty years it wears thin
but I will keep up appearances
keep up "the fight"
that I surrendered to thankfully
how can you fight for something that
you know is not real
No princess is going to rescue me
No bright future lay before me
right round the next bend
just a little further on
keep walking, keep moving forward

I know I lie to myself
Jul 2023 · 92
figuratively
mark john junor Jul 2023
I lay figuratively naked
washed ashore from a dark sea
alone in my room
alone with the thoughts that scare me
I twitch thru the movements of living
fits and starts
trying to not look too hard at what I do
lest I see the fruits of my labors
poisoned tree
poisoned mind

I lay figuratively naked
on the empty bed
starving slowly
crawling like a dog without moving
crying like a ***** as my visage melts away
I try to numb
but I am too alive to feel it
but I am too dead to deny it
sounds rudely awaken me
no rest for the wicked
no rest in a dark sea

I figuratively run fast as I can
not being able to breath
I figuratively speak to you
in rhythm without rhyme
I am figuratively still alive
in this dark sea
Sep 2022 · 655
Ode to be a cold foot
mark john junor Sep 2022
Wrapped in the warm
prison of the bedsheets
a cold foot sneaks past
and dangles in the air at the
end of the bed

I shiver like sailors of old
in this cold wind that blows
across my toes

I wrestle the blanket
for the sleep it maintains
all elbows and thumbs
****** this way and that
restless wanderers of designer sheets

I shiver like sailors of old
in this cold wind that blows
across my toes

As I grumble
look to the clock
Four AM glares back at me
a cold foot wiggles
a cold foot waggles
Ode to be a cold foot
sorrowful tale to be sure

I shiver like sailors of old
in this cold wind that blows
across my toes
Jul 2022 · 807
The further away
mark john junor Jul 2022
The further away we may wander,
the closer to the heart our olden days become
the people who welcomed us
the places we danced
the music that still lingers in the air
with the love of a dream still shared...

The further away we may wander
we love each new adventure
never knowing where the road may lead
but we will always fondly look back
to the many homes our hearts have known
and wish upon wish to share our adventures
and roads with the people who celebrate our joy...

The further away we may wander,
we come to realize
places are meant to be left behind
but the smiles and loves we found there
will forever be part of who we are
Jul 2022 · 1.7k
beauty is
mark john junor Jul 2022
beauty is a terrible force of nature,
terrible in its wrath for the heart that loves it,  
terrible in its burden to the heart that carries it,
terrible to the heart that beholds it and cannot embrace it...

beauty is adoration of all lovely thoughts and hopes,
beauty is adoration of all that is found and lost again in the heart,
beauty is adoration of the sweetest dreams that we wish we could never wake from...

Beauty speaks to you in a silent lust for what cannot ever be yours alone,
Beauty speaks of all the lives one could live in such a sweet natural place,
beauty speaks of how it can never be happy because so many fear it
Jun 2022 · 439
Pride and Folly
mark john junor Jun 2022
My know it all grin
plastered on the pavement
as I'm given the boot from another
home sweet home
"not so fast, slick..."
should have heard it
should have known it
but pride and folly are my calling cards...
now I must gather up my gear
and flee on down the road
eviction notice pinned on my ***...
they are gonna laugh
probably throw a party
done given me the boot
good and hard
shake me loose from my tree...
should have heard it
should have known it
but pride and folly
are my calling cards...
so wish me luck on down the road
I'm gonna need it
with that dumb
know it all grin of mine
plastered on the pavement
May 2022 · 1.2k
Age
mark john junor May 2022
Age
thoughts once so clear
now flee en mass like
small birds scattering in the wind...
try to capture one
and it fades to dust in my
trembling hand
my eyes teared up by the loss...
what was her name...
when was it I smiled like the
sun bursting through the clouds on that day...
where did I misplace that long-sought device...
where have all my yesterdays gone...
all escapes along the shifting winds of age
small beautiful birds
plumage so bright and beautiful to behold
loves and laughter, days of wonder and joy
crumble into dust as my forgetful fingers
pry at their edges, trying to recall...
her yesterday was my forever
do you think she remembers me? ...
as I slip into forgetfulness
I hope that I will no longer remember
to mourn my forgotten yesterdays...
age is coming for me
and iv forgotten how to tame that ugly beast
Mar 2022 · 155
such a bold pen
mark john junor Mar 2022
lesser forms of sunshine
each a design dreamt long ago
each a blissful madness of joy
they invade the room through the open window
while the shadow of a man recites "Hamlet"
in a cold gravel voice
a prince born of such a bold pen
such a tale forever told yet again

