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mark john junor Nov 2013
this dim light room
you protest the error
which must be why your here
but not even a flicker of interest
passes the faces
gather in the moment
digest its very essence
with an eye to its taste and texture
can it be such
that while you see the logic
thouse around only see the flaw
you protest the confusion
she laughs dull witted and mutters
that confusion isnt allowed
without proper paperwork
therefore there is no confusion
sit down and shut up
you stand and try to leave
the hired hand
stops you with a gentle hand
no friend we cant have that
sit down go with the flow
the tragedy is in her eyeless watching
she just lingers there in the shadows
with a television at full volume
cartoons of americas empire building days
running marathon back to back
with the guy who teaches how to paint
one a masterpiece of tragedy
the other a tragedy of masterpieces
life is a ironic love affair of
joyfull young pretty college girls
and the bitter old men they hide
dogeared books of poems tucked inside
old leather jackets
misery need not apply
mark john junor Sep 2013
the right eye cant see the left side
so  it don't exist so it reasons
and taking that logic to its conclusion
you roll down to your job and chop up
your desk into a million medicinal pieces
swallow it all now
its good for you to consume the things that make up who you
used to be

can i get sick on  you
she asks with a small smile
it'll be warm and comforting
but think that'd be pretty bad
and you get on down the road before she can sing that song
you come across a confused minstrel
who is sitting in the crossroads crying
at his dying profession
till you remind him that even bobby dylan is still humming
someplace in the back rooms of
earthly heaven

skip and sing thru the nights darkness
and stand up and belt one out for the ***** girls
and their glory days
and the comforts they gave to you
all kinds of warm and giving
alright
ride the waves on the east sea
slow and easy like you are ten years younger
like you are million dollars richer
cause you and i know that you only live once
and you might as well smile smile smile
as good ole jerry said
and wouldn't ya know that some old
cold hand would try and take that away too

so easy on it baby
easy on that gear
it'll be alright till first light
we will be ok
bobby dylan and jerry garcia cited (written as a tribute to two of my very favorite word craftsmen)
mark john junor May 2013
there is a quickness to the light in her eyes
there is a memory to the sandalwood scents
and the steam train of her thoughts

captures the soul
in the soft tangle of her hopes
in the the gentle web of her bright dreams
and you can loose so much and still
find a home here in her embrace

she meets you in a pizza shop
and sips wine and smiles at your advances
she will take you
and she will be wild all over you
when shes ready
but for now she just wants to enjoy the day
she wants to enjoy holding your hand


captures the soul
in the soft tangle of her hopes
in the the gentle web of her bright dreams
and you can loose so much and still
find a home here in her embrace
find comfort in her safe haven

you told me that if i tried
that if i followed
we could be
we would be
you told me that nothing
would stand in our way
we would be lovers forever and forever
and you would never let go of my hand
edit: removed 5 lines refering to making "candles and...."
mark john junor Nov 2014
fat monkey's with beady little eyes
wander back and forth along the kitchens edges
licking their lips and hungrily kneading their hands
while i tend the pots and kettle
wearing my best low rent apparel
and listening to only the finest of garage grunge
its miami gardens in springtime
and all the pretty people are strutting the boardwalk
looking for backwater bargains at cheap motels

she is here with me in her barley there bikini
fashionably perfect in all the politically correct ways
its perpetual summer in miami gardens
all the sour hearts on the phone making travel arrangements
the snowbunnys are out in force this year
can't step one foot to a western wind with treading on some ugly mug
but they are oh so friendly
don't you want to cuddle up with some furry little monster
its wintertime in miami gardens

she strips down to her birthday suit
and the monkeys start getting itchy in
their mohair leisure suits  
its hard to get comfortable in your own skin
in the land of picture perfect bodies on the sand
so lets all sit down to eat
share a meal and a mile of road
maybe we can find enough in common to keep out the cold
thinking about miami gardens in spring
mark john junor Mar 2013
there are bold words spoken in haste of the moment and heat of inner battles
but thouse bold words evaporate into the haze of morning
as bleary eyed we emerge from this hostile thought
to the new day….

bold words to challenge the heart
to incite the mind
enflame the senses

but it falls to some girl loading the cannon
in the bathroom
and such folly comes to light

she is no friend

she loads the cannon with care
and shoots you
you thank her
this is one of the three poems lost last winter when i lost my blog...the other two poems are mia...C'est la vie
mark john junor Oct 2013
as she walked slowly
down the middle of the night road
she tears off pieces of herself
and scatters them face-up on the cool pavement
they stare up at the spinning stars grinning

she mutters the song with
a small rough broken english voice
guttural it echoes softly
off the closed storefronts
and sounds like Christmas if ya think about it
her reflection swings slow through the motions
each pane of glass tinted with
the tidal forces of tears and rumors
each day has seen it much discussed
tread like jackboot in the fragile hall

like a bird in flight
you can see in slow motion the beauty
of its flight
you  can sense the brilliance of its craftsmanship
somewhere its creator is laughing himself sick

