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mark john junor Dec 2015
her lucid moments
while dozen starlings take flight
they sweep up into the free wind from pavement
scattered by careless child at some game
they roll in turbulent air
and gift the new born day with melodies sweet enough
to lull even this madwoman's mind

i cant even find my way out of the
dark puzzle pattern of her eyes
all the arranged pieces like tin soldiers
poised just so in the thunder of war
for romantic effect

the things we never speak of
and the novels our hearts weave
are worlds apart
the sunlight reflected as the day wanes
the thoughts held near and dear
we bring out of their hidden box
like trappings of a secret life
costumes we try on in the secret of night
masks we all wear to hide the truth
from ourselves
Dec 2015 · 683
skies in turmoil
mark john junor Dec 2015
far out to sea
deep in wild woods
in the crisp dawn on the high desert
there are still places it can be heard
but it takes a heart to hear
it takes a labor of love

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

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 burns
Dec 2015 · 591
shifting sands
mark john junor Dec 2015
a viper in the garden
moves with intent and stealth
a shadow in moonlight
this is my gravestone
cold and grey
chiseled with name and testament
overgrown with weeds and grass
leaning like a leaf in a wind
low to the earth
thick with aroma of the natural world

small holes in the tapestry of my life
the viper has wormed his way into the colors there
mixed his toxic blood with her pure loves
swift is his nature
dire are his eyes
this is the swan song never before uttered
this is the last chapter never written
small holes in the tapestry
life long obsession
with the one truth never attained
in her eyes
a viper in the garden
and seeing him there i knew
that the truth had eluded me

as a young man i had thought to dream
and nourished that dream until it was a
beautiful garden  
where waiting for me was the truth of me
that i was born to find her
and to love ever after
but as with all men comes the world
comes the truth of our lives
a viper in the garden has taken away my dream
small holes in the tapestry of my life
let slip the moonlight
that peppers my gravestone
cold and grey
where the viper rests this night
sated by its dark vision
Dec 2015 · 438
speaking quiet dreams
mark john junor Dec 2015
a girl leaning on a post
her lips carve poems in december air
sunlight surrounds her like a song
i watch her from the window
entranced by knowledge of her soft soul

she is speaking quiet dreams
into golden sunlight
the softer lines of her form painted
in sharply bright colors
bluejeans tightly round her
hands stuffed in pockets
the jewels of her gaze
twin and soft
looking into the distant thoughts
that her heart feels

a winters day
and the warm crisp air
reminds of summer
filled with songbirds and breeze
filled with promise and intent
that spring will come
that her poem will be written in
summer skies once again
for Robyn C.
Dec 2015 · 442
winter calls me
mark john junor Dec 2015
winter calls me
ease into the walking away
maybe it'll all have meaning someday
maybe it will all be clear to me
when iv found the home iv searched for all these years

i can watch the snowflakes fall
spiral round and down
intermittent feelings bring me back
winter calls me so quietly
that its sound is no more than a soft kiss in my ear
it says to leave a trail behind me
move forward and know that there is no knowing tomorrow
till it comes
there is no knowing how much holding hands means
till its gone

winter calls me
and i reply
ever so softly i tell quick stories in poem form
ever so quietly i speak to the heart
winter calls me
and i loose myself in its dreaming
look back and see the trail i took
to get here to find
winter calls me
a soft kiss in my ear
Dec 2015 · 478
your hearts door
mark john junor Dec 2015
in nightfall's grey hour
look intently into the reflection
peer into the face looking back at me
trying to find the flaw in the heart of that stranger i see
seeking to mend what cannot be
if you look within you will never see
what is and what should be

rain infects the last of the daylight
and i walk out into it raise my face to the heavens
cleanse the soul of guilt and pain
from the evil that you refrained
from deed that would have stained
if you look within to see broken dreams that have remained
look within will leave you insane

night has come
darkness will hide you
tears will obscure
what you really should be living for
light kiss upon the tender thought before
and you will find what love really is to your core
mend this heartache you dream to see what is in store
there is a tender true love that awaits for
you to open your hearts door
Dec 2015 · 646
to the magical mind
mark john junor Dec 2015
my empty hands sprawled
the healers of magical minds watch intently
as i rush to speak all my madness thoughts
as i spill the visions and voices that come to me in the night
they pour out onto the madhouse floor
stained like blood red wine
sharp taste to the minds electric eye
wrap tin foil around your fingers when you type
lest the alien signature machine sees you in a dream

the healers of a magical mind
tell you of reality that you cannot see
they give you small pills to make it all better
to soak up all the fears
your magic mind speaks inside your ear
tells you not to swallow the pills
that they make your face look funny in the mirror
that they control you with secret machines
in magazines

sit on the bare floor
straight jacket wrapped warmly around you like loving arms
and watch the cursed moon rise neath the clouds
sing in a whisper to the voices in your head
your eyes wide open
to the magical mind
Dec 2015 · 387
the best of our yesterdays
mark john junor Dec 2015
the best of my yesterdays
is where i sleep
the smile that returns to me
is from the loves i knew
the sunlight a little crisper
the joy a little clearer
when i was a young man
in those years ago