"Hamlet" reaches the end of his nonsense verse
no tragedy of princes can tell the whole tale
there is always the love so long restrained
that bursts all the inhibitions and makes
the world all about her

a prince born of such a bold pen
such a tale forever told yet again
penned by figures clouded in mysteries created
a name that is known to every house and citadel
speaking to a world he never could imagine
all these centuries later
his words still stir
* William Shakespeare at an uncertain date between 1599 and 1602. Wikipedia
Mar 2022 · 324
Bone deep
mark john junor Mar 2022
I am so tired
it seeps out my eyes
turns my bones to turmoil and grief
weariness wears me like a suit
adorns my movement like chains
dragging my thoughts out by the hours
days weeks
there is no laughter here in the silent room
of my sleepless night
there is only the ghostly glow of the television
its utterance soft-spoken lie
"sleep my friend" it taunts me
"dream as a child would
carefree and filled with smiles"
but my restless eyes wander the cracks
in the ceiling
my weary thoughts grind over the same
same same same things over and over
I am so tired
why can I not sleep
Feb 2022 · 738
"be that freedom"
mark john junor Feb 2022
For some freedom is a goal never achieved
but only dreamt,
for some, it is the adoration of an idealism that is placed on a
pedestal to remain forever just a symbol...
But for the wild and untamed it is the very breath sharply taken in
at majestic beauties beheld with a loving eye,
for the wild and untamed freedom is the heart unbound and adventuring
in the many fold wonders of the world...
I see in you such a wild and untamed soul,
be that freedom's torch that sets fire to those souls that yearn and dream...
be that freedom that lights the way
©2022 Junor
(Dedicated to "thedreadfulls")
Dec 2021 · 276
encumbrance
mark john junor Dec 2021
I came lookin'
lookin' far an' wide
for some cumbersome thing
that I could weigh myself down with
keep me from drifting away
something heavy
something true
a big thing
a tiny thing
just need a few moments of clarity
just for a moment where troubles cease
just one moment of knowing
just one moment resting assured
all is safe and sane in my world
all is good between you and I
that it has all not been
a silent recording
whispers never shouted
a photograph of the lens cap
Been looking high and low
for an encumbrance that could keep me here
to be able to hear you sing that song
without missing you
without wanting  
without fear
Oct 2021 · 534
"two brothers"
mark john junor Oct 2021
It isn't the quality of the words that measure truth
it's the men we all see with such clear eyes
Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle
echoes of their roots displayed in a contest of wills
two brothers follow the same dream
two brothers dance the same songs
We can never stop being who we are
we can grow thriving under a perfect sun
but our roots forever spread from the single source
our birthplace and home
Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle
find peace at last in each others truth
we are the same inside the dream
we are fellow travelers
whose nature it is to find hope and love
in the cloudiest of days
Aug 2021 · 1.3k
My Brother Bill
mark john junor Aug 2021
That day
one I will never forget
my brother set me free
he let me fly like the wind

he removed the training wheels of my life
and set me in motion
that day I found the joy of
two wheels and the wind in my hair

now old age creeps up upon me
but I still have two wheels and the wind
I still fly
my brother set me free
let me fly like the wind