she reaches an impasse
and turns casting pieces like hemlock prizes
into eating the parts of the night
she can no longer stand
so the silence dissapears
and the warm space between dark and light
becomes cold once again
versions of herself
scatter to shopping mall parking lots
all over the world
and all the carts are taken down
like disassembled dreams
like laughter halved
like a smile too close to tears
brave knights fallen
mark john junor Dec 2014
she lingers on my mind
so beautiful in her strange way
and oh so tragic
we never had but a moment under a wonderful sun
but what a moment it had been
so full of promise and heartfelt light
so full of the emblems of brighter futures
so filled with the dance of hearts discovering sweet loves
it happened the way it should happen
it happened the way a 52nd street accidental preview should
and then it was gone
she just rose up and rode away waving her fare thee well
like some strange dream
never been able to place where it all went bad
or to place exactly why it all happened that way
other than to say it was meant to be
that she was just quick summer dreams
and she will always be fond to me as i am to her
sitting on a milk crate in the pouring rain
outside a closed supermarket at the midnight hour
just where i would picture her twenty years on
just where she would be night like this
in the beautiful light
a beautiful sight
in the midnight
mark john junor Nov 2014
just thought id say something
before she gives up
before she surrenders
to all the darkness that hungers for fresh meat
my own road is stained
just barley doin my own version of living
just getting down to a rhythm to the madness
why ***** it up
why get down with a harder road
'cause i cant silence that quiet place in my heart
i cant shut off the place in my minds eye
where i can see the consequences
so i reach out my hand
no real trouble at all
just a moment outa my time
but i can feel it make changes on her sea's
i can see it making waves in her uncharted
join me
grab a hand
there is a world full of people who
need even just a hand to hold in the dark of night
mark john junor Sep 2013
alone in the mirror of her minds eye
alone with the trail of thoughts leading off into the night
she feels a moment of desperation
can she find her way without him
can she know the right from the wrong
and will she ever feel that way she did ever again
can she feel that burst of heat and light
that burning hot love and passion

alone she steps into the darkness of all her tomorrows
and though the air feels light and crisp
she breaths with such tender care
with such trepidation
the symphony of changing feelings flow thru her
in this moment
both tears and smiles
hurt her features and brazenly flow from her eye

deep and wide
the day
she pauses at the sound of footsteps
the city draws back to reveal
the emptiness it contains
nothing is something no-one needs
and she has discovered its face benith all the dreams
she once held so dear

heartbeat sure and quick
breathing slowly now
her soft wet lips works over the words like a prizefighter
each landing of syllable defeats fear
each  narrowly placed thought sheds light on the unknown
and she comes to the edge of realization
steps slowly into resolution
that to find a way
she must release regret

he cannot return to where he was
he too has traveled this night
and while one may indeed replace ones footsteps
you will never tread them in the same way twice
mark john junor Mar 2014
the grey sandy soil
gives neath footfall
as he hitches up his oversized jeans
and nervously fumbles with his broken glasses
a caricature of indecisive recluse

his worked hands covered in soils
grips and relaxes with the rise and fall
of the conversation
his tattered shirt haphazardly buttoned
has a lone cigarette sticking its bent form
from the lip of the pocket
like the last standing solider
content to remain till his fiery end

the ditch he labours in
stretches back in crooked line
along the fence
deep in places and shallow in others
like a drunken hedgehog making a shoddy home
he stops and looks back wiping the tide of sweat
from his face
and squints against the setting suns
brilliant golden light
mumbles some rational reason invented
and dismisses all concept of repair

this earthen work of the hobbled mind
shall remain into the windswept rain and years
slowly loosing its form
as the world itself shifts in discomfort
but the man himself will remain to memory
forever unchanged
a hearty laugh rich with the
earthen tones of life well lived
a man that remains forever in sunlight
a man among men
my friend
mark john junor Mar 2013
this moment
her eyes lay on me like two whispers of longing
and her touch, light and tentative
speaks to me of her fear
i would tumble the walls of the city
i would shake the foundations of the world
to ease her mind
but i cannot even speak to her
its a dream/memory
and she has been gone all these long years
mark john junor Feb 2019
she called out as she passed on by
in that transient light faded and glorious
that her caring enriched every single glance
simple and endearing
forever lingering in her most loving eyes
that held me in my moving gracefully away
into the warm nights unspoken mystery
into the tale once so carefully crafted...

