Ron Peacock Jr: Poems

Feb 2015 · 943

Ron Peacock Jr Feb 2015

Everything gets quiet when I think of you.
The room gets a little bit smaller as the walls creep inward
Slowly
Upon me,
Suffocating me and intoxicating my mind
The clock ticks.
Ticks.
Ticks a little louder,
A little more slowly
As the seconds seem to elongate themselves through eternity.
Each grain placed gently upon the last, with time in between.
My heart beats a little bit faster and my thoughts race to keep pace
I can't tell you what I'm thinking because
The next thought drowns the last
Second by second I rock back and forth, slowly, thinking of you
As the sun sleeps I dream of you.
My eyes glisten when I imagine that slanted smile on to your face
I wish I could be there to see it.
I wish I could love you like I want to
Like I used to.
That song has faded
The intermission has begun,
Preceding the next ensemble.

The silence no longer torments me.
I am no longer trapped when I think of you.
In the silence, I hear collective chants for an encore.
Another chance to play it right.
Another chance to show my capacity.
To outplay my heart and pour out what’s inside.

#love #ex #time #romantic #reminiscent #reverb

Aug 2013 · 1.1k

Kärlek, för evigt

Ron Peacock Jr Aug 2013

Kärlek, för evigt

Would it be insane
To say I obsess over you
Night and day?
To say I dream dreams of angels and queens who sing melodies of love and
Other joyous things?
A confession of my subconscious.

Would it be ironic
To say that I regret not knowing you sooner because I feel like I've wasted our time?
And now forever is shorter than it would have been a year ago.
But a year ago I didn't have the wisdom to understand real from fantasy.
Schizophrenic mentality, you could say.
But today
I know what I feel is real.
And our relationship isn't fantasy but a dream.
One from which I never desire to wake
Until death do us part.

Would it be nonsense to say
If I had a million dollars
The first thing I'd buy is a white gold ring with a precious diamond on the top with the words "kärlek, för evigt" etched on the inside?
I'd take you for a ride to the most extravagant of facilities and look you in the eye and say...
"Money can't buy happiness;
So I spent a million dollars on the one thing that would make me happy.
Will you say yes and make me the happiest man alive?"

Would I be ridiculous to say
I fantasize over the idea of a house, kids, and a dog?
Black and white go so well together,
In so many ways,
And I don't just mean on chess boards and kitchen floors.

If I am just an insane, nonsensical fool full of ridiculously ironic dreams
Then at least I can say I'm in love.
Isn't that what it does to us?
It's evol, they say,
Because it changes people.
You make me crazy.
You make me so happy.
You changed my life.
I'm so in love with you.

Kärlek, för evigt
AM

Mar 2013 · 1.5k

Roses

Ron Peacock Jr Mar 2013

Roses

As it rests in the ground
It is deeply rooted.
Firm
Proud.

Thorns
Are a roses defense
Its’ hearts protection.
To keep it safe from
Hurt
Disappointment.

When pulled from the earth
A rose survives.
It requires only water.
A simple request.
It is persistent
Independent.

When it blooms
It reveals its beauty.
Though it doesn’t boast.
It is quiet.
It inspires
Poetry
Songs
Love.

When they speak of roses
What do they refer to?
Its pride?
Its persistence?
Its independence?
Its simplicity?
Or its beauty?

I can’t speak for them
But when I speak of roses
I speak of its’ perfection.
When I speak of a rose
I speak of you.

Feb 2013 · 1.5k

Sunday

Ron Peacock Jr Feb 2013

Sunday

The sun dips over the horizon.
Beginning its' rise.
Alarm 1... Grudgingly greeted
With a fist.
Alarm 2... Mama waking me.
3... Me waking you.
Early morning songbirds whistling their tune.
Gospel dimly transient from the far let room.
Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and grits on the stove.
OJ and milk sits for the kids,
While coffee brews for the adults.

Early morning chatter.
Sounds like shoe laces and belt buckles.
Tooth brushes and hair brushes
Frantic in pace.
Traffic
Back and forth, up and down
While we,
Barely awake.

White Cadillacs, Lincoln's, and Oldsmobiles
With the beige and burgundy rag tops.
Reminds me of Granny's car.
4 in the back
3 in the front.
With room to spare.
Red lights and stop signs.
Peppermints and tootsie rolls.
Meijer.
So we're halfway there.

Slanted park job in the lot.
High heels and Stacy Adams
Clash the cement.
Like soldiers
We march in
Just in time for praise.
Cheerful smiles and warm greetings.
Some real.
Some fake.
We sit.
And now
We pray.

Thank you Lord
For this day.
The sun is up
Such as our faith.
Our health is good
Our love is strong
So thank you Lord
For this lasting bond.

We nap.
We chat.
We clap.
We praise.
We jump.
We shout.
We cry.
We raise
And benedict.

Home for dinner.
*** roast and corn.
Sweet potatoes and greens.
Kids playful in their youth
Adults lively in their jeans.
We sit.

