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Mar 2016 · 574
forever just for her
mark john junor Mar 2016
in the softest sound of a hopeful heart
she awaits you
she mesmerizes with the delicate flower of her smiles
cascading down your nightly path laughing sweetly
you know shes there
and so you whisper a soft song to her
you bring into it every touch of love
every tender intensity of devotion
and caress her soul with your heartfelt desires
you tell her of bright beauty of tomorrow shared
you sing to her of the swift velvet sea where
the two of you will forever be free upon its deep waters
you sing to her of the love your heart feels
for her alone
you know shes there next to you
holding you close
close enough to breathe as one
its not just a dream
its not just the beautiful night kissing your heart
she is there in every thought your heart feels
she is there ‌every song beautiful hearts dream
sing to her now
in just a whisper
she is so close to you
you breathe as one
delicate dance of fingers on each others softest soul
sing to her of futures to be shared
tell her of all the things that you hope for
tell her that your devoted love will last forever
forever just for her
forever just for her

© 2016 mark john junor all of my poems are my exclusive property
and all rights are reserved
Mar 2016 · 359
be defined as mad
mark john junor Mar 2016
they all walked
with willing hearts
with open eyes
or so they all believed
they wanted to know madness
so she showed them mirages she created ink and paper
the fruit of a tree where there was only barren darkness
the man who could fly without wings or a sky
a sea made of sand
a child with an old mans soul
a dream made of burning wood
the machinery of the mad mind blinded by darkness
its wheels turning powered by the words she spoke
its sharp edged meanings painted by her haunting eyes
did a lifetimes living in its loud escapism
quick the muddy waters flow
drink of its thick strong taste
know the clarity of madness
only found in the shadows of night
a corner beyond the edge of carpet
carved into the wooden floor in strange symbols
the meaning of your life
the name of the beast your heart rides
its dark skin that you cling to sweating and hot
leaves you staring into
the abyss
lost from your mind
whispering secrets
laughing quietly
grin at the beast
see it grin back
Mar 2016 · 485
seasong
mark john junor Mar 2016
the rapture of a souls song plays out inside the mind
as she sits quietly reading in a late fall moonlight
trading the falling leaves for the keys to the kingdom of pain
she scours the printed page for flaws to crow about in the dawn
but she fails to see the falling tears and the raging snowstorm
she feels but refuses to see
all our childhood dreams lined up as toy soldiers
on a battlefield of right and wrong
of love and despair
with one absent minded finger dancing in her hair
she fumbles for the meanings in the steady rain
she feels out the sentences written in summer skies
the novella there in between the covers are the story she reads
but its the long silence in the room between two people
that shapes her fate
writes her tears
the rapture of souls song plays out
with a beautiful melody
and such heartfelt lyrics
but no beautiful song lasts forever
anywhere but in the heart
and her song still plays for me
Mar 2016 · 743
a salty treason
mark john junor Mar 2016
a salty treason made of tears
betraying her subtly for the tender heart she has
as she counted souls on the road to perdition
she asked that they all spare an ounce of paint
so she could wrest a better image for herself in
the fashion magazines
lovely she lay wrapped in the golden glow of sunlight
expressing all of her hopeful dreams
that others would have left littering the road to redemption
lovely she inked herself into the trending news
and spread a carpet of rose petals for her to lay on
waiting for rescue
we are all lovely on the road to perdition
we all dream big dreams of where we always hoped to be
we all paint our loves on our sleeves
in brilliant colors
never expecting the tears
never wanting a salty treason
Mar 2016 · 580
an englishmen's dream
mark john junor Mar 2016
i brandished the inquisitive dream
and it flourished in the fading sunlight
like the fading glory of a dying empire
it spoke words of its own making
herald proclaiming loyalty to the house of windsor
it withdrew images from its ancient life
and spread them before me like a tapestry
full of the past splendor and beauty of king and country
of stalwart men of iron will striving against darkness
in a clash of steel and the roar of cannon
and the salty tears of the men who went to sea
conquer the seven seas that rise and fall to the words of a queen
its an englishmen's dream
dignified despair
tea and biscuits at a quarter past four
the queen's photograph hanging dusty but regal in the parlor
mad dogs and englishmen stand at the ready
at the gates of the empire
to keep safe the lords and ladies
to keep right the awesome might
of fine english blades
spilled blood on every continent
for king and country
just an englishmen's dream
im a Scotsman
Mar 2016 · 418
tale untold
mark john junor Mar 2016
sunshine and the bicycle move as one
threading a narrow path among the leaves
fast as wind light as feather
the asphalt flows underneath me
pushing me forward and further
past yet another sequence of streets
past yet another world for me to glimpse
leaving me as young as the man i used to be
filled with the promise of what i will never have
sketch the tale in my heart as the miles melt behind
fair haired and overflowing with joys unabated
that is what i could see from my seated adventure
faster and faster on my shiny machine
leaving behind the people and places of the past
looking forever for that bright future