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

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

she called out as she passed on by
but it wasn't her words that were music to me
it was all the loves my heart has known
framed in the reflection of her eyes
mark john junor Mar 2013
Broken highways in the night

have allways been the benchmark of my travels

the count of the hordes of empty eyes

climbs as the tally of things iv abandon on the way is forrgotten



Once i a while it will come to me suddenly

of some small thing

some trinklet that

i prized so much

that some crawling thief made away with
mark john junor May 2013
Taste the days end with me
Sweet wine of soft fireflight
and tender touch beinth a summer moon
In your arms endure
This love can be ours
Under the iridescent moonlight
Embraced within one another
To live for an eternity
Languid and soft
We shall watch the grand painting of the ages unfold before us
As time itself submits that we are one
That we are passion and love
Love that shall never shed a liquid tear
Time ages us as one to live an eternity together
The porcelain dripping down the eons can't hold us back
Nor can the God who sheds those tears for us
Ferment the seeds of this madness pause along the walls
That contain the fragile thoughts
And read the written passages that are formed in the shadows of what we have created these passing moments are the dire and forlorn wasteland of the last days we spend here.
By: Adreishka Moonlight and Mark John Junor (Marks entries are italicized)
mark john junor Sep 2014
lets stay here a little longer
lets laugh and sing some more
because i want this moment to last
want this you and i
to go on all night
lets dance a little longer
lets romance a little longer
you look so wonderful in that dress
feel so wonderful holding your hand
its these simple joys
that romances the heart to believing
that sways the nightbreeze song to favor beautiful thoughts
want to walk alone with you and talk soft
lets dance a little longer
lets romance a little longer
want to laugh with you
see that light in your eyes
just let me hold you a moment longer
lets not let the night slip away
i see dawn comin
but just want one more moment
with your smile
with your hand in mine
lets dance a little longer
lets romance a little longer
lets kiss a little more
mark john junor Oct 2013
a rain shower fades away in memory
and the air is thick in aftermath
drenched with memory
as we lay beneath the overhang
her lace dress crisp against my cheek
i turn to say something but am
caught up by her distant looking silent revere
the notion of her hand moving along my arm
and her fragile spinning thoughts speaking in her expression
soft skin glows in the evening light
like moonlight was created in her
and the world uses a cheap imitation moon instead of her
she feels me staring and tickles
i laugh and tickle back
we fill our small space with unconquerable giggles
with strong strong loves like sweet wine
we just keep drinking each other in
it always fulfills but its never enough
its like a rose that never fades
like a summer rain shower
soft and slow
wet and warm
intimate to the soul
like a thousand gentle kisses
soaking to the heart and soul
leaves you dancing slow barefoot spins
and heartbeat long pauses in the arch between
ecstasy of body and soul
she is a song to me
and its her love that sings to me
with each nuance of her presence
the day is fading
and soon we will have to pick our selfs up
and drift home
i don't want to get up
don't want to be out of her arms
want this moment to go on and on
want to stay here in
the sand 'neath the overhang forever
laughing holding hands we push back the years
and wonder how we ever
got on without this right here
her hand in mine
if heaven could be described
it would be the quiet dance
two lovers do
in each others arms
without a word
without anything but each other
mark john junor Jul 2016
she was a fiery soul
emotions spilled out of her cup
like a bittersweet wine
an aftertaste of tears
salty as the sea rushing beneath me
heartfelt as the lonely moonrise
burning like the hearth of home remembered vivid but far
inviting you back from your cold journeys
the faceless sea's of humanity's wanderlust
from the dark romances of uncaring hearts
feel your heartbeat thunder in the stillness
hearing your tear ravaged breathing
as you struggle to find solace in sleep
her words carried on the thick air remembered vivid but far
like swans floating on the still waters of childhood
like images my heart paints when
her electric touch torches my soul
she leaves a wake of silence and
appreciative eyes behind her drifting the worlds ways
she comes to my bed now
slips into my cold sheets
and with lips forsworn to her fiery tongue's wicked ways
and crafts a bird from blood and bone
a flightless swan that will forever be companion to
to my seasong
moonrise comes with a silence
that my heart can never greet with joy
mark john junor Aug 2013
Intensity wanes as the day gathers warmth
and the vision that would have sustained
the words to be written has dulled
like a bakers blade heated and carved with fine line art
it serves its need with only a taste of the true intent
her ***** limbs and loose cloth dress
entangle the process in deeper things
never intending to let loose
never intending to reveal

the day endures the slow man
his fractured path along the road
is broken along the lines
of his bitter fears
which he announces like prayers to the humid sun
of his deliberate contortions of face and hand
which he offers up to the sky like sacrificial virgins

his staggered stepping
takes him past my door
his pet stops at the verge of its leash and
in no uncertain terms begs for sympathy
but for him or itself is unclear

thick on my face
slowly advancing stages of sorrow
each new thing brings to light
a new aspect of the diminished man
iv become since she opened the door to such
mystery theater and misery laden faces

her ***** limbs
her patchouli scents
her pre-printed desperate pleas are wooden
and filled with hidden hope
that throw off from her intended meaning
leaving one wondering who is confused
you or the far crowd abuzz with anticipation
she kneels and strips
soft carved delicate lines
with spider lines of ink and sweat
she humps the moment for its worth
before pulling on her dress once again