Thank you for this food
We are about to receive
For the nourishment of our bodies
In Jesus' name
We pray.
Amen.

We eat and enjoy each others company
No conversation needed.
Just the sound of good food.
The feeling of love.
The sun
Setting in the window.
It's almost time for rest.

I can't wait until next Sunday.
The weekend might be over
But the love,
The memories
Are the best I've ever had.

Feb 2013 · 870

Vacker (Beautiful)

Ron Peacock Jr Feb 2013

Vacker (Beautiful)

Having qualities that give great satisfaction,
delighting the senses,
Or the mind.

Some would say,
It must be extravagant.
Boisterous in elegance.
Splendid
From end to end.

Some would argue,
It just has to impress.
Dressed in beauty.
With a crown
Of untold significance.

Where truly do you find magnificence?
Does it hide in museums?
Kept under scrutinizing watch?
Available to those
Who choose to pay the toll?

What ever happened to the eye of the beholder?
The realm where beauty once resided.
Where everything stood a chance
To be received with awe.
A cloud.
A crack.
A wall.

In fact.
Everything has beauty.
Even...

Light.

This poem was written in conjunction with a 60 second video. To view it, just visit http://youtu.be/Q3K3McY2koo

Jan 2013 · 1.7k

Pleasant Deceit

Ron Peacock Jr Jan 2013

Pleasant Deceit

I could never get her off of my brain.
Off of my rocker
I must be
Or just awfully insane.
I can't pretend that I'm not.

I had a dream
Where everything was so regular.
I saw clearly
Felt the warm breeze near me
Nearly
Lost myself
Unfamiliarly in bliss.
The sweet kiss
Touch of her lips.
It felt amiss.
So I roll over hoping to slip
My hands on her hips

-Switch-

Back to reality.
Gripping the cold side of the pillow.
Weeping
No willow
To shade me from the storm
The clouds upon
Me.

Sleep.
My worst enemy.
Evil thoughts of good times
Erroneous pleasantries.
Awake to realize that it was just the deceit.
Of my mind and my heart
But I'll just blame it all on sleep

Jan 2013 · 617

Collapse

Ron Peacock Jr Jan 2013

Collapse

As a building falls.
First it rumbles.
A piece of the foundation
crumbles and cracks.
The structure gasps
As if it were bitten.
Unexpected.
It gets one last gasp
Before collapse.

When your world falls.
It first loses its' meaning,
The fruit of life is
Exasperated from existence.
You let too much in.
It couldn't take.
It.
Too strong.
You.
Too weak.
Too impure.
You long for the end
With no avail.
So now your world seeks
Collapse.

When mankind falls.
It starts to crumble.
As we lose sight of what's real.
It fractures as we misplace
Truth and myth.
It loses stability
As we lose sanity.
But it holds firmly in place.
Awaiting its end.
Revelations.

But I must admit.
They're right,
The end is near.
Not today though.
Maybe tomorrow.
But do they expect it would it be
So neat?
An expiration date.
Too simple.
Like a demolition.
First a rumble.
Then a crack.
Gasp.
Collapse.

Dec 2012 · 858

To Some Degree

Ron Peacock Jr Dec 2012

To Some Degree

Laugh at me now.
Question my sanity.
Look down upon me
In pity.
Tell me what you want to hear
What you want to see.
Tell me why it matters.
Prove to me
Why you don't understand.

You're scared.
Having an idealist around worries you.
It bother you that I chose
A path dissimilar to yours.
Uncommon. Unconventional. Unique.
Mine

You fear my success.
Not for my sake.
You know I'll be alright
Deep down.
But for your sake.
You want another follower
To "lead"
Another soft shell to fill
With more of you.
To mold
Minionize
Hypnotize.
I happened to be too solid.
You never expected me to be.
Smarter
In a practical sense.
Your PhD could have
Pulled humble deeds from your heart
But it placed upon you heavy doubt
Of who you are without that title.

I heard you regretted it all.
That you're not happy.
The salary is nice
But it's empty pay.
I had my eyes set on a different picture.
One of fulfillment.
One of pleasure.
Enjoyment.
Pride
In my ability
Not in my degree.

And that
To some degree
Is worth everything to me.

Mar 2012 · 821

Broken Sonnet

Ron Peacock Jr Mar 2012

Broken Sonnet

I was empty when I started
Tried to find a remedy
Really I was pretentiously
Fighting my inner artist.

Heartless...
Is that really what they think of me?
I was on the brink of the
Fate of many martyrs.

        And for starters...
        I had no clue what to do.
        I entrapped myself in seclusion.
        Time alone
        To reformulated,
        To re-braid my DNA,
        My motives.
        I tried to wriggle to the light.
        I jabbed, thrusted, fought.
        Just to get a glimpse of myself.
        The new me.
        Remedy.
        But I couldn't.
        I was stuck in my mind.

And I was going crazy
No way to get away from the
Torment that was containing me.