in the palm of my hand
Mar 2016 · 432
plague spreads
mark john junor Mar 2016
crows feeding loudly in maiden hay field
in the noon sun
such a dark sound these creatures
such a ancient place they call to in the heart
'no good has ever come from this'
he recites to his unhearing heart
as he moves into the field
seeking the towering oak tree in the far corner
along the broken teeth of the field-stone wall
seeking the solace of the cool shade
and this feast of crows he must scatter
he must reap now that the devil has sown
must gather unto god
what man cast down in this dark place
this noon day sun of perils
this godless place with its ****** of crows
he shouts a prayer as he treads near the tree
to scatter these spawn of darkness
they take to wing
there in the shadows he finds the mans corpse
the plague had claimed him
madness of its fever had lead him here
so here he will be buried
by the village priest
taking up the shovel he digs a rough narrow hole
and covers the corpse
carrying the shovel and the plague back to his village
so it came to this quiet european town
so the black death spreads
so the plague destroyed europe
Mar 2016 · 437
plagiarized smiles
mark john junor Mar 2016
cling to my misspoken thoughts
as my emotional titanic sinks
leaving me gasping for breath
put up a brave face while walking through
a snake pit of unfriendly eyes
she walks beside me with her dark motives in a jar
she plagiarized his sardonic smile
and nourished the same beast that's within all of us
that thrives on angry tears
no mystery this happenstance face i wear
i got it from the dogeared newspaper salesman
who lingers on the street corner in the rain
his headlines always predict the worst of human nature
but if you read the fine print
there are always better people trying to speak above the fray
and if you had heard the soft siren song
it would have spoken beautiful things to your heart
it would have given you gifts of knowin'
brought you home with her voice
made you at ease with the tale told
as she plagiarizes your sweetest smiles
i have only these hands to write poems and a heart full of love to give
Mar 2016 · 490
run like the wind
mark john junor Mar 2016
let me slip away into sleep now
let me open my dreamers eyes in restless slumber
slip away to a dream of summer long ago
to walk the paths that only boyhood knew
to be once more the manchild beholding
all the world within my grasp
all the mysteries to be conquered
to be the hero for all the world to see
this sleeping world gives glimpses of itself as i awaken
the steps of roosevelt school
footsteps echoing on the ornate marble
laughing clear and clean
without worry or taint
let me slip away into sleep once more
let me fly among the stars
in wonderful adventure
let me run like the wind
free once more
free
Feb 2016 · 534
sea's wild desert
mark john junor Feb 2016
the silence of the room feels forgiving
so i wrap myself up in its comforting warmth
hold out with trembling fingers a bittersweet morsel
a few cautious words of beautiful lament
an emotional plea of constructed images to find
my grace in the arms of a long lost love
to find the forgiveness all men need from the
past no matter distance or time
for all men without
exception must find meaning in their lives
mine has been what loves i sought in the darkness and light
what palaces of strange beauty
discovered in the wild heat of human jungle
discovered in the barren expanse of the sea's wild desert
that love i have found at the very edge of humanity's dark world
a small flame of tenderness cupped in my hearts hand
nourished it
give it hope and future
but still i seek
half blind with age
i still ferry across the expanse
at the edge of humanity's plight
seeking the forgiveness of my first love
seeking the hope of tomorrows lover
Feb 2016 · 655
laxative for the mind
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
Feb 2016 · 356
black raven
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
Feb 2016 · 452
little engine
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
Feb 2016 · 392
only the dreamers can see
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
Feb 2016 · 327
thumbnail image
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
Feb 2016 · 863
estuary
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
Feb 2016 · 507
grey eyes
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
Feb 2016 · 702
fairytale heart
mark john junor Feb 2016
moody girl
resting her head on me
while i purge my thoughts to the page
spilling like a dark red wine
its all sticky but the words lay down
in complacent indifference
i **** them with a wooden stick
wishing they would run and fly
wishing they would speak with their own voice
but they only give a sluggish lip service to the effort
she is breathing a sleepy word of her own from my lap
lover
i type with one hand while the other is wrapped up in her dreadlocks
this is my gem moment of the day
we are alone
and all the day is behind us
twilight gathers us in its gentle arms
and i can just live in the moment
i can explore her
always some new way to see this complex girl
always some new way to be with her beautiful loves
she makes my heart seaworthy
the depth her articulate eyes say things to me
that i would never had dreamt
the storybook of her open face speaks to me
romances me with her fairytale heart
i am her prince
she is my bride
Feb 2016 · 861
twentieth century man
mark john junor Feb 2016
requiem for the immaterial man
his pauper pockets clean but empty
he stitches his threadbare life with a careful hand
this is the latter half of the twentieth century man
and his well spoken mind sees the writing on the wall
knows the disease of market minded wall street dreamers
and the throw away class of the poor stranded in jails