look back
and see with clarity
all i know now
and all i thought i knew in my yesterdays
wisdom written on a new page
but to look back and read what was written
is to know the man behind the face in the mirror
is to know the child i once was

my heart traces
the the road i have traveled
the loves i have known
picture book of faces and times long past
we all linger there from time to time
recall the best and worst
recall world we made in this life
the best of our yesterdays
the person behind the image in the mirror
Nov 2015 · 688
a rain waters mile
mark john junor Nov 2015
the sound of approaching horsemen
thunders in the dry spaces of my mind
they are so loud i cannot stand it
deep waters run swift
and the thoughts that run there are bittersweet
humble me kneeling before that open gaze
before that terrible birthright
a mask of soft steel
eyes encroaching on my steadfast heart
with a terrible pounding of horses
that leaves no space for thought
leaves no breath to the dreams of my soul
lay gasping on a cold winters shore
knowing the sea and its treacherous waves
i walk the rain waters mile just to hear your voice again
i swim the deep places of the heart just to kiss your lips again
this is the place where i hold your soft hand in mine
sing to you in a whisper
songs of finding a hearts treasure
songs of getting lost in warmth and beautiful eyes
help me find you again
in the deep rushing thundering approach
of these wild and free horses
Nov 2015 · 386
dance of winters hand
mark john junor Nov 2015
the leaves turn as they fall
twisting on the breeze in a
dance of winters hand on my world
hurry along the path
each footfall scattering the leaves with a
dry rasping sound

winter cold the air harshly grasps at me
as landscape spread in brilliant white snowfall
makes a trial of this inevitable trek in morning light
my books and papers heavy if only in a worrying mind
scrawled there the first words of poetic heart
ill defined the weight of the matter at hand  
joyful poems of a true beauty lover
and my desire for her affections
this itself is the rub
winters hand
cannot write a warm thought

now all these years and poems later
my eyes open
my heart hearing
this new winters day fades into view
and still i struggle to cross the snowbound landscape
with the weight of a thousand words
with the self deception of a young heart believing
the promise of warm loves where hope springs eternal

the leaves turn
dance of winters hand on my world
Nov 2015 · 684
empty room disease
mark john junor Nov 2015
this whole empty room thing
will be the death of me
cant stand another day of the echoing darkness
mocking my every word
spoken softly with tired lips
bleed me slow of ideas
watch it all circle the drain

this whole empty room thing
all the people said it would be so good for me
all the people thought what a vacation
from all those dark and ***** deeds
all those love poems full of poison

this empty room disease
crawling in my heart
have i given up
has the world forgotten me
there will be no rescue
there will be no sunshine day to come
no sweetest smile to save me

this empty room
silent all these years
filled with words i cant take back
filled with faces leaving
full of faces leaving
leaving
Nov 2015 · 764
like lovers do
mark john junor Nov 2015
for a brief moment
caught in remembering
vividly she came back to me
the sunlight on her face
strands of her reddish blonde hair
floating free in the small space between us

what words passed between us
long since faded
but the heart remembers the love
known between us that day
with a clarity that speaks so clearly to me
the heart knows what the mind fails to hear

and my heart still speaks of you to me
still sketches your beautiful face in my dreams
in such sweet living breathing quality
i cannot help but feel that i lost a world of love
when i lost you

your hand in mine
our souls still linger in each others arms
kissing tenderly and passionately like lovers do
at least that is what my heart tells me
Nov 2015 · 351
sea stories
mark john junor Nov 2015
sepia paintings of days long since gone
the rattle of a shopping cart at two am
the sounds of leaves stirred by wind in the
golden glow of streetlight
the close smell of the car my mother drove
the oil and vegetables
perfume and cigarettes

the summer sunlight shattered to
pinpoints on the lakes water
its warm liquid spills slowly over the toes
of laughing children eating sandwiches

lantern held up in the deep wood
the path dispersed in the shadows dancing
each gravel stone that scatters underfoot
each windswept hour spent retracing our lives
passed with incredible clarity

prison of memory
rattle the cage seeking attention of the jailer
plunder what moments he gives
what crumbs fall from his full table
he chews loudly at the meat of your mind
clean shaven his robust frame stuffed into the tight uniform
his keys replay the songs of freedom to the ear
his meaty fist inked with brutality
there is no soul in his gaze

remember me
so that i can say that i left some mark on this world
remember our laughter that sang out into summer night
our hands entwined in the warmth of our hearts
so that what i leave behind is true to my heart

the dry lips of spoken poems
leave this dreamer
with a heart full of words
Nov 2015 · 375
beauty in a box
mark john junor Nov 2015
beauty in a box
look at her blush
we dream little foolish dreams of her
she just smiles and asks for coins
her hair dyed blue and silver
her eyes dyed green