poetry ©2021 Mark Junor
Mar 2021 · 715
The new way
mark john junor Mar 2021
the world is a changed place,
what we became familiar with is gone,
we must either change with the world
or be pushed aside by it...
I have chosen to embrace the coming world
and trying to learn the "new way"
Mar 2021 · 326
till night again
mark john junor Mar 2021
every night we dance under
the silver moonlight
every night we spin the tale
of friends lovers and delight
every night we learn the smiles shared
our joys take flight
every morning comes
our dreams bourne of night
slipway into the torn stars as they fade
till night again
Feb 2021 · 331
Light
mark john junor Feb 2021
I love her,
iv not always known her,
but I do know that I have always loved her,
she was the dream I always had,
she is that golden moonlight that
reflected within joyous tears
Jan 2021 · 245
Love Lost
mark john junor Jan 2021
The love lost will be forever enshrined
within the warmest places of my heart,
such sweet sorrow for...
wait, what's your name again???
Jan 2021 · 441
"eloquent of mind"
mark john junor Jan 2021
to be so eloquent of mind
but the mouth is locked
what sweet river that flows in the heart
betrayed by the tongue
this maddening speech
a struggle to say
a struggle to be heard
the stammer does not define me
despite it tripping my boot at every turn
to be so eloquent of mind
with the tongue so twisted
Jul 2020 · 177
delicious she
mark john junor Jul 2020
Her elegant day
welcomes her
subtle and sweet evening
dances in amongst the fallen leaves
barely touching ground
She floats along
a melody only she can feel
Delicate she moves
Delicious her carefree smile
as she lingers the moment
As she lay the foundations of
lace and flowers
on the mantle of the moon
making it forever
romantic in its fiery glow
As she dances softly silently
dances among the fallen leaves
Jun 2020 · 172
Lincoln Memorial
mark john junor Jun 2020
There at the heart of the nation a great edifice
a temple if you will
erected to reflect the very best and greatest hopes of a nation.
While the cities burn
is it swift breaking dawn of a new age for the Republic,
or is it a last whispering death rattle of Democracy that we witness from the steps of these hallowed grounds
I tell myself not to fear
our nation has struggled through many great trials
to have found its way back from many dark days...
yet, still, the cities burn...
yet still, our nation divided...
We can only stand on these steps of Lincoln's epitaph
bear silent witness and hope
hope
May 2020 · 117
space between
mark john junor May 2020
there are symphonies in the silence
there are forests of thoughts
to be had in the space between
when she storms out the door
and when the loneliness sneaks in
Feb 2019 · 379
moments enshrined forever
mark john junor Feb 2019
she called out as she passed on by
in that transient light faded and glorious
that her caring enriched every single glance
simple and endearing
forever lingering in her most loving eyes
that held me in my moving gracefully away
into the warm nights unspoken mystery
into the tale once so carefully crafted...

she called out as she passed on by
it wasn't the words that captured me
it was all the loves my life has known
laid out before me like playing cards
forever hoping for that lavish reward
just a chance to turn it all in one simple motion
back to the enduring light i once found
so quick yet so fleeting that i only
had time to embrace
before the song ended...

she called out as she passed on by
it wasn't the words that stirred me
it was her hand holding mine
that connection that i have always cherished
simple and beautiful and oh so true...
making my heart younger in its true warmth...
making my days all run together into
a sweet symphony of images of time shared
a sweet melody of moments enshrined forever
in my loving eyes

she called out as she passed on by
but it wasn't her words that were music to me
it was all the loves my heart has known
framed in the reflection of her eyes
Nov 2018 · 458
we were paris
mark john junor Nov 2018
we danced like we were in paris
danced like lovers under a summer moon
everyone saw us
everyone loved us
the beautiful songs played
while we breathed the romantic night air
wrapped in each others arms
entwined in each others hearts
we were the center of the beautiful world
we were swept away on a sea of love
forever in each heartbeat
forever in each others eyes
we danced like we were in paris
we danced like lovers do
we were the center of the beautiful world
the light shined all around us
everyone saw us
everyone loved us
they all whispered how lovely we were
marveled at how we danced so beautifully
we were beautiful
we danced like we were in paris
till the song faded away
we were the center of the beautiful world
we were paris
till the song faded away
mark john junor Nov 2018
she gathers them up
holding them gently in her arms
there are more every day
like harvesting flowers
pick them when they are in full bloom
she walks barefoot in the fields
in a powder blue dress
big floppy hat to keep off the sun
she gathers them up
and brings them to the boatman at the river
he gives her one of the four coins he collects
for each one he ferries across
to the gates...
the gates....
one bright with golden promise of joy
the other dark and cold...
she hates the sight of the gates....
she wants her flowers to stay the way they are forever
tranquil as life in the country
serene as a sleeping smile...
she walks the battlefield that night
gathering up the fallen soldiers
she is death
come to harvest the late bloom
come to gather the souls for the ferryman
across to the gates of forevermore...
Aug 2018 · 644
sea song (reprise)
mark john junor Aug 2018
a storm rode up slow on the sea's horizon
filling our senses with its wild winds
we spent that night passing a bottle of crisp wine
by candlelight while the sea rocked us
like children in the cradle
but our laughter and words were
so alive with long roads
so rich with our full years