he watches with dismay the evening news
the tale told of hard times to come
he embraces his family unit with
courage and trepidation
this wife and child are his universe
love for them wells up from the center of his soul

requiem for the immaterial man
he is spread thin and feeling the pressure
but its for his loved ones so he will hang on
but its for the long haul so he will make due

will you please spare him some thought
when you go to the hallowed halls
when the republic calls you to cast your vote
for the fool who will sit in the oval office
for the king billionaire who holds our fate in his lunatic hands

the latter half of the twentieth century man
carrying his lunch in a pale
walks slowly home from his busy workaholic day
the burden on his shoulders plain
but he is a strong man after all
a better man
spare him a thought
for his loved ones
Feb 2016 · 620
american girl
mark john junor Feb 2016
my smile so unlike a vagrant
only wanders the backstreets off her heart
leaning on the lampposts of tenderness
while her storybook temptress casual apparel
lures my pervert tendencies ever onward to
the gates of her pearly pink sweetbox
she leans heavy into that come hither look
she desires dark things that she will never admit to
shes an american girl down to her hello kitty socks
adorable an sweet
***** girl so nasty nice
i take up drawing again
trying to capture my soldiers retreating
after a long night on the battlefield of between the sheets
she nestles in close
as i taste her with my lips
we fall to dreamin
sleep rushes in
i dream of a withering sun
i dream of long ago autumn nights
Feb 2016 · 473
poem song
mark john junor Feb 2016
her heaven interrupted
she waits there by the wooden door
burned into its crispy surface is a poem aimed at her heart
a poem in the form of a image
a graceful piece illustrated to the minds eye
a flowing of words and thought that only
a great painter could put to canvas
it was of a love she knew many years ago
it was a autumn affair
dry leaves had scattered under her soft shoe walk
and the boy had taken her hand and then
had taken her
only to fade into memory by the first frost
the wind chimes in the semi-darkness remind her of that day
sounding clearly like a soft summer song
to her young and vibrant heart
sounding like trumpets hailing the coming
of some grand and great prince
head held high
with the purest of intents
yes those chimes sound so alive to her
brings back so many memories
of her young and willing heart
these many years later
she has only the barest scrap of paper
with his name still legible
faded but bold
bold like he was
like he was
now the years have told their tale
and her eyes loose focus
as her dreams once more turn to those heady days
of her young heart
as she slips into a final slumber
she dreams of him
and the poem song of her love for him
Feb 2016 · 697
a kiss away
mark john junor Feb 2016
this long hour that she's
refusing to speak to me
we sit in the bedroom
opposite sides
the tv goes unheard in the corner
softly whispering nonsense to itself
like a madman
she is sitting with her perfumes and paints
looking distantly into the mirror
i study her face from across the room
grasping for words i dare not speak
trying for a thought that could resolve
remembering that sometimes its better to let anger alone
but from here she doesn't look angry
she plays with her hair
applies lip gloss
fiddles with things
waiting
i let loose with a softly spoken 'sorry'
she tells me she loves me
what did it all mean
why had there been such angry words
i look for the meanings but left puzzled
sometimes its better to let anger walk its own path
out of its dark woods
her sunshine returns in the coming hours
and we are once again
hand in hand
a glance away from a smile
a kiss away from each other
we make love in the afternoon sunlight
and drift into sleep entangled in each-others arms
lover sweet lover
Feb 2016 · 1.8k
fanboy
mark john junor Feb 2016
starlet of the silver screen
crafted herself to display the power of her beauty
and practiced in the art of visual seductions
she desires to be intoxicating
to move men to noble heights without saying a word
to ****** the hearts of men with just a smile
to be center stage in the brilliant light of adulation
her craft allows her to be anyone she wants
princess or pauper
a master of her craft she is every man's dream
she is true beauty
at the height of her career
a hollywood starlet
an american goddess
the love affair daydream of every fanboy
i look into those velvet eyes
and see all that ever could have been
all things ever desired
she's a starlet of the silver screen
woman boldly striking a seductive pose
assured and strong
true beauty
american goddess
Feb 2016 · 408
this dark heaven
mark john junor Feb 2016
this dark heaven
this treasured place
a promise of pleasure
the stain of human gesture brought and sold
bleak for its beauties of the eye to behold
strained against the leash which holds it to the street
it too has dreams
wishes held close to the heart
spoken aloud only in whispers of the night
faces carved with the eloquence of once loved and lost
caress becomes sinister in this piecemeal love affair
smiles become shells for the lies told
only the twenty pieces of silver accepted
only the once innocent soul sold
all too soon i must flee this dark romance
all too soon the morning sun will reveal
this dark heaven
on her way home
Jan 2016 · 416
the ever faster rabbit
mark john junor Jan 2016
my blue sky dream forsaken
i now chase the ever faster rabbit
of promised fairy tale
his pronounced face forever plastered on billboards
and barroom halls wanted posters
after all don't we all wish at some point or another
to chew the gristle of god's little plan for each of us  
to get down to the furry bones of 'who am i really'