the words have lapsed
and i am left with only her dull empty waiting
and my own diminished soul
mark john junor Oct 2014
she reads her morning book
in the autumn sunlight
and within our conversation she smiles radiantly
gives glimpse of hearts truth
natural beauty rendered of the soul
is a masterpiece that no artist of word or image
in subtle colors fine lines can duplicate
her burnished hair spread by morning breeze
her delicate gaze softly suffuse
natural beauty so sweet to the eye
but it also the natural kindness she shows
to the odd souls around her
that illustrates clearly the best of humanity
she brings out the best in all of us
she makes me want to be a better man
she reads her morning book
resplendent in the autumn sunlight
a radiant woman of delicate beauty
she wants to learn, change and grow
she makes me want to be a better man
(edited)
mark john junor Jun 2014
truths triage could not spare him as he was
trying to look angelic on a boatload of sinners
hes chained to his uttered story despite its flaws
he wrote it with the ink of despairs wisdom
despite knowing despair will lie to you as often as its dark brother fear
he carved his fate in the slippery wet stone of his pasts deeds
and theres no escaping the truth in that mirrors face
three am in a ***** motel room
the greasy light reveals the man within
unleashes the beast
and mourns all that could have been

(((thirty six dutch girls holding hands
walk in the shadows....
thirty six dutch girls
smooth to the makeup perfection on arrival
laughing and giving peck on the cheek hello's
the crowd into the booths at the back
a noisy forest of chatter and purses clutter
thirty six slender dutch girls
powdered and perfumed
come to build a romance of the mind
every single one of them dreams vividly of
real love and wanting something better than this emptiness
this is no way to live)))

bent tens ways to sunday but never really broken
he keeps on keeping on pounding flesh to footpath
hoping to escape reason with muttered excuses
hoping to beat the dawn keep the night alive for
just one more whimsical delight
he writes his fate indelible while lying to no-one
that its just a phase he's going through
****** his chained hands at the obscured waters
but once you start down the trail of tears
only the truth will set your sight free
four am in the motel parking lot
and the birds herald a coming dawn
this is no way to live
mark john junor May 2014
with mother of silence we're a playground for
the scars we spent and received with lovers now gone
regrets are heavy jagged stones
regrets are written like ******* meant to ******
regrets are loud awake and thousand miles tall  
wishes and hope are just whispers
intangible as wind

echoes of the hearts illusion
haunting situation
footsteps faint give glimpse of a vision of loves return
but thats a wicked crown that threads the pain needle
no witness sees your depths
tastes your darkness
a whiskey candy drunk on its sweet embrace
but clarity is a toy also
diamonds to one hand
dust to another

take back your wicked crown of pains needle
shatter the illusion mother of silence
understand my attempt
emptiness is a disease that rots the heart
lonely is a hunger that eats souls
wishes and hopes are just whispers
intangible as wind
but they are all i have
mark john junor May 2014
she picked at the
guitar strings without much heart
and as the long night wearied into dawn
her song changed
the confines of this run down mill of the mind
had worn her down
watch now as daylights child spoon-fed
the nights dream now wakes crying for lack

daylights child growin fast
listen now as her fingers stumble in the sweet song
hear the notes changing like spring changes winters face
know that she must feel it deep
she was always a tough girl
and would never shown tears like this
lest it was going deep as deep can be
deep as the sea

listen now to her song
just her weeping to her her guitar
in this run down broken old mill
this factory of forlorn
the child of daylight now grown
flexed muscles for some some strange woman of evening
took his wallet an' took his boatman coat
washed poorboy out to sea
listen now to her motherhood song
weeping for foolish boy gone astray
weepin' for poorboy lost at sea

mind your mothers now lad's
watch them strange girls of the setting sun
set your lines and watch your jibing
sail good lad sail on home
set your lines watch your jibing
sail on home good lad's
(happy mothers days...listen to your mother now)
mark john junor Apr 2013
this memory is like a mountain that i  must climb
the night reflected in her eye
the warmth of her words reflected in my heart
a glass of wine left her lips wet
a random thing left a laugh in the air
you would have liked her

we fell
headlong into that ruined night
its echoes were strange
and winter was in leading edge of
that cutting wind
but we didnt pause to fear
we plunged ahead into the shadows

been lost in that wilderness
between the city lights
and the darkness of some mens souls
she rose from the dirt
she rose from the ashes of some
forgotten past life

taking me in her hand
led me out of my own complex pasts
to a new beginning with her
on a road that neither of us could foresee
this memory is like a
mountain i must climb
i must see what was there
i must heal what i left behind

her soul was as complex
as the tapestry of stars above
her heart as wondrous as
a majestic night filled with a lovers dreams
spinning in the breeze
we made our way as one
plunging into the shadows
edited version
mark john junor Oct 2013
a layer of cold air
sweeps in from the north
and im finally able to sleep
after many weeks of restless sleep
broken bits of a dream
one i had more times than id care to remember
years go by
but the dreams remain the same
about a day in my life
that changed me in many ways

i dream
im standing in the
first moments of a breaking dawn
the sky is just beginning to change colour
and the air is full of possibility's
lay down my burdens
and turn to companions of a long road
and share a brief thought of joy at the wonders
of the world