morning found us taking on water
so we turned to make haste
for some near uncharted island haven
and we beached her on untainted sands
with its stretch of palms and gentle *****
while sailing master worked mend sail, patch hull
we walked far up the shore and found a secluded spot
and there i lay with you
drinking in your taste and body
feasting with you on the sweetbreads of our love
till we were full and were left with only soft smiles

we sailed once again as dawn overtook the sky
sound once more and making good time
with a beautiful salt breeze in our sail
beating to windward
with a loving song to our hearts
these the days that my heart will cherish
these are the living dreams that
my worlds foundations are built upon
i knew i would marry you
you knew i would always be yours
from this day till time cease
Jul 2018 · 382
dark weddings (part two)
mark john junor Jul 2018
looked into you
a stranger who comes up slowly
I color with magic markers the darkness in your eye
make it as pretty as you wished
hide it all away
I sleep each night inches away
from your slow walking fear
as you toy with silk strewn lusts
sweet asylum that is never too close

I looked to you but could not be seen
so a lament came to my wicked lips
mumbled a carpet of apologies
spread out 'neath your feet
as you dip one toe into the waters
you called me
but when I looked to you
you looked away

there is a ship that sails tonight
I can see us on it
we wave bye-bye in slow motion capture
I can see the joy in your eye
dance cheek to cheek under the moonlight
shine cause I know you like to touch dreams
breathe for me girl
just keep dancing 'neath starry sky
ill crash your dark weddings
catch your tears before they can fall
be waiting on your morning doorstep
look into you
just for you
not that someone
in a dark wedding day
mark john junor Jun 2018
all of our kisses with giggles
for her it's like the first steps of a lovers dance
how wonderfully dizzy it makes you feel
how you long to be lost in those moments
for her it's like a taste of forever
for her it is us
all the moments of us
all the passion and light
all the lefts with the rights

all of our kisses with giggles
treasures them like jewels sparkling
like reflections of the sky in a summer rains puddle
heavens are found in the simplest lovers embrace
and renders them in deep flowing waking dreams
with all the colors of a hearts rainbow
all the moments of us
passion and light

all of our kisses with giggles
naked in the night while we lay entwined
adorned in latest fashion among the beautiful people
wherever our lovely hearts wander
are the moments of us
a lovers dance that captivates us
lost in her while she's in lost in me
a new heaven found each day in her embrace
a sweeter song in her every loving word
all the moments of us
all the passion and light
all the lefts with the rights
May 2018 · 542
roses upon the vine
mark john junor May 2018
A single page of her
fills her lover's world
ardent appetite to be cradled like the  
adoration of a mortal unexceptional goddess
who sometimes has high-heeled shoes of clay
leaves her and her lover to waver among
joys shared blissfully diffused by tears shed quietly
A single page of her is written
with the fundamental spirit of a lust for love
an ambition to live loves dream
which is center to every man and womans heart
A single page of her is provender for the soul
with a common language of immortal romantic notions

A single page of her
just a human being
with another human being
just an exceptional love within an uncomplicated heart
softly written open to lights of loving warmth

A single word of her
fills the canvas with brilliant colors
takes on the shapes of this feverish love affair
takes on the hue's of these hearts at ease
that wrestle each other naked souls
then cleave to each other with a dire thirst
A single word of her statuesque illustration
histories and futures softly spoken in the animated night
expressions of this average celestial throne
this world of exceptional average simple beauties
A single word of hers
that i have never actually heard
but knowing its there unspoken in her eyes
just a human being

A single picture of her
fills a poet's hands with rich verse
words laden with potent essence within their expression
as wild as the wind in the deepest part of the rain
as enriched as breathing exaltation and splendor
her photograph pasted to the mirror's edge
as if she were a reflection of dreams
as if perfection had a name
A single picture of her
embroidered by a light that shines
only from some souls
a warmth that greets every passing stranger
an intensity that verges on fire

A single moment of her time
leaves impressions upon you that will breathe within you
growing in the remembrance
like roses upon the vine
interwoven and lovely in the warm light
just a human being
but she will always be
just Kristen

© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
May 2018 · 636
fails to seduce
mark john junor May 2018
flowers grow in the holes
of her ever more romantic dreamin's
she fills in the picture with pastel hero's
their colors fade then fire as her passions run
vivid at a moment's of his heartfelt embrace
faded as his wicked smile fails to ******
she is drawn to the artistic brief time in hand
fascinated by the workings of the mysterious mind
how create rainbows from the dusty nuance expressed
create love from an abundance of words delicately devoted
cede to the child hand within us
the joy and discovery
making gentle rain from the hard snow
of making yesterdays into an epiphany of beauty lost
how to be the source and author of true loves song

while she is taming the mare
he trims the overgrowth
while she entertains with tea and crumpets
he is chopping the wood
while she dances within loves light
he chips away at the stone hearth
these are no lovers
just strangers embraced

her inner field of flowers
a swath of rose red bordered by summer greens
ever an insurrection against winters hand
saving every sprout and budding leaf
single-handedly stemmed the tide
as Autumn steals away with all of the summers life
he is her part-time hero
obsessed with his grand gesture
dismissive of the intangible cold touch
she paints him in pastel
but his is a life of watercolor running in the rain
a minister of hammers
the only spark within is that
of the violence of the iron wrought anvil
no heartstring to gather up
to weave a life from

she will mourn his leaving
caught up in the divinity
always found in yesterday's sorrows
bound in the confines of her heart
he will always be the part-time hero
he will never leave
in the loss of yesterday's sorrows
May 2018 · 754
8"x10" glossy
mark john junor May 2018
her entrance was full of
beautiful blue-hued stars
filled with the nuance of a touch of romance
inspired by her i make clear announcements to my heart
that this daughter of moonlight
treads the path to my dreams
alone scatters pages of rose scented poems
along my veins to the point of creations fire
even her tears spent for me are gracious and kindness

after her entrance
blue stars settle on the bare floor
in exquisite patterns that flavor the minds meal
that lends its rich texture and sensations to the bodies temple
she lay in repose like a field of summer wheat swaying
in the cool breeze
she lay in the folds of my blankets
like the queen of hearts
a luscious liquid in her every move
softly she speaks every embracing word
that cools your heated brow
comforts your beating heart
she knows just what to say to ease you
she knows just how to weave you

beneath her entrance
her barefoot leavings are a track
that have led many to their unwitting tale of woe
where from a great distance can they
with longing and tender expressions put to page
placed ever so delicately into envelopes
headed for the mythical west coast
the land of palms and glitz
forever summer
in the land of golden statues

after her entrance
i have within my grasp
a poem of her
a poem of her moment
a rich tapestry that is woven into
the fabric of her Paris fashion catalogue
where she is a French princess in prints 8"x10" glossy

poems © 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
May 2018 · 522
the 8th muse
mark john junor May 2018
the muse of her daytime mind
cast in paper and plaster
burns in effigy of her wandering heart
directionless tones seep from beneath her lip
as her hot eyes scatter place to place
in the neatness of arranged stuffed animals
who neither claim or deny
just gather dust like a memorial to the passing ages

the 8th muse sits entwined
in the onslaught of the forest's burning desire
to grow unchecked by man's hand
to grow despite the sea of grey gripping the sky

her bland flesh
in pastel colors
just clings to the rain
running like makeup under tears
and the handcrafted sketches
of paper-thin smiles
are but a foretaste of masterpieces to come
she will find her own Sistine Chapel
for her soul to wrestle
she will find the word redemption
and know its meaning to the core of her soul
© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
May 2018 · 1.1k
cascading sunlight
mark john junor May 2018
the cascading sunlight folds
itself over the tables and chairs
making the bland beautiful
as she sits with smiles
ever-present spoken exquisiteness of words
she is the guardian at the gate
she is the handcrafted perfection
spun out from the threads of heartstring
sewn into her fiery love of rock n roll
into her gentle quiet lover's restful adoration

the cascading sunlight flows
over the chipped tile floor
like a slow flood of cool waters
inked into the deluge are the images
of days shared here
of the worlds within the music that plays
of the moments where her happy eye captured me

the cascading sunlight rushing
up the far wall as sunset inhales all the day's joy
and then exhales all our gathered loves
like purity
like beauty
like her sweet heart

the cascading sunlight renews us all
this is the birth of my new world
this is the journey that i never knew
till after i had taken its first steps

© 2018 mark john junor all rights reserved
May 2018 · 570
cool treasures
mark john junor May 2018
Standing at the edge of the lake
morning fog fading into the light wind
the forest alive with every small creature
giving voice to the rise of the sun
with each one putting its own beautiful song
into a symphony of summer...
this moment in my heart
a cool treasure from nature
a journey from sleepy places
to a joyous celebration
of the natural world
Apr 2018 · 703
a deadeye wrangler
mark john junor Apr 2018
Egalitarians of a smaller world
with forks for fingers
chew loudly on the gravy train
of poor boys paper thin paychecks
spit me out cause I got no cash
better to be on the street with
a shoeless shuffle
than trying to capture a seat
at the silver spoon table....