get to recognize your soul's signature
they say its your subconscious self speaking through your actions
they say that there is a devil inside every mans heart
but iv seen the better half of lesser men
iv beheld the man who holds the other above water till
he can swim on his own
get to recognize your soul's better nature
live for that
for in the end of your days
you will weigh out the pro's and con's of your life
and its the love given that outweighs your darkest days

so this early sunday morning i chase that faster rabbit
with a handful of questions that have always troubled my soul
should i have gone left instead of right
should i have put a ring on her finger instead of letting her go
all the questions that that have always troubled my soul
looking for the same rabbit as you
the one that breeds discontent that keeps you awake at night
Jan 2016 · 1.1k
fading into echoes
mark john junor Jan 2016
some punk rock band on the radio
plays transparently hopeful echoes of some quick romance
while she lounges on the couch in a see-thru dress
smoking expensive french cigarettes
her dreadlocks spread round in the morning sunlight
but her sunglasses out of context in the small room
she is the definitive architecture of **** cool
tapping a painted finger nail on the wood in time with the tune
her lips mirror the the lyrics perfectly
its a weeping time tale to hear her past out from
the start of her humble jungle of a childhood
to her trips along the nile river photographed so well
she's an open book translated from street etiquette
to manicured lawns of the greasy richy riches
and back again
the room holds many scents
roses from her bedspread
stale leaves burning from those parisian cigarettes
and her delicate and elusive perfume that my mind
wraps itself up in with such intense images of
my lips grazing the nape of her neck
i walk across the uneven floor of the small room
and land myself slowly up against her warm body
we talk softly
the hour drifts by like dust falling in the still air
disappears like the punk song
fading into echoes
Jan 2016 · 472
paris's boothill
mark john junor Jan 2016
out to sea
countless miles hand to the tiller
to find that brief moment
on the crest of a twenty foot breaking wave
as a nor'easter wilds the sea
when you glimpse it
in the stillness between heaven and earth

she hid in her bedroom
looking at a late fall paris passing rainstorm
and on the run down east side facing the setting sun
she could just make out another lover fleeing town with
his creditors in hot pursuit
he owed so much for the words he had abused
up on paris's boothill
the gunslingers and thieves wouldn't have ya
it was in that darkest hour she glimpsed it in the mirror