the time slips by me
and i find myself
sitting at the marble benches
down by the river
where i saw her last
and here she was
walking slow barefoot and carefree
just i remember her best
a hippy child filled with hopes and loves
without a single jealousy or lie

we sat and talked
our conversation dancing to all
manner of things
our hands entwined like loves and hopes
our eyes seeing nothing but eachother
and so it seemed to go on forever
at least in the dream

there was no parting
there was no goodbye
didnt get to say how much i would miss
everything about her
didnt get to say one more time how much i loved her
she was simply
suddenly
gone

twenty years
she waits for me
i still think of you every day...i have moved too far away to visit your grave...but your not there anyway...your here in my heart..forever my love,  forever.
mark john junor Oct 2014
a page is such a cold place
pen has a sage who delves for inner face truth's
the page entrances with silent mocking
word thought dances just outside the blocking
the sage thirsty now craves sweet success
but only digs graves in the sheet of paper white
mourn the poems never born
sorrowful worlds in the words
sage now sleepwalking
his empty words never talking
an attempt at a technical piece, didnt work out so hot
mark john junor Jun 2014
rain day grey
all in the muscle of my head
flex it but the thoughts still there
running round an round in empty space
strong head weak heart
send my head on global tour round the block
sunbathing my moral compass
but it never tells me what i want to hear
that its ok to do all the fun stuff

rain day grey
and iv walked my muscle head all up and down
the reasons and rationalizations
and still cant wrap it round her face being so....
rain day grey
and my musclebound mind is workin' overtime
beating me up and runnin' me round
all this thinkin' done wore me out

hello...customer service...
id like a refund...this mind appears to be defective...
mark john junor Oct 2013
she begins to swing her hips
and flicks her bick to overload
her lips on fire with the words
her mind is a furnace comin unglued
see the images leaking out the seams
rivets slamming the walls
as the ***** busts a nut
she is full on now
aint no stopping
aint no slowin down
what are you crazy think you want her
spreadin roots in this state of mind
like unleashing a hailstorm in a paper cup
this version of the girl aint for bring home to momma
she swims out of her eyes
and bites the natural world
but she is an artwork on two fast feet
she is the cover of time pasted on a cereal box
eat that walter cronkite

any questions

his hand a tangled knot
in the handles of his life
and the he begins to bounce on his feet
as the tune rides up onstage
the crows parts to let the kid roll
they can tell this one is gonna burn the carpet
he  calls out the things on his mind
the funky thing crawls down his mind
and out the dancing in his legs
heavy steps like rolling thunder
light ones like flashes of lightening
see the music speak with this
poor fools broken form bouncing
but see that ear to ear grin
that ain't painted there
its live and in person
cause this is living
when the music shakes to your soul
long into the night as the band onstage
plays through their list
plays all the favorite ones
and some for the silly little ones who think
its so cute to wear weekend Tye-dye
these two got the dance-floor sweating
these two stretching the flesh
and greeting the sky
one star at a time
people can you feel the heat
coming off her
shes gonna give birth to a lighting rod
and its gonna explode allover this dance-floor

all  too soon the band is pulling out the encore
fare thee something
and her exhausted smile is filled with love
for every note she has made love to
this night
and his laugh is for the trails of mind light
that he has danced with and ran with
they wind it on down
they meet in the middle
and hold eachother
as the music finally fades
the rest of the world goes home to sleep
these two
will lay down to relive it in visions
for a lifetimes in a dream
goodnight prince of the river
goodnight princess of dreadlocks
dedicated to Jay Bianchi and Quixotes True Blue...a piece of sunshine eternal
mark john junor Aug 2021
That day
one I will never forget
my brother set me free
he let me fly like the wind

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

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

poetry ©2021 Mark Junor
mark john junor May 2013
i drive my jag
it drives me
nothing deep
just fast
see my icon pic...thats my jag
mark john junor Jul 2014
floyd and the skinny kid skate round
me like vultures looking for table scraps
today im all about just keeping the head above water
try all night to sleep but just climb walls in my head

my kryptonite came round again and she was full of smiles
even tho i could feel things crawling round neath that pretty face
couldn't help myself just ended up humpin leg
while she just laughed counting bills outa my wallet
just really skull **** myself over and over
like to trade my life in for a simpler one

distill the hours down to thouse moments
when i escape the circus of my own thinkin
when i can sit and soak up some sun on the beach
without all the headnoise crowding out my goodtime

floyd and the skinny kid circle round me
but i got no use for virtual vampires
and they just manage to annoy
i got prettier things on my mind
hoping to distract
just hoping to distract
mark john junor Apr 2014
my love
i love the idea of you
love the way you hold yourself
when your talking to me
the way you lean close
the way you look into my eyes

i love the sense of you
as you fill up a room you have just walked into
with that joyful playful soul song gentle laugh you have
i love the way even the sound of your footsteps
makes my heart flutter