Pasty-faced bankers counting out loud
the graves of American dreams they spoiled
the song of their voices in unison
is a terrible dirge and a
strange romancer that keeps
one and all clinging to that sweetest of dreams
hope....

Dudley Do Right is a little man
in his little office
acting like the bureaucrat he was born to be
just pennies on the pound for his cold soul
a deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang
his heart a cardboard cutout of his childhood idol
deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang

all these flavorless fools
pay to play on the great machine
where the crowds call for ever more
salacious parody of what should be
where the almighty buck stops here
twice a day
all day Sunday
preacher man
baker, solider, liar, thief
deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang
deadeye wrangler six shooter bang bang

© 2018 mark john junor all of my poems are my
exclusive property and all rights are reserved
Oct 2017 · 735
implication of essence
mark john junor Oct 2017
a language ever unspoken
words that have no meanings until
they are printed on the pages of a perpetual knowing
a life lived in beginnings
a destiny of sunrises
a world ever in creation
a woman writing the birthsong of her dreams
she has collected like seashells on angelic shores
they were waiting to be discovered behind her green eyes

she pushes aside the layer of words
that capitulate to her wealth of lovely image
getting to the words spoken to her as the girl
getting to her written soul
where the implication of essence that becomes
the fragrance on which a heart may lay
sweet song to the listening soul
meaning of our lives...

I can see that smile in many ways
but I can only see you in your
expressions of your heartfelt wreathe
expressions of your art
true to who you are
in that creation you strive
who needs no other name than the song
that you cast onto the worlds waters
the very same song that upon which this poem thrives
that makes it live and breath in the summer breeze

I can see that smile many ways
but it is the listener who tells the tale
it is the lovers of images who purchase the wares
its the lovers of a world ever in the creation
who wear your words like a gift of sunshine

© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Oct 2017 · 769
swift horse in slow dawn
mark john junor Oct 2017
the horse racing to greet dawn
coated in sweat cold winter night
chases his riders desperation into the pathless night
chases his kindred's dream
to fly across the trackless predawn light
to be swifter than the wind
to be as effortless as the burning sun
to be as fast as dreams

pushing himself
he knows his rider must flee
knows the men with knives give chase
know he will perish with this rider
if he does not reach the dawn before them
if he does not ****** destiny from them that chase
pushing harder and harder
mile and another mile, another mile

his thoughts are for the lazy pasture
that he calls home
for the dance of sun and hooves
the cool cool water on a hot day
the sweet taste of fresh oat and meal
his mare beside him
the colt they had borne
his warm home so many miles behind

now he races along the
breaking edge of dawn
each stride his weariness ties to master him
yet his riders desperation pushes him onward
now he races against his mortal endurance
now he races against his dying breath

the men with knives seem immortal
they draw ever closer
the danger of them grasps at his every stride
the horror of them breaths on his tail
now he races against his mortal endurance

beyond any thought but to flee
as the dawn breaks, he slips into darkness
stumbling he fights his way forward
fighting to take another stride
rider and fear forgotten now
as he falls to the cold earth
but his spirit runs faster than wind
but his spirt swifter than dreams
his spirit free now
to a forever pasture of peace and sun
a horse will run itself to death for the love of its rider
Oct 2017 · 735
undeniable lust for love
mark john junor Oct 2017
A single page of her
fills her lover's world
ardent appetite to be cradled like the  
adoration of a mortal unexceptional goddess
who sometimes has high-heeled shoes of clay
leaves her and her lover to waver among
joys shared blissfully diffused by tears shed quietly
A single page of her is written
with the fundamental spirit of a lust for love
an ambition to live loves dream
which is central to every man and woman's heart
A single page of her is provender for the soul
with a common language of immortal romantic notions

A single page of her
just a human being
a lover of another human being
just an exceptional love within an uncomplicated heart
a softly written cage open to lights of loving warmth

A single word of her
fills the canvas with brilliant colors
takes on the shapes of this feverish love affair
takes on the hue's of these hearts at ease
that wrestle each other's naked souls
then cleave to each other with a dire thirst
A single word of her statuesque illustration
histories and futures softly spoken in the animated night
expressions of this average celestial throne
this world of exceptionally average simple beauties
A single word of hers
that I have never actually heard
but knowing its there unspoken in her eyes
just a human being