under the bewitching stars
in the anvil of desolation's wasteland of high desert
on the cusp of the suns imminent rise
you can see it in the broiling fire
as the edge of the world itself appears to burn
you can see clearly that this end
of your little world
is but a door which you stand at the threshold
many times in your life
step into the fire or frying pan
step into the next world you will live in
or try vainly to escape into the past
Jan 2016 · 701
the love i never knew
mark john junor Jan 2016
the open field before us
was a tall grass of a butternut yellow
it swayed in the breeze liquid almost alive
she lead me forward
calling back to me over her shoulder
with a broad smile
the sun caught in her hair
but her smile overwhelms the sunlight
and she remained to me within sight
as the rest of the world fell to the amusements of the stars
the air full of a false summer
she laughed at such an idea
and told me it was but yet mid-winter
and soon the snow will fly
gentle on its own goodnight path
of histories fallen and left obscured
in a single torn photograph
she leads me on
casting glances and bittersweet smiles back at me
this is your last road she calls out
and she is the gentle soul come to bring me to rapture
she is the love i never knew
the one that fell by the wayside one terrible night
so long ago its very fragments are nearly forgotten to me
but those fragments cherished
in a single time battered photograph
her blue grey eyes haunting
this is my last road
she is heaven
i am home
robyn
Jan 2016 · 442
sailing ships painted
mark john junor Jan 2016
her mind once well groomed as a summer sky
joy interlaced with her tears
i see the enchanted waters of her hearts inner sea
sailing ships painted there so regal and powerful
they plunder the waters for its most intimate secrets
for its most fragile dreams
i see myself reflected there
all the hopes and dreams of all men
to know that stormy sea of a woman's heart
to know the intimate touch of her lips on yours
i am but a dreamer in that place
but it searches my soul to behold
that delicate flower of her heart
growing bold with her care
growing to love without thought or care
i am humbled by the truth of her
i am in awe of the strength of her
to know her kiss
to know her tender embrace
so i sail on into the night raptures of her pleasures
lost no more
found at the edge of her inner sea
i am her man
she is to me
everything
Jan 2016 · 1.0k
village road
mark john junor Jan 2016
these pale lips that so
swiftly rob me of my strength
these honey sweet lips
from which such soft words like butterfly logic
do so entangle me
and tie such aching around my very soul
with such a tight gentleness
these pale lips
that i reach over and with one finger
drawn slowly across them
i do shudder from head to toe with desires
these blue eyes
so adorned with paints
so shadowed behind lock of hair
such deep pools of hunger and light
her dream is a village road she has walked
her entire life
strewn upon its scoured bricks are
the romance notions written in french
because its a beautiful language when spoken softly
her paris clothes discarded in the dream
her skin reflecting moonlight
her lips glisten
as she walks the village road
Jan 2016 · 371
kissing sunshine
mark john junor Jan 2016
make her smile with some small thing
and i love so much the light in her eyes
make her giggle with some silly thing
and i love so the sound of her joy
her romance necklace breaks just so
she delicately wraps me up in her arms
she wants to wear me instead
tight oh so tight can feel her heartbeating against mine
feel her dissolving into me
like a warm dreamy milkshake swimmer
she lands a quick kiss
just a touch and go
touch and go she laughs wildly silly girl
so close to me i can feel her soul moving to the music
so close i can feel her heartbeat against mine
she wears me all kinds of naked and unafraid
i steal kisses all over
and she looses herself on my bare skin
touch and go
but never going far
cause shes close enough to hear
the love she feels in her heart growin
to hear the romance garden flowin
dedicated to the beautiful woman i love so deeply
Jan 2016 · 1.1k
this distant swansong
mark john junor Jan 2016
safe in the fortress of my heart
i looked out on the mysteries of my world
reveled in the complex dance of lovers united in
burning desires and passionate loves
and then i heard a distant swansong
heard a distant love affair promised behind
such lovely phrases and alluring photographs
but as the truth of it resolved itself in minds eye
i could see it failing in the crisp moonlight
i could see its painful ending that
is as sure as a rising sun
that it would leave me
in a dire thirst
a depleted soul

please pull me away from this swansong
this enticing tale
for its sweetness clings to me
its promised loveliness and beauty
are only facade for such a dark and lonely place
i will end up believing such a tale
i will fall victim to such a beautiful thought
and the swansong will be spread to yet another
lover torn from the worlds complex dance
of true beauty and love

safe in the fortress of my heart
this dire tale sweeps up against me
trying to wear me down
i call out that others should be aware
i cry out that others should see
this swansong so pretty and beguiling
is such a dark thing
i will hold out for the dawn
i will stay true to my love
and there i will breath easy a summer's day
in there i will find loves true tale
loves complex dance of passion and desire
i will once again dance happy and free
with all the other lovers wrapped in
the warmth of our passions
Jan 2016 · 1.7k
endless summer
mark john junor Jan 2016
her endless summer dream
gathers dust on its sand encrusted photo of
beach blanket love affairs

jet planes departing for distant lands
she had her five and dime sunglasses
and a transistor radio
tuned to the cheerful forever summer song
still has that picture of her in the fall of 66
hamming it up for the camera with her Stanley
he passed a while back