her pouting lips curl
at the trash mouth who talks in such little letters
you rebound with compliments and roses
little gestures she gets all the day long
little men in camera frame
dark ones and bright eyed sultry ones
tumble out onto her soft bed
like clowns falling from their miniature car
see them laugh see them cry
all little men come calling roses in hand

beauty in a box
watch her rattle round
comes close to the camera
kisses blown soft velvet and neat
her laugh tenderly in my ear
i linger in her eyes and see sunlight there
Nov 2015 · 730
beautiful dreamers
mark john junor Nov 2015
six am and darkness still prevails
her casual morning disheveled shuffle to the coffee
still beautiful to me
and so entranced i loose myself in thought
come up behind her in the mirror
and brush my lips along her neck
she smiles and teases with a laugh

we chat over our breakfast about
the day now breaking silently outside the open window
a slight autumn breeze tickles us
as our dog chases shadows in the yard
the whole world seems to be waiting for
the brilliant bright sunlight to stream over the edge
of the world

her dreadlocks woven with beads
scented with roses
i run my fingers lightly along one by her ear
then trace the delicate line of her earlobe
i am intoxicated by her everything
i am in love with her
body and mind
soul and heart

each day is a gift
each smile a world of love
i have waited a lifetime to be here
and each and every moment has made that wait worth it
this is living
this beautiful world between us
shared only by our two souls
entranced and entangled
beautiful dreamers lost in a beautiful dream
mark john junor Nov 2015
the pornographic nature of poetry
freaks my head with images and wordplay
i adore it so
like a lover i cannot stop feasting on
my lips caress each syllable like *******
my heart rushes like the first glimpse of her face
thunders in my chest like each stanza in my hearts mind

the pornographic nature of poetry
silken smooth and sweaty
hard against the pen
pushing it forward fast
slowly withdrawing
each breath is a vow of love everlasting
each sentence is a heartbeat
feel it so strong
swift and sweet

the pornographic nature of poetry
i wake in dawns light
with it on my lips
a taste of the words so tender
a rushing of the soul to find the very center of my lovers heart
feel it in the brush strokes of the pen
as it scrabbles across the neat lines of the page
thrusting ever forward to the perfection
to the true expression
to the words that my lover smiles for
the pornographic nature of poetry
lurid and sweet
nurturing and deep
Nov 2015 · 341
photograph torture
mark john junor Nov 2015
visions of what could have been
tempt my thoughts into such dreams
****** my heart into such longings
leave the sails of my vessel to the taint of dark winds
but still she shines in my thought dreams
so vivid and clear

from the photograph
i delve into her image with my mind
can taste her scent on my lips
her warmth fills me
her glossy lips entangle me
release me from lingering here
this dark endless wishing on what could have been
this photograph torture

before she turned away
she had paused
in that brief sliver of time
my heart had captured this image
this perfection
this utter truth
this box of wonders i trap myself
this place where the taste of her lips lingers
Nov 2015 · 1.3k
freckles
mark john junor Nov 2015
gone into the deepest part
of summer sunshine
where i was blinded to my own heart
all that i have whispered to the darkest of night
hoping to hear answers unique

desperation has no cure
except in the mirror of the minds eye
where the wet soul hungers for light
where the better angels of loves delight wait
like brides to be on wedding mornings
the day dancing before them in beautiful eyes

wait now for the words to come
as easy as they once did
as right as rain
soft wet warm

i have gone into that deepest part of
summer sunshine
i found it while brushing my lips
across the freckles on her shoulder
like a roadmap to heaven
tasting of such bedroom intents
soothing the soul like a dark wine
in moonlight

i have gone into the deepest part
of summer sunshine many times before
lost there in the sweetest moments of deranged thought
where there is no fear
where there is no tears
only the whisper of my lips
on the freckles of her shoulder
Nov 2015 · 314
whirlwind
mark john junor Nov 2015
her face is what my heart paints into
this whirlwind of conflicting images
her velvet voice just within perception beneath wild wind
calling my name with reassurance and empathy
intensity of the night tries again and again to overwhelm
but the grainy vision of my confusions cannot withstand
fragments shatter and her intent sweet and sure shines into my eyes

brittle stone that i lay my head on
while rain soaks the woods around me
pieces of sky seen through canopy of leaves
rushing torrent of clouds
shades of grey
my pale mind grasps at swift thought
like reaching for a ghost
droplets of rain gather in the palm of my hand
slowly pooling there cold and indifferent
swallow them whole bitter and smooth

dusk finds me walking slowly in the woods
without path or direction
admire the madness
question the sky in mumbled phrase
my body inked with the tread of darkness encroaching
seek patterns there like gifts of sweet thought
jumble them till they will play out like
a hopeful dream
a promised heaven on this dark earth

night finds me standing at the edge
of the football field in the drenching rain
in the utter darkness of solitude
my mind speaks loudly at me
gestures animated with images distraught and disturbing
so loud in my head i cannot scream
in some inner corner of me
i wait silent vigil holding hopes light up against
this dark of night