i love the idea of you
the way your hair is in the wind
the way you reach up with one hand and set
it softly back to perfection
the way your hair smells of strawberries when im holding you

i love the idea of you
in the rain you giggle as you hurry in heels
and how easy the warmth of your smile comes
to share itself with everyone around us
like you nourish the world with your sweet heart
the way you whisper to me when we have
made love and are drifting off to dreams

i love everything about the idea of you
and every day you show me
the reality of you is even more
i love you my love
i love you
mark john junor Sep 2014
dazzled by wonderment's true voice
hear now the shape and shifting theme
of these your lost years
call out with a true heart to thouse
you wish to behold come to such beautiful day
know that each of these you cherish
hold you as well in the deep waters of loves ocean
sail free my lovely friend
sail to dawns beautiful treading maidens
laugh and sing with them freely
after all its only love shared that makes the
world a wonderful place to be
so now as the majesty of night falls to our hands
let us rejoice once more
my lovely friend
for our open hearts and open minds
let us tell laughing happy tales all the night long
with a flagon of ale if thats what you wish
i only wish to live in the love
of that smile you share once again
mark john junor Aug 2014
iv written a thousand love letters to you with my fingers on your bare skin
written a thousand love poems to you with my lips caressing
an epic love story with every with every smile we have shared
a love song with every tender embrace
iv written them with the magic i feel simply holding your hand
iv written them with my hearts truth
iv written them with this gentle kiss i give you now and forever my love
my love
my love
mark john junor Apr 2013
so barren
and bitter the taste of your words
are invading my ramparts
and have become a pestilence on my mind
it whips round and round inside my skull
it grows with each passing hour

you lack the faith in yourself
patience to find your way out
of a trap of your own devising
its a thing
yes difficult to leave behind but its a thing
things can be lost or replaced
people cannot

i will wait for you
because i love you
but i cannot abide that you are
what you have branded yourself
you are brilliant
you are a light in all this darkness
i would not be alive if you hadnt saved me
you are a wonderful and beautiful woman
that has so much to offer

there are symphony's in the silence
there are forests of thoughts
to be had in the space between
when you left and
the waiting for you to come home
come home baby
we are gonna be fine
we just gotta stick together
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
mark john junor Sep 2014
sitting on the floor barefoot in a baby blue dress
perfections dreamscape hewn in lace
romance flower of such gentle strength
and such sweet grace
my life was a blank page
waiting to be written
waiting for my wanderers heart to be smitten
for this wild child dreadlock princess
for this gentle soul to sing her heartsong for me
tremble no more for all darkness is gone
with eachother we are stronger than moonlight
with eachother our hearts beat as one
my life to you and for you my sweet
be my wife
be my life
all of you are invited to the wedding...itll be a classic hippie wedding barefoot on the beach at dawn with a rock band playing grateful dead songs :-)
mark john junor Jul 2014
she lay in darkness
listening to some sad song
some careless young heart with a version
of some sweet old melody
she lay wrapped in my arms
lay wrapped in her wandering thoughts
i bring her herbal teas and a ashtray
but the grey ash already litters our perfect world
like stains of regret on a untainted heart

she leaves the towel on the tiles
along with her delicate footprints
leading to the window where she lingered
brushing her long straight burgundy hair
brushed a hundred times carefully
a hundred moments drinking her with my eyes
but to her she was
alone in the mirror of her eyes
alone in the rain of her dream

she made eggs and toast
left it neatly adorned on the
table overlooking tomorrow
picture perfections of lives she promises
one day we will someday live
when shes no longer afraid of her yesterdays
one day when her voice will no longer echo
all the fears and sadness
one day when the delicate footprints
lead to sunshine
instead of further into the darkness
into the brilliant sadness of night

she carved a driftwood boat
and set to sail upon the still waters
of her dreams
set into its lovingly crafted world
was a neat photograph of her alone in the rain
with footprints beating a trail back to my safer bathroom
but i'm not home anymore
i'm no-ones home anymore
i'm just a figurine gathering dust
an echo of her dreams

she will wake
to find me gone
she will just lay in silk sheets
and dream away the yesterdays
to the sounds of some careless young hearts song
set to a timeless melody
like a stolen kiss forgotten
like a smile unanswered
soft and filled with tears
wishing
wishing
mark john junor Sep 2013
theres an unabridged sorrow to her voice
an open and silent feeling behind the
winter feilds of her eyes
their tilled rich soils
plowed under to a uniform dark dead brown
as her hand rushes through her wheat hair
like a skyth
she sends you to her fathers farm
on the north road on the grand island

her picture on the shelf in her
childhood room
smiles with a green toad
another picture of her lesbian lover
one of me