now she shuffles up along the seawall
with her big hat and her bags
candy for little ones
a kiss on the cheek for the nice
young man who brings the paper
its miami in febuary
its endless summer
its brighton beach's southside
and i know ill have to stay
Jan 2016 · 1.8k
pockets full of pickles
mark john junor Jan 2016
her single shot pistol is smoking as you walk in
her blushing bride smile is a dead give away
that something is amiss
he left a ballroom waltz
worth of footprints all over her smile

she persuades you to rent a buick '
and take the pursuit on the road
so the three of us head south on the us-1
to some strange beachside town
where all the girls are bubble gum machines
and the boys are paint by number boxing fans
but we finally catch the thin fatman
sitting on a beach-chair
sipping tea
and lookie-louing yachts from nantucket

she kisses and makes up with him
and you know that your romantic days are over
and she gives no reason but she got a soft spot
for his three piece suit lifestyle
brooks brothers got nothing on him
he gets his threads form the five and dime
pockets full of pickles
bread in his thinning hair
Jan 2016 · 645
raindrops on a summer day
mark john junor Jan 2016
pale as a whispered winter wind
she sat in the amber glow of the streetlight
with her cascading delicate blonde hair disheveled
her blue eyes distant
gaze out the window to the fierce winter night
between theatrical sobs spins out the tale
of her sorrows
pointing with a trembling hand at the
windswept streets
the story of a perfect love frail but pure
the story of beautiful ways and warm embraces
but along the way she had lost him
and all track of her intimate dreams
now she paints seascapes grey and foreboding
now she sketches raindrops on a summer day
Jan 2016 · 815
handwritten
mark john junor Jan 2016
but she was handwritten in a digital world
her eye fixed on jacob's sweaty ladder
because always gotta climb over the corpse of yesterday
she had the worldly sense about her
the grand sweeping gesture
to encompass all seen and all implied
to show your heart is in it for the long haul

he watched her struggle so strong
his long eyes from the fortress of his face
such iron willed bravery
she pours out the litany of reasons
like pouring out a delicate wine
threadbare clothes speak of a life of labors


the field of her heart once tilled with bountiful crop
once filled with the joyous sounds of laughter at harvest
so much ventured to come to such an end
his blackened heart has time for tales of the sun
her dreams sweep you up in their turbulent elegance
where all else that transpires is illusion
while for that brief flicker of time
you learned what it means to really live
for the first time
what its like to have your soul long for
Jan 2016 · 682
truths last soldier
mark john junor Jan 2016
in the spanish quarter
her eyes fixed on the dim light passage
as she awaits the coming hand of deceptions
with her recital of whispers like a prayer
she sweats openly
to her its a pressure point at the breaking
its a devils delight in the black heart of evil men
so as the wick of her flame clings to its purpose
as it burns true to pure
as you knew it would
you sit by her side
wait out the hours
forsake the dawn it never comes to this desolate place
forsake all trust love hope
they fled this desolate place
stand for who you are
stand for rights victory over wrong
truth even if it means your death
Jan 2016 · 477
timid heart
mark john junor Jan 2016
beheld by the timid heart with hopeful intent
any life seems both bold and beautiful
seems to be the essence of perfection
desirable and meant to be bound up with true loves gifts
but such dreams are fleeting and swiftly abandon the dreamer
leaving the coarse and the cold reality's behind
but there is the crux of it
can the dream survive the dreamer waking
can the dream stand strong in the walking worlds light of day
when i held her as that dreamer i knew her
when i awoke her beauty still filled me
when i awoke my love for her overflowed my heart
such dreams heal our souls
such dreams give life meaning
i beheld with my timid heart a beautiful dream
and when i awoke that dream was alive
and kissed me
now my heart is bold
now i live
Jan 2016 · 393
true spoken word
mark john junor Jan 2016
never before let it blossom like
roses in such fairest sunlight
he was a man of wilderness
strong and sure in his way
a creature of knowing and doing
a stranger to this game of light and shadow
of loves falsely promised and tenderness teased
of loves true touch tenderness felt in unison with another soul
a man of the hunt for wild beasts
he sought to ensnare her in traps of logic
but any fool knows there is no logic to the heart
and its romances are all she knew
such is a fiery burning bright and true to the heart romance
such is the knowing a woman's deep hearts desires
he calls out in moonlight her name
and she comes to him
and they share wild hours wrestling
body and soul
this is the true spoken word
there is no life without love
a man of the world now
no man can stand without a woman's hand
Jan 2016 · 332
summer suns
mark john junor Jan 2016
immortal in my heart
are the moments with her in my embrace
lost myself in her tender loves
her unspoiled gaze is the home iv sought
all my life
the warm seasons of my heart
belong to her
like two summer suns together we live as one
forever in the beautiful illusions
of summers everlasting days
and deep pure nights
as one we live
as one we breath
this eternal love
this gift sweet and dear
Jan 2016 · 344
time moving
mark john junor Jan 2016
time moving....
twist the words into meanings
unkempt and strange
or simple and pure
twist them till you see yourself in them
then speak them clear and loud
speak in tongues if that spins your lily's
but make sure your heard
its not weak to be silent
but it takes strength to speak
to make yourself heard above the crowd
to get your point made
time is moving....
speak your hearts greatest dreams
speak the softest moment you once shared with a lover
there is such beauty in every heart
there is such beauty in every life
you only have to find it
in moments of compassion for the down trodden
in helping hand given to strangers
in the gift of a smile
like she gave me
time is moving...
but my time to write this poem has expired
Jan 2016 · 448
the devils cold horse
mark john junor Jan 2016
the television whispers and flickers
its the only sing of life in the
thick heat of the semi-darkness
the air itself takes on a life of its own
closing in around you personal heavy confining
you speak to the empty room
just to put a tangible lapse in the silence