dawn finds me at long last
curled up under a tree
sleep wrapping me in warm tender bliss
i have survived the worst of it
a trail home lay before me
laid out with the clarity that her open and warm heart
had gifted me
sleep now be at ease
she waits for you
she waits for you
Nov 2015 · 486
plaster wall
mark john junor Nov 2015
distant television noise
echoes down the hallway
distorted
fragile
softly penetrating like warm rain
covering the senses thick with trepidation

she sips the cold water
with dry lips
her hand brushing her hair back constantly
like a nervous tick
you can taste the miles traveled in her eyes
her ragged breathing comes close to me
nestles in my ear
and makes my thoughts twist

i lean into the hard plaster wall
the chipped paint ***** with fingerprints
my heart hanging on the nail deeply driven into it
cluster of imperfections surrounding
distorted by the lamp light
appear man made
but are really the implications of madness
teasing the mind with disturbing thoughts
Nov 2015 · 554
snowbound embrace
mark john junor Nov 2015
a snow filled winter wind rushes in my thoughts
but it is in the silence between our spoken words
where my heart caresses each line of her beauty
and swims in the heat of her eyes entwined in mine
where her heart desires mine
where spoken truths are just a
reflection of the deeper fires of our souls
and that ultimate truth expressed in our passionate embrace
becomes the living breathing of our souls

a snow filled winter wind drifts past the window
but like the world itself
seems so distant from us
cradled in my arms
the fabric of her clothes sweetly perfumed
dance tingling across my senses
her soft breath exhaled dizzying to my heart
her words soft warm wet fill my head

a snow filled winter wind
steady against a cloud soaked sky
spills into the very edge of my mind
as the comfort and beauty of our embrace endures
this is the truth i have sought my entire life
this is the promise that i so deeply desired
her eyes capture me and for a moment we sit gazing
we have saved us
we have found us
and the love and heat of our embrace
keeps the winter wind awaya snow filled winter wind rushes in my thoughts
but it is in the silence between our spoken words
where my heart caresses each line of her beauty
and swims in the heat of her eyes entwined in mine
where her heart desires mine
where spoken truths are just a
reflection of the deeper fires of our souls
and that ultimate truth expressed in our passionate embrace
becomes the living breathing of our souls

a snow filled winter wind drifts past the window
but like the world itself
seems so distant from us
cradled in my arms
the fabric of her clothes sweetly perfumed
dance tingling across my senses
her soft breath exhaled dizzying to my heart
her words soft warm wet fill my head

a snow filled winter wind
steady against a cloud soaked sky
spills into the very edge of my mind
as the comfort and beauty of our embrace endures
this is the truth i have sought my entire life
this is the promise that i so deeply desired
her eyes capture me and for a moment we sit gazing
we have saved eachother
we have found eachother
and the love and heat of our embrace
keeps the winter wind away
Nov 2015 · 584
shallow water
mark john junor Nov 2015
shallow water reflections
light pouring over wood floor
seeping slowly over the clock
crisp notes of music cleanly flow
like whisps of firelight in the
cool close comfort of star filled night
the hearts gravity recalls the scent of a lover
the hearts child wanders the memory
simple lines spoken are the most complicated thoughts
and here in this unchanged room
the waiting is allways filled with faces
allways slow
the light that shines is cool white bulbs
has none of the depth of sunlight scattering slowly

daydream drift
the golden hue of her face
each thought peeled slowly from the grasp
each emotional tide moving in the moonlight mind
rushes out to a deep sea
a lost man adrift in the currents
of these strange days


shallow water reflections
each salt water kiss
each warm to the souls touch sandy beach
where stray grains catch in her unkempt hair
the clouds above horizon to horizon grey
swift breeze stirs a moment
then fades into the rustling fabric of leaves in the trees
a bird in its winged gait stumbles across the lawn
its shadow follows
cutting across the grass
Nov 2015 · 680
devilish ideals
mark john junor Nov 2015
the heavy winter air lingers
into the night
starlight drifts slowly like snowflakes
in my heartfelt dreams
a displaced man in the sea of wet snow
her eyes cast at me devilish ideals
her lips painted pink wet allure
disheveled hair falls limply over her face
obscuring the expression there
muffling the words that have slipped out

the snow filled air entangles the night
falling all around like leaves in the height of autumn
her warm hand runs along the edge of my jawline
fingertips like voices speaking treasured gifts
touching nimble and quick
along the mask of my years
grey has seeped into the story
has painted its own landscape on my visage