juxtapose the tread of the man
come to wrench the breath from
the bird at nightfall
his ***** hands are silent
and his thick red jacket a muffed rustling
as the gasping goes on and on
the terrible need for ceasing the desire to flee
his hands slowly stop their motion
and he steps away
you are left in the room
with this now silent dead creature
this signifigant kiosk in the chapter of your travel
this strange night
he brings you his wife
and the two of you drive back to town
i will never forget that
small creature in that room
its silent death a reproach
to us all
scythe...ah well....im paid to be pretty not spell it right LOL
mark john junor Apr 2017
sweet songs fill the
still and quiet summer night
leads my thoughts along the
narrow paths of lush green life
as moonlight filtered by the leaves above
sends shafts of beautiful silvery magic
like a visual kiss
onto the narrow ways ground
where it leaves rippling pools
that passing lighthearted
souls drink from with graceful hearts
there is no disquiet here
only the mysteries of loving kindness
in which we swim forever blissful
at the end of the narrow way
a castle made of dreams
where stout men stand silent guard
protecting innocence
and providing comfort to the
broken hearted
such are the dreams that fill
my soul while I sleep blissfully in
my sweet lover's arms
my heart in her tender hands
mark john junor Feb 2014
the touch screen reflects my face
past the lines of text and blurred definitions
that they speak
the soft tapping on the screen as i
type each letter into the still and vast void of the page
like footsteps of intrepid adventurer as he
walks alone into a vast white desert
walks alone and unafraid into the
dense resistance of the day
as it seeks to distract
but our fair haired hero is undaunted
brandishing his blade leaps forth
and proclaims the conquest of this page
sets the standard of his queen upon
the bold words he has laid
and stands so proud and cocksure
till i hit the delete button
and he is nevermore
so cried some dumb bird
so cried i
for poor old edgar allen poe...nevermore....such an unhappy fellow nevermore.
mark john junor Aug 2013
the wind chases a few dead leaves
across the grass
and i can taste the cold in the air
as my words wrap round eachother and die in the darkness
faintly echoing of my yesterday
when she was still here with me
lingering here to remind me of all that harshness that we did speak
all the things cannot be taken away
you can always add more dope
you can never take away
you can never ever take away
and she just slipped away
like the leaves chased by the cold wind
'and this game is fairly serious too'
and the tears flow
you can add more but you can never take back

i shuffle along the ***** road
to the edge of the alley where he sits in the sun
and ask
ask so quiet and so meek
please man....please can you...
musta been there for a year
maybe ten
and then she did that
she forgot the golden rules
forgot the way to go
and somthing black and sticky came to take her away
made her sleep
but it aint so restful
in the cold

the wind chases a few dead leaves
through the years
and catches one in a tenement with a spike
catches another in the park with a blade over a bag of ****
caught her doing more than she shoulda
more than she shoulda
you can always add more
you can never take back
i want her back
'and this game is fairly serious too' dave crosby

been thinking alot about a good friend i lost in denver several years ago...i miss her..
dedicated to stephanie
mark john junor Mar 2015
trundle out your weary poem
dust it off and polish it up
its going to be one those days
it wont trend
it wont get a bunch of thumbs up
but it'll be a nice piece
worth reading
worth believing
so run up the hardware to top speed
get that pen going  
give it your best shot
today is another day
and this is a new poem to reflect the new man you've become
this is a new start
on a fresh page
so get your game face on
and write that poem for me
mark john junor Oct 2013
at that point
where the road changes
and you pause in the desicion
trying to figure the right way to go

i remember us singing bowies heroes
and saying that we could be
that we would be
and we beat them forever and ever
we were heroes so it would be real
just like in the song
but that summer day is a long time ago
and your long gone
in my heart i take your hand in mine
cause right now right here i need ya
you are my hero
super beautiful
super strong
and in dark times its thoughts
of you that carry me through

i stood there
in the train station
long after you left
just looking down the tracks
as to say that if i looked away
you would really be gone
and right now i need you
in my heart take your hand in mine
we sang bowies hero
and we kissed so it'd be real
just like in the song

that summer will always be a special
place in my heart
they say that heaven is that
moment in your life when you were happiest
and you spend eternity there
id spend it with you
summer night in new rochelle
we would be heroes
beat them forever and ever
so it'd be real
just like the song
((note: reference to david bowies "heroes"))
mark john junor Nov 2014
there are days when the words come
like fevered friends grasping at lapels
urgently telling the tale with gasping breath
other times they come like a sweet river in the sunshine
they flow like bright beauty
the words can ignite you or ******
like a simple phrase sweet to the ear
like her playing her guitar
melody brings the heart such joys
the concept brings such beauty
just a fragment of song
but in it i hear night caravans on high desert road
i hear autumn sunshine laying on soft grass
i see all the creation possible to me
so play a little longer
let me hear another summer day
let me find the words to my next heart's song
let me see the beauty in you
mark john junor May 2014
the day moves around me
coming to its close
anticipation of night on the tip of tongue
its dark mystery
its deep magics
you know nights true name
speak it now my sweet lover
speak it soft and swift
let us run together in nights sweet dark embrace

i see it coming
pierced the horizon with its dark threads
as it knits the fabric of stars from birds drifting in sky
filling the world with its soft aspects like a dream
the moon riding clouds that run untamed across open sky
watch them fly untainted by earthbound mortality's
watch the world unfold one grand moment
unscripted by foolish men's deeds