a sickly thin line of sunlight  
wriggles in past a rip in the curtain
and falls mutely on the ***** linoleum floor
slowly creeping across the cracks and stains
illustrating them in brilliant color
daylight slips away
silence

the devil on his cold horse
and it was that darkness which had
given birth to this grand scheme
she walks in a forest of streetlights
brushes one hand on their eternal pools of amber light
the devil on his cold horse
walks slow on the pavements by her side
leading to the overthrown cities
step into the fractured tower
and look up at the starlight sifted by clouds
isnt it pretty isnt it grand
Dec 2015 · 584
his boyish heart
mark john junor Dec 2015
the child walks down north avenue
the world around him are hues of autumn
he knows every crack and crevice of the sidewalk
he has made this trek a thousand times
home from roosevelt school in wykagyl
passing the time dreaming boyish dreams
of traveling to far away strange and wonderful places
of knowing people like her

she was as beautiful as summer sunshine
soft voice embracing the heart with her tender notions
her face fills his mind with the softest of smiles
to know someone like her
a lifetimes treasured hope

the little bridge over the stream
autumn sunlight through the tall trees
kicking his way through the fallen leaves
remembering them as they stirred of their own mind
in late summer nightfall breeze
the golden hue of these northern woods leaves now entices
his thoughts to those of halloween and christmass
to snowballs and roaring fires in the fireplace
his family home decorated and filled with laughter's joy
twinkling lights so bright and glorious

he comes to the last hill
and home
footsteps fall quickly now
to his front door
to his room and toys
hidden and happy home sweet home once again
from his window he dreams
of running in the snowfall
of tasting the first stirring of spring
a world of wonders to his boyish heart
Dec 2015 · 307
heart of our dreams
mark john junor Dec 2015
the white language of snowfall lay
perfectly still where sunshine once warmed
a shaft of light pierces the evening tide of falling snowflakes
a point of reference for the weary footfall of
the man heading home
warm sweet home
his steps retraced leave one with
the enduring feeling that this vast sea of snow
covering the ground in gentle undulation
is but a foretaste of days of cold febuary to come

the winds tugs at his hood
and cling to his heart
in this the depths of winter
as he plunders his next
footstep from the cold crisp snow
it stirs thoughts of desolation
but he can see clearly sings of life
the tracks of a small creature as
it too reached for it home and warmth
in some nest or burrow

he feels the turning tides of this nights snow
he understands the meaning of these changes
to where summer sun once stretched the days into
long comforting green beauty of vibrant life
where spring will come
to melt away the white carpet which
he lays his mind on this night
where he will dream once more of
the beautiful summer sun will grow upon him
like the embrace of a lover
like the truth of passing seasons
write their own passionate tales
with the wind and skies
with the beauty of dark and light mixed
in the heart of our dreams
Dec 2015 · 515
obscure language
mark john junor Dec 2015
a thin black silence settles over my head
not even the sound of falling snowflakes
in the semi-darkness of mid-winters night
my eyes capitulate trying not to see
the cheapened nickle plated christmas cheer
the road stretched out in into the pine forest
so near to perfection of decorative seasonal lights and toys
so rudely packed tightly into the open mouth
of wailing babes