she withholds her thought
trembling
waiting for my heart to speak to her
waiting for my hand to guide
i coax her phrase like drawing a lost child to its home
i draw her near
and in her bedroom sweat i trace my own line of thought
i breath in her soft silken taste
her soft line perfections etched against the cool fabric of sleep
she has drifted off to dreamland
leaving me to whisper thoughts
leaving me with her love utterances clearly spoken
the snow hits the window
slowly building at that edge of our existence
silently compounding its presence in my mind
a dog of war leashed by the absolute solitude of night
Nov 2015 · 441
a single dusty tear
mark john junor Nov 2015
template of the hearts crying rage
fills the filthy page
her eyes once spoke to me loving embrace
but silent dust cowers in that empty space
i call to ancient heavens for aid
but the rusty deadpan song is only replayed
my fingers stiffly crawl against the lewd and angry wall
picture perfect painted there is my only care
release me from this moment ever present in my heart
tombstone and funeral cart scented with roses
once reclined in september sunshine
this twisting darkness is mine

barren eyes broken
lifeless words spoken
sequel to minds crashing inner thunder
burst into tears like a misbegotten blunder
trembling fingers expose
hearts rose entwined with darkness
once bright days shown in memory
when dark wind has blown it to dust

this face i paint with dark words
this sketch with miseries taint
this is where dreams have left me
deft fingers draw new hopes on dying page
years spent gazing into hearts fertile soil
only to have deepest dreams foiled
dry not the tears long ago fallen
hear the song dry wicked grey calling

she sleeps
i weep
Nov 2015 · 627
tricycle broken and burning
mark john junor Nov 2015
a slow slipping into the dark abyss of thinking
such dark wicked thought twists
on the vines overgrowing the living breathing edge of perception
its hard white metal edge baking in ever present sunlight
like wine i am a drunkard of the softest touch
i am a ***** to the sweetest line
master of none...fool for some
its all a memory a moment after it happened
so why am i so glued to the window paine
staring into the brief bright glitter of passing time
staring into the abyss

her eyes slowly scattered across my form
as her words escaping in rapid succession
splatter the cold tile like breadcrumbs for the miserable beast
the trail of which is lewd in my mind like razors
her reservations slip back into her lips past thick gloss
her dire predictions limp hollow into the
heavy thick humid florida air
laughing like a mad mad woman
like a mad mad man

teeth gritted and hands contorted to the form
of the pill bottle long empty
the headache has returned to her lips
spew itself across the dim room
leaving splashes of hand wrought pain
leaving traces of hand carved memories
her tricycle broken and burning
her doll sitting in darkness
she weeps
i sleep
Nov 2015 · 517
a conspiracy of lusts
mark john junor Nov 2015
center of my soul
down there in the wet hot sandy soils
down there where the black dog digs
her claws furiously tearing at the thick grainy clumps

center of my soul
an inescapable silence clouds my thoughts
like her deep eyes lingering on my open face
like her words seeping slowly across the hard wet breeze

soft finger traces figurines into the damp frosting
in the bathroom mirror
a tactile thought
a brief pinpoint of light in the darkness of her embrace
her soft tangle of skin wraps itself across the surface of me
i feel her moisture and her warmth
texture of crumpled paper burning
texture of a smoke filled room
texture of a person who allready left

joined in a single moment
by a conspiracy of lusts
joined slowly in this dark touching
united in that quick heat of wanting

never seen in her face
never hoped in my closed eyed dreaming
the silence slips slowly past our window
it is everywhere
in the damp morning grass
in the temple of night
surpassed in the vault of morning light
Nov 2015 · 627
september leaves
mark john junor Nov 2015
silence slowly settles around me like a warm blanket
buckets of sunlight spill thru the torn clouds
my september mind wanders its backwoods dream
masters each slow footfall imprinted on the soft textured ground
my path clearly carved into my minds fading yesterday thoughts
never quiet except in the soft kiss of warm humid breeze

we stood there
in the darkness
holding hands
your fingers moved ever so gently in my stiff grip
you knew the track and taste of my world
your words echo there without the
image reminding me of childhoods sails of a stormy sea