A single picture of her
fills a poet's hands with rich verse
words laden with potent essence within their expression
as wild as the wind in the deepest part of the rain
as enriched as breathing exaltation and splendor
her photograph pasted to the mirror's edge
as if she were a reflection of dreams
as if perfection had a name
A single picture of her
embroidered by a light that shines
only from some souls
a warmth that greets every passing stranger
an intensity that verges on fire

A single moment of her time
leaves impressions upon you that will breathe within you
growing in the remembrance
like roses upon the vine
interwoven and lovely in the warm light
just a human being
but she will always be
just Kristen
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Sep 2017 · 613
put on hold
mark john junor Sep 2017
On hold, I'm on hold
if I may be so bold
I hate being on hold....
    feels like you are being so cold
    leaving me on hold....
On hold, I'm on hold
my beard has grown mold
while I'm on hold
    Sold my living soul
    to get off being on hold
Now I'm feeling bold
worth my weight in gold
poke you in the eye scold you for your lie
    Tale all told
    of me being on hold
    rhyme and reason rolled into your sneezing
    while I'm on hold
then my provider be dammed sixfold
cutting off my call in a stranglehold
On hold, I was on hold
goes beyond the threshold
lost my foothold
gotta callback to be
put on hold, on hold, on hold
mark john junor Sep 2017
Breaking open this closed hand
revealing true natures
and altered images
strangers and friends
all longing for a sure path
never seeing but always believing

purchased illusions
price of a cup of tea
or handcrafted delusions
purchased with a lost love
never to be regained

break open this closed hand
revealing the gift
of heartfelt promise
to always love always be there
can you not see
every tomorrow
will always be a reflection of today
until you actually change what you do
who you are
how you live

unclench that closed hand
quit clinging to all your yesterday's worlds
let all you carry fall behind you
never seeing but always believing
that the road ahead holds promises of futures bright
that now things will change
love renewed in your cleansed heart
build  warm day for the winter world
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Sep 2017 · 867
dark weddings
mark john junor Sep 2017
you hold dark weddings in your slumber
where the groom is no more than a fixture
painted smile brittle and small
mothers hold cages they wish upon
daddies girl no longer blue-eyed saint
your bestie too drunk to carry your tune
where the cake is bitter
the gifts torn

i looked to you but could not be seen
so a lament came to my wicked lips
looked to you and all I could see was the gravity
that drew me into you
a stranger with her own maps and masks
showing the straight line between your dusk and dawn
a statement of what's not fair
strange you love me

looked into you
a stranger who comes up slowly
I colour with magic markers the darkness in your eye
make it as pretty as you wished
hide it all away
I sleep each night inches away
from your slow walking fear
as you toy with silk strewn lusts
sweet asylum that is never too close
always far too near

I looked to you but could not be seen
so a lament came to my wicked lips
mumbled a carpet of apologies
spread out 'neath your feet
as you dip one toe into the waters
you called me
but when I looked to you
you looked away

there is a ship that sails tonight
I can see us on it
we wave bye-bye in slow motion capture
I can see joy in your eye
dance cheek to cheek under the moonlight
shine cause I know you like to touch dreams
breathe for me girl
just keep dancing 'neath starry sky
ill crash your dark weddings
catch your tears before they can fall
be waiting on your morning doorstep
come home to find me
come home from those inches away
look into you
just for you
not that someone
in a dark wedding day
Sep 2017 · 933
paper newspaper
mark john junor Sep 2017
news paper pages
scatter along a ***** wind
some caught in fences separating
some free to climb into the forever of
deep blue sky pure sunshine
washed clean of the sins printed on its page
only photographs remain
a black & white image of the old man
feeding pigeons along the empty path
that lead him there

news paper pages
forever silently burning in a collapse of worlds
so old the smoke has died away
pages with masterful words written
never finding lips to uncage their meaning
a beauty of phrase that has never faded
a chain link barrier between what its
long dead author spoke eloquently
and the world disguised by years of dead dust
only photographs remain
a faded image of an old man
walking the sunset
a scattering of bread crumb's
stretching back along his trail
leading not into the living sky
forever shifting between dark and light
but into the dusty caverns of twilight
forever twilight