her pale face painted
with expressions fleeting
joy flickers past sorrow
intense thoughts like shadows cross her eyes
but her words blunder along
crept up against stone wall and without effort
she makes her way past
to center herself in my heart

singular thought comes to me
as the sun's shadow creeps across my eyes
written there in obscure language
christmas wishes and dandelions in summer sun
all the very best of our world wrapped up in one
Dec 2015 · 436
a soulsong
mark john junor Dec 2015
the clean face of morning
with its strong wind speaking
and tidal wave of clouds
flying slowly across the brilliant blue skies
my heart sings a song to me
of freedoms sweet taste
of youth long past remembered vividly
chasing firefly's in the dusk
romancing a girl under the stretch of stars glowing
this day i have lost myself in natures truths
this day i hear the soulsong that gives itself
to any open heart
in the night sky
breathing the first touch of dawn
its incredible beauty a heartbeat away
from loves enduring flame
Dec 2015 · 670
a heaven struggling
mark john junor Dec 2015
the shifting pattern of smoky sunshine
in the leaves brightly green in the light overhead
make a soft sound in the edge of a warm breeze
breath it in and taste its freshness
with your minds eye

my hand moves in the blades of grass
they turn aside with ease and leave behind
a trace of memory in fingertips

my eyes slowly wander the littered lawn
each piece of paper and plastic holds its own shadow
each tell a tale
of carnival sounds and laughing couples
of city place unkempt and sour with graffiti
shell of nature walled in and fenced
trapped by mankinds vision of an island of green
within these walls of concrete
and curtailed from leaving the borders of this place
only its birds fly free

there where the rose bush struggles for life
by the heavy stone wall
in its dirt shadow i lay down
close my eyes open my heart
to the rhythm of its living
this place seems eternal
a island of green in the vast sea of grey concrete
this place is a heaven struggling to be
a valley of beauty in among mountains of cold steel
i see it all behind my closed eyes
iv seen it all in a dream
Dec 2015 · 337
beautiful loves
mark john junor Dec 2015
feather light i drift in a dream
feel the sun's breath on my face
floating eternal upon warm summer breeze
forever between dusk and first light
the sweetest sense of reality reflected in minds eye
where i find the shopping cart in parking lot
the scattering of cracks in the pavement paints
a masterpiece of loves and loss
hearts born to passions of desires flame
and those who sit in wicked darkness and
nurse the dying light of beautiful loves lost
feather light i drift in this place
feel the moon's compassionate light on my face
for the moon sees all these dreams
and holds us to its warm heart
keeps us from being alone in the night
wake now all you dreamers
dawn approaches
and our dreams must stop
till dusk comes again and unites us in beautiful loves
Dec 2015 · 498
my tender dream
mark john junor Dec 2015
breath on...breath on for me my love
softly for me
hope on for me
because your more than a dream to me
your more than a flickering face in the distance
your the cradle of loves enduring fire
the  birth of feeling something beautiful

the red wine
slips slowly thru her fingers
its sticky thickness clings to her eye
and it feels like belonging
it feels like bright and warm
feels like desire and freedom
to her weary mouth
as she tastes it
hard metal taste like copper
red wine fills her
and flows

where are you tonight

without loves fire life has no meaning
without the gift of being held gently by loves sweet arms
i live for your tender embrace
i live to cradle you in my arms once again
to breath softly in unison with you body and spirit
my sweet love
my tender dream
Dec 2015 · 289
cold mountains
mark john junor Dec 2015
i had rode all night
i was weary to my soul
and there was no end in sight
the mountain cold had me by the bones

she was there in her finest dress
she was there like a rough diamond
perilous and strange
with her wicked smile she said that her friend
would be joining us for our festivities
i knew right off that i would regret knowin her
but she has a way about her
that is worse than poisonous
cause she will leave you thanking her
as she murders poor you

in need of some rest i settled in and closed my eyes
thinking she would not make her move till she was sure
foolish child let down my guard
she got the jewels and the loose coins
she would have had it all
but just as she would have sunk the blade
the sunrise exposed her for the monster she is

so i set out when i was able
to southern paradise with a young honey
and saved myself from her cold hand
but i still think of her
and that inhuman cold i saw in her eye
how can somebody can live that way ill never know
for that i thank the good lord
labor in the sun
to make myself a new home
far away from the tomb of her heart
up there in the cold mountains
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