now you look into my eyes
without a word
you see me
Jun 2015 · 815
steady rain
mark john junor Jun 2015
she gets nervous when a steady rain breaks out
he eyes jet across the grey sky
as her fingers grip a stranglehold on her
lace dreams
the rain cools the summer day
releasing its wet magics
to pool in the shallows
quiet in her revere she mumbles madness at the
sharp edge of afternoon
forlorn she wails in silent apocalypse
at the torn things that could have been
at the tattered flag of empire
which she grew up believing in
her sorrow knows no bounds
as her kinship to the trespassing moon knows no love
she will wait out the rain
hoping to heal
but knowing that only time passes
all else waits to be resolved in the crucible of dreams
the rain begins to ease
its liquid sound kissing the ear
as she moves into the remains of sunlight
she will survive
and so will her tears
Jun 2015 · 580
angry old man
mark john junor Jun 2015
the quiet angry man
with all his jack in the box surprises
and his lonely heart songs
what lust consumes his dreams
what solace would end his crisis
his is a tale of two lives
his own and the one others would have him lead
his is a tale of two worlds
his own and the one he perceives
how can he reconcile his angers with
the peaceful world around him
would medications do the trick
would a woman's love
angry old man
striding slowly along the roads edge
balancing on the cusp
of his world and the next
Jun 2015 · 531
stories on tv
mark john junor Jun 2015
there are monsters out there
see them on tv
people killing people
people doing unspeakable things
and they make entertainment shows
with the stories of human monsters and the terrible things they do
make epic movies about it
maybe there would be less monsters in our world
if we didn't celebrate them
if we didn't have ten shows on television about killing
if there weren't all this glorification of death
maybe we should celebrate saving lives instead of taking them
find a way to celebrate beauty not death
May 2015 · 758
dance the summer day
mark john junor May 2015
long day shuffling back n forth
long day of seeing nothing but clouds
with dancing free on my mind
with dancing itching my feet
i want joy
i want to feel the wind in my hair
but i got a long day here
in the hot weeds
wont you ease my headache
wont you ease my weary mind
tell me the news
tell me whats a cookin in that beautiful heart of yours
show me the way home
lets dance together in the falling rain
and see the rainbows shatter on the morning sky
wont you show me the way home
show me the way to the beautiful dreams
lets dance the summer day
lets dance moonlight in each others arms
i want joy
feel the summer wind in my hair
but i got this long hour in the the hot weeds
waiting for you to rescue me
waiting to dance
May 2015 · 702
the peaceful way
mark john junor May 2015
pickin and singin with my good ole boys
what laughing we got we share
a song of the peaceful way
a song of the beautiful day
rich tapestry of song to be taken with such tender care
history behind each note'
a smile behind every lyric
listen to it dance in your heart
listen to it do its dance in your dreams
you know i got me a tune for every brother and sister
you know i got me a hippie song for everyone
let me share it with you
a song of the peaceful way
a song of the beautiful day
lets dance together with care in our hearts
lets find what a living thing this peaceful way is
what a wonderful way it should be
its a beautiful life this hippie thing
its a giving thing
its the only way to live
let me share it with all you now
let me sing you my little song
let me strike up a tune that you will see with your heart
a song of the peaceful way
a song of the beautiful day
May 2015 · 457
heart pure to the intent
mark john junor May 2015
she was down in the shadows
and there was nobody there to cry to
she just wandered the cool night
with a flare for the dramatic and a vision of the wild sea
i stood there on the sandy beach
my arms full of gifts of yesterdays funeral pyre
and a head full of dreams of her
she gave me five pieces of paper
each one was written in a strangers hand
each had despair written in invisible illustration
but i couldn't leave her that way
i had to help her
no matter the cost
money is clean if the heart is pure to the intent
sweet paradise can be if your in the right state of mind
she came down to the store
and with smiles in her hand
she shook me loose from my apologies
and with a grin she started to dance
with a grin she gave up the darkness
and in the night i found my voice
and so the flames of my words found the lovin dawn
turn to the darkness no more fair child
is what i said to her
no matter the cost
dance in the light
if your heart is pure to the intent
May 2015 · 475
unseasonal rain
mark john junor May 2015
out of season rain
falls steady on my roof
its pattern on the slate walkway is a confusion of circles
birds continue to sing
cars continue to speed by
it is only i that has ground to a halt by this
gentle downpour
rainy season isnt supposed to be here yet
so why have you clogged my day
with your wet bedraggled deluge
away with you rain
away with you
May 2015 · 887
optional titles
mark john junor May 2015
how do you feel
lost and alone at the end of your dime
someplace on the road between the here and the now
out of smokes and outa luck
barefaced to the carnival of night
the day passes slowly into the vastness of the past
hungry eyes puddled with traces of regret
for all the places you've been and think you belong
for all the treasures of the past yet to be plundered
and all the sweetness to which your heart has succumb
convinced of the need to find a home
a place to breath easy
you take a few tentative steps to the road
in hopes of finding its easier than it seems
to kickstart your old bones
and write a new tale for you to sing
how do you feel down here at the end of your last dime
finger-licking good or foretastes of gloom
waiting here for the prize you know aint comin'
waiting here for the explanation you aint buyin'
thin and looking a little like a ghost
see you on the other side
May 2015 · 527
carpet of dreams
mark john junor May 2015
like a carpet of dreams
woven from the purest hearts
stitched with the tenderest notions
only dreamers who are sweetly guided by
their inner truth could tread in her heart
her golden light dreamscape fraught with her desire for beauty
with her need for love's true dream
with her heart's lovingly crafted magical hope chest
where she has keepsakes of every lover she has known
where she keeps a smile from every friend she was blessed with
where she keeps a carpet of dreams
that she dances on in moonlight
May 2015 · 399
young man
mark john junor May 2015
so easy to believe
so easy to write it all off as illusion
so easy to bury head in the sand
and wish it all away
but that's the tragic tale

i was a young man
so full of strife and never wondered why
knowing the hammer strike would solve
never looked to see beyond what my fists could do
after all i would live forever
and i knew all the answers had all the secrets
all the summer bright day
the world was mine
and i breathed easy never considering
but time changes everything