you know nights rightful name
summon the night
you know nights true name
speak it now my love
speak it swift and soft
like you are laying a kiss on its beloved countenance
let us run together in nights sweet dark embrace
for few love the night as we do
few see its grandeur
few know its everlasting deep loves
know its forgiving compassion's
you know nights true name
speak it now my love
speak it swift and soft
mark john junor Aug 2016
in the shop window
the mannequin contorted
into a parody of summer beach living
even with the martini glass dusty and cracked
the hawaiian shirt, the flip-flops
the mannequin's long deep gaze forever painted blue
behind cheap sunglasses
sealed away behind faded curtains
straw beach hat tilted against
the harsh glare of a lightbulb for a sun
now this lifesized gaudy imitation of summer
is only the conversation starter for the old couple
who owns the store
with brighton beach memories
photographs of nineteen fifty eight
the heavy scent of cheap perfume
the shuffling of the old man bringing a cup of tea
this is where memories are bought and sold
where a piece of nineteen seventy six
could be had for two dimes and a nickle
its old men who hold the worlds histories
in their wrinkled hands
careworn baubles of a different age
its old men who have in their eyes loves lost and found
who have endless summer days in her arms
forever there back in sixty seven
this old man in his dusty store has more riches
than all the banks in the world
in his heart
mark john junor Aug 2014
sitting here in the late summer daylight
watching her tending to the line
see all her strength and beauty
know her complexity's and her easy smiles
know the girl kicking off her jeans backseat in the cool night
know the woman standing here by her man
everything iv ever wanted
no half measures...no lies

and i gather her up in my arms
gather up our wondrous dreamin
and we weave us a blanket of sun and stars
wrap it round us like a hearts lovin arms
we walk it on down by the old cathedral
sit hand in hand on the steps of forevermore
kissing our hellos and smile to eachother
no one will tread on our sacred stones
no one can stop the sweet love that shines in us
no half measures...no lies

my dreadlock honey asks me
to speak to all of you
weave you a poem
tell you the tale
how we had been two very lost souls
crashed into eachother in deepest dark places
of the world
saved eachothers lives
ran for the border and survived
now madly in love
no half measures...no lies
into the forevermore
mark john junor Mar 2014
the choices made
just the sitting alone in the dark
of your own waiting
the waiting for the truth to come on up the road
but that could be a long wait indeed

counsel yourself not to spend what
you got foolishly
cause you never know what tomorrow will bring
it might bring rain
mayhap the burning season will come again
mayhap the road will finally take me home
stead of further away

sitting here listening to the steady approach of thunder
like a parade in a lazy summer town
i been thinking perhaps i should just keep running
till there aint no more running to be done
mayhap ill cry till there is nothing but salt water seas
perhaps ill do evil things till there's nothing but darkness
mayhap ill set the night on fire
then maybe we can see a safe place to be
been thinking i should just keep running till
there aint no more running to be done

cause iv gone the distance
and nobody cared
still it rained
and still the men dressed in black
laid innocence out for the plunder
still the evil men came two by two
and all i could do is watch as the world swept her away
and all i could do is die a little bit inside every day since

been thinking
i should just keep running till
there aint no more running to be done
there aint no more running to be done
mark john junor Apr 2013
she was the one
was the only one i will carry with me
all the days of my life
everything else in my world has changed
but end of the day
close my eyes she is there waiting for me
she is my one moment in life that i will replay over and over
and wish i could change

close my eyes and that warm spring moring will allways be there
like from beyond she is holding me here
forever unable to change what was meant to be
what i could not have changed even if i had known

i was a young man
strong and sure of what to do
which path to follow
so sure of what was
and what was meant to be

till the spring tide changed everything
and now old and grey
i linger here with her smiling face just beyond my closed eyes
and no path seems so sure till it allready has my track upon it
no future is sure till its underfoot
and no person granted no matter how near

she is the one i carry with me
waiting for me to close my eyes for that last time
she is the one i will replay in my heart over and over
till i forgive myself....till she forgives me
in the next life
it is thru communicating that we heal
mark john junor Dec 2013
while this left handed wind
scribbles in my head
the chatter it has with the cold marble
a hard mute sound that i cannot comprehend
i gather myself with one hand and delve into this beast
with a rabid twist of the inked hand
but even as the words fall one by one
to the page forming  its neat teeth
the capture device falters and the poem shatters
like a frail mind
its remainders are a mad little creature
not some graceful dove
and this mad little creature cavorts across
both mind and page with a trail of blood and pain
with a trail of closing doors
and silent accusations in eyes only imagined
this mad little creature now vaults
to the aperture between you and I
screams out to the listening world
not i...do you hear me...not i
the child of dawn isn't the wanderer of night
captivated by the moons silent slide in cosmic wheel
the dew eyed stranger at dawn is a manufacture of thought
not i
not i
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