by candle light
he will pour over the things he never spoke
wishing only for a voice once more
a way to tell her
about all those yesterdays ago
the why's and whatnot's
that he fiddles with
like wooden toys ever more finely crafted
never to knowing play
never to escape the gathering dust

here he sits
in his comfy chair
tea and biscuits gone cold
and his lips ****** with gentle care
words written on discarded news paper pages
like bread crumbs scattered for
birds that never come
© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
mark john junor Aug 2017
nothing so crude
as these words on the page
nothing so uncrafted
as the clarity of me in her eye
nothing more natural than
her comforts she fashions at the end of my day
she is still golden at the height of
the arch of her young song
still able write her path
but she remains here
for our summer day

my mind
lying like a black and white photograph
lost to the ages within her words of the day
nothing more beautiful
than the truth of her embrace
thin fabric of her dress
expresses the warmth of her skin
without losing the demure of her innocence

I wait here in the shade as
she plays in the sunlight
a song only her heart can know plays
idle my fingers spin romance
carefully wrought in silver and jade
cold metal reflecting brightly
smooth stone hard to warm
but as it lay in the sun
it becomes

nothing so uncrafted
as the clarity of me in her eye
nothing so bold as her rushing to my arms

© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Jul 2017 · 2.1k
paris in the rain
mark john junor Jul 2017
she said the rain reminded her of Paris
can almost hear the cafe's and distant lovers laugh
can almost feel Paris 'neath my feet
she is Paris in my mind
Paris in the rain...

melancholy on her face with that distant heartfelt...

the rain slips away
she said she wanted to walk in the garden
in summer bloom
linger there by shady tree...

rest herself on the wooden bench framed in sunshine
her perfume lingers on the trail
of her soft footsteps
a seductive path to her secret heart
she says she is compelled to ask
but the silence follows her words...

her long white dress
reflecting beautifully in the summer air
her long white dress
once reflecting enticing moment at a time
she hums the tune to that song
the one she so loved in Paris
the one that played on that night of joys
the one that she held him so much
not me    not me    not me
she is Paris in my mind
Paris in the rain...

I am withdrawing from the beautiful image of her
without moving she is getting farther and farther away
no more Paris in the rain for me
no more song for me
she will always be that Paris in the rain
Paris in the rain

© 2017 mark john junor all rights reserved
Jul 2017 · 633
"words of treason"
mark john junor Jul 2017
the words of treason he shouted is what
put the stock of a rifle to my shoulder
take aim now that the patriots are traitors
never thought it would ever come to this in my lifetime
there's a man on the road with a rebel flag
yelling that his treason is patriotic
he is gonna take my life for some russian profit in his pocket
he is gonna take my America for somebody else's taxes

Remember growing up the thought that my generation trusted
this land be free
"this land is your land, this land is my land"*
never said nothing bout had to be black or white
never said had to be praying to another man's God
they have come knocking upon my door
tell me my words are not the lies they are selling
and I better get in line or they gonna take me away
get right in my head evil men are the gods Americka dreams of
that our children will live in darkness and hunger
for some russians profit in your pocket

just an hour from Reno stopped by the roadside
watched the sun set on the edge of the desert
and hoped my America would still be here when i awoke
this never should have happened
never saw it comin
never thought America could fall
let alone to have a president be the
one who fires the first shot
I see a rebel on the road
words of treason spilling from his bible
a used car salesman spinning a tall tale
and the fools who cheered him on
wipe that stupid grin off his face if I could
I see a rebel on the road
yelling his treason is patriotic
come to take away my America
come to take my life for some rich thief's taxes

Remember growing up the thought that my generation trusted
remember what my country was built on honor integrity truth
now that's all been sold for pennies on the dollar
so some rich slob can feed off what used to be
a place that the world envied
a place people dreamed of
now the patriots are traitors
now Amerika burns
now Americans die
for some russians profit in your pocket
*reference: Quote from Woody Guthrie "This land is your land" Circa 1940
Jul 2017 · 644
there is only her
mark john junor Jul 2017
without reservation,
such beauty radiates within the eye,
such dreams of softly spoken passions fire,
that once ignited burns within & gives
desires so lustful and hot that
they stream into the minds of men,
washing away all but the sole wanton
pleasures found within, and this lust like
a beast carries her away enfolded in his strength and power,
thrusting to find that one moment over and over when all but the pleasure deep and wide is known, that moment when worlds fade away, there is only her, there is only him....
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