knowin' is the key
seeing is believing
and you cant deny what is in your hand
fistful of angers or the open heart of wanting
wanting a better life
wanting a better world
now i'm an old man
and my hand isn't a fist anymore
cause the hard lesson learned
cause the hard road traveled
mark john junor May 2015
old man feeding the birds
he stands slightly bent as he casts
down the bits of bread
that the birds milling around his feet
devour with soulless eyes
he casts each piece like a sacrament
like an uttered prayer
his large brown coat soiled by winter
now hangs on his springtime frame

old man with his bag in hand
walks slowly along the fence line
the rubber of his shoe squeaking like a
small animal
he is amused by the thought
he feeds the birds once again
after all that is what old men do
they die slowly and they feed birds
they walk in silence like a tomb
casting bread upon the waters
like a prayer

old man feeding the birds
what old man dose not dream of younger women
what old man dose not wish he was young again
so the birds feed upon his dying wish
with soulless eyes
watch him walk into the city of night
with nothing but his loaf of bread
and a newspaper full of yesterdays stories
walking the fence line between heaven and hell
on his way to feed the birds
Apr 2015 · 545
to cook my head
mark john junor Apr 2015
it was hot
makes you feel spent just breathin'
but she was comfortable as judas in hades
just like ice cool in the shade
you shout and dance about with all this jealousy
you are electric hot under the collar
but the winds are blowing in her favor
but the rivers are sweet on her lips
it was hot as death warmed over
not an ounce of inked shade to be had
and you got issues hounding your thoughts
beginning to feel like its a church to the
apostle's of rage
darken your horizons with her
like the universe is her little game
the wind walks its ignorant gesture across you
and that just fans the flames
after all she just acknowledged her divinity
its hot enough to cook my head
but you are wrapped tighter than a prisoner
all used up and jealous
key to surviving this day lay in her eyes
in them you see your forgiven soul
in them you see your salvation's way
if you can forgive yourself first
if you can grow that fast
Apr 2015 · 764
fistful of snakes
mark john junor Apr 2015
she suffered in silence
the inglorious dirt of rumor
as she tried unweave the web it wraps round her
far from being willing to live this way
the lies and the stink of deception settle in
but she keeps struggling against the tide
she is a sweet beauty incongruous
the late day clouds roll in
and she casts a weary glance at the troubled skies
trouble enough on my own
don't need another fistful of snakes
but deep down inside she knew she could handle
another dark day
long as there is the bright promise of someday
and as the rain and stink of decay settles in
she rises above like she always dose
people will always talk
spite is a hunger that is never sated
jealousy is a disease that has no cure
she suffered in silence
the inglorious dirt of rumor
but she is made of better steel
and this will never break the likes of her
and as she unweaves the web of lies
she feels stronger with the knowledge that she will win
Apr 2015 · 290
two women
mark john junor Apr 2015
the two women sit in
absolute silence
worlds apart in the small room
they look at the polished wooden floor
and wait
she shifts in her seat
nervously looking at her watch
while the other woman plays on her phone
each had taken time to be here
each had a role to play in this daydream
she gets up
and like an obscene gesture walks to the door
a thousand eyes film her as she leaves the silent room
a thousand wishes embrace her as she leaves the silent room
the other woman flinches back into
the confines of her chair
and puts away her phone
she glares at the door
wishing for the courage to escape
knowing nothing would try to stop her
except her own fear
two women sat in absolute silence
only the younger fled
the older woman trapped by her own mind
waits for rescue that may never come
the mind is a dangerous place to wander
too easy to become lost in its maze of reality
she waits there
Apr 2015 · 735
cowboy's crux
mark john junor Apr 2015
a cooler breeze
takes the edge off the south florida heat haze
lizards and shallow drinkers keep you company
on your front porch in the night
a fiesta of lights moves slowly by
an old mans toothless grin and the never ending party
you call it mercy to have all these friends
but as you sink they just keep toasting the queen
that cooler breeze entertains your hair and
scatters the plastic baubles she saved for you
as she absently sweeps up bits of dust
and waits for her someday
there is the crux of it
cause her plans don't include washed up cowboys
or the ragtag company they keep
for pieces of loose change you gamble away
all those hard to face burning desires
you just keep your cards close
and bet to win
dawn filters in humid as breathing water
and she slings another drink to you
as the tropical sunrise really gets moving
she gives you your plastic baubles and a raincoat
kisses you on the cheek
wishes you goodnight
and floats away on the cooler florida breeze
Apr 2015 · 877
road man
mark john junor Apr 2015
all teeth and eyes
the road-man wears diesel and grease
he wears leather and jeans
his is the hard life
but he lives it like no other
the road-man is a mouthful of bullets and bones
and his eyes are dust and gravel
his motorbike's engine growls like a living thing
its pipes shine in the unforgiving sun
it runs the road like lightening
the road-man is a creature of the
high desert road
where dust devils and snakes crawl the
unforgiving landscape
he is a hard man to know
has not much to say
but you will never meet another man
so ready to lay it on the line
so ready to face the burning road
a dying breed
mark john junor Apr 2015
there were lights blazing to the east
but her eyes were fixed to the west
someplace out in that darkness he rode into the night
with his gun in hand to regulate the doubters
she lay in the aftermath of the gunfight
with her cards and flowers
wondering where she had gone so wrong
wondering if she would ever get that white picket fence
with the two kids and all the fixins of her dreams
dawn begins to do its silent dance
as she worried the edge of her dress
and looked so like a lost angel
fallen from grace but holding her own
she will make breakfast for the townsmen
and serve up the hard liquors
just a matter of time she thinks to herself
before he will come back this way
take her up to the bedroom with promises on his grin
and for a moment she will believe once again
that itll all change
he will take her far away from this place
someday she will have the dreams
but for now she slips the ring into her pocket
and gets back to work
someday
someday
Apr 2015 · 365
joy shine
mark john junor Apr 2015
she laid a mean line down
but her heart was too kind
and seemed like she was always getting burned
after all what can you do
more of the real you you give up
the less you got when the chips are thrown down
fight back at encroaching darkness
only to be accused
aint nobody nicer than you
you know you are the apple of my eye
but babydoll something got to change
sick of seeing the world chip away at you
you got to find your peace of mind
got to remember that we all may be sinners
but you only got one price to pay
cant let the darkness catch you
have to let your joy shine
let it loose in a freeform dance when the music plays
let it loose when your in my arms
got to find your way home
to all those summer roads where we
smiled with brothers and sisters
all those dreams that we lived
Apr 2015 · 515
the wonderful dreams
mark john junor Apr 2015
she wandered the twilight
like a beautiful dream
bathed in moonlight and sweet thoughts
her heart flutters
like a powerful butterfly
a link in the chain of events
between falling in love and being in love
the kiss between the hearts desire and its dreams
she is just a woman
but there is magic in the moments
there is true beauty to be found in the touch
a symphony of sublime in her every movement
a truth to the world expressed in her eyes
the heart is a place where all is possible
where it all can be at your fingertips
all the wonderful dreams
all the promise of tonight
she wandered the twilight
like a beautiful dream
and that dream is moonlight
and its wonderful to be lost there
in the fluttering of the silent wings
of a heart
for kjs
Apr 2015 · 628
a bare toothy grin
mark john junor Apr 2015
gone are the days
when frail old men appeared in the looking glass
to be full of song and wine
they sit back now and spin their tales
on the summer night breeze with knitting needles
and crayola crayons
mischief in their eyes for the season is upon them
no better place to reap ruin than midsummer night
no better time than now
polyester suits now march in unison
cheap shoes clicking on the hardscrabble
a bare toothy grin echoes the moonlight
these once frail old men are a force to be reckoned with after all
they march on through the pine forest of night
into the creeping dawn
they knit madly and draw with crayons recklessly
in a crescendo of insanity's come to fruition
these looking glass souls with cheap shoes and ties
these johnny-come-lately wind up madmen
gone are the days when you could dismiss them
they have come to own the night
when they hold court over all the world
in the looking glass
Apr 2015 · 597
is not was
mark john junor Apr 2015
beautifully inspired by the quiet moments
the rapture of words is short lived
and passes by like a swift summer rain
filled with glorious life yet to be lived
with promise of tomorrows never ending sunshine
all in the briefest of moments
captured by the heart like a photograph
distilled joy in the frame of memory
only to be handled with cherished fondness
as the years roll by
as the memory's are distilled into
a panoramic of life's adventure
a vision of what we perceived
was not is
but cherished nonetheless
Apr 2015 · 647
the brightest stars
mark john junor Apr 2015
feel your heart race
like a busy dreamer caught up in
such a perfectly beautiful dream
like a soul boxer making his last stand
throwing fruitful punches at the star strewn skies

watch as the brightest stars fall
watch as the words you labored so hard to write
are taken from their context
poor boy don't you know words serve
whatever mouth willin' to speak them

and to that end you can sucker punch the dawn
but itll hit back with blue skies and summer breeze
feel your heart race
keep pace with your wildest dreams
falling like the brightest stars
Apr 2015 · 828
that lonesome journey
mark john junor Apr 2015
frail light shines in this
midnight place
a deep feeling of peace clings to the air
a resting of sorrows
an end of troubled journeys
a place of forgetting

the dove comes to sing here
and the song is of tomorrows never changing
is of sleep that devours all the bad dreams

grey this haven
like pearly dawn crept near
that lonesome journey taken
parted from all ever known
to walk neath these beautiful trees
to walk this paradise of quiet passages
dream now your fondest dreams
dream now of loves tenderest kiss
the dove has come to sing you to your slumbering beauty
she waits there for you
at the crossroads of the lonesome journey
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