        So I wrote...
        I became the artist
        That I always wanted to be.
        I injected my pain infused art,
        Meticulously,
        On the sandpaper canvas
        That was my life.

Holding me deep in vacancy.

        That, was my nightmare.

And then I broke out.
I simply... woke up.

        So I learned how to dream.

Feb 2012 · 805

Voices in my Head

Ron Peacock Jr Feb 2012

Voices in my Head

You love to tease me,
Don’t you?
I can hear your faint whisper
Oscillating through my soul.
Echoing,
As if I were hollow.

You do this all too much.
Planting ideas,
Thoughts of treason.
Treacherous.
Baby,
What’s your reason?

I’ve put up with it way too long.
Your voice,
Fingernails on a chalkboard,
Steel versus concrete.
A distorted dog whistle,
Trumpeted
To a pack of hounds.

Is this what you really want?
I feel obligated to make you happy.
I promised to make you smile.
A man of my word…
Baby…
I hope your proud…

**-Bang-

Nov 2011 · 3.6k

Adversity

Ron Peacock Jr Nov 2011

Adversity

It’s been said to cause success,
Yet its’ face is boldly grim.
Some even say it makes or breaks you,
Kills your soul, or fills the brim.

It’s been deemed the roughest test,
Where preparation meets implausible.
Whenever passion makes a breakthrough
Sounds of hell’s end become audible.

It’s received reviews of stress,
Of endless torture tearing through.
Leaving good men self-departed,
For they had no will to make it through.

It’s been seen in years of the past,
The trials of Job denote it well.
As Satan crushed his joys,
Job consummated to prevail.

It’s been said, “show no regret!”
When you look deep into your mind,
For this test is truly an artist
Creating a man, from pure divine.

So why let discouragement corrupt
Your trip through the abyss?
For it’s been said to cause success,

And that’s one hell of a gift.

Nov 2011 · 963

Home on the Hills

Ron Peacock Jr Nov 2011

Home on the Hills

As I sit back and relax,
The chill night breeze whips slowly around me.
The sun sets on the distant hillside,
Where the shadows begin to slowly fade,
Lingering
Until its’ cold nightly slumber.

I glance further onto the hillside,
Upon a flicker of light in a pit of darkness,
Alone.
I float back in the warm
Bubble induced water,
Look to the sky,
Where dim stars gain composure,
And begin to glow, brighter and brighter.
Constellations gain visibility,
After finally escaping the abuse of the sun’s rays
Which cloud them through the daytime hours.
The wind whispers more,
People in the distance cheer,
For we all drank the day away
As we enjoyed our distance from the robust city.
Replaced textbooks and notepads for beer,
Champagne and tequila.
Focused on nothing,
Allowing our minds to drift away,
Like these empty bottles in this hot tub.
Drifting,
Yet still confined.
Who’s to say that this can’t be our home?

Home…

So far away…

Nov 2011 · 1.7k

A Soldier's Request

Ron Peacock Jr Nov 2011

A Soldier's Request

General.
Sir.
That is how you will identify me,
Hoorah?

I tell you what.
I am a soldier
But you?
You gotta earn your rights
To be privileged with such a title.
You get me maggot?
Fall in line, keep your lips locked.
Look me in the eye.
See any fear?
You shouldn’t, unless
It’s in your reflection.
You scrounge for this courage,
These cajones, that passion to surmount.
To get here, where I stand…

Here…
Can any of you maggots tell me
Where here is?
Anybody?
Are you even listening to me?
Where the hell are you going?
I never said at ease!
Sigh

I was an elite,
A soldier,
A leader.
Where here was the frontline.
The trenches, the beach head,
Africa, Stalingrad, O’ahu.
Now, here
Is found forgotten,
Lost in tragedy,
A false spectacle of hope,
Leaves me lost in this wicked dimension.
Clinches my soul.

Bang! Dust cover, flash
Dust cover, flash
Flash…
My senses.
Fading.
Into this abyss.
Leaving me here.
A ghost.
A spirit.
Please…
Bury me a soldier

Nov 2011 · 1.3k

Cold World

Ron Peacock Jr Nov 2011

Cold World

Though the; core of the earth can be measured in Kelvin
What happens on the surface is a negative hell man.
Its a; cold world that we live in
From the government, law enforcement, and politicians.
Everything you do, where you go is like your swimmin’
Piranha on you tail take everything you've been given.
Through the gutters we roam in search of new beginnings.
Man; is this life we live really worth livin’?
Just to find out the when, where and how of your ending?

It’s a; cold world that we follow.
Pushers giving you pills and telling you to swallow.
The pills of conformity, we all had a taste.
Some just got addicted so they feigning for that 8.
Nose stuck on the internet searching for conspiracies.
Illuminati, JFK the whole entire industry.
The media’s agenda is the way we all proceed.
People tread the tail cause they all afraid to lead.
Probably afraid to bleed, to impede on the culture.
Well now it’s time to feed, swarm down hungry vultures.

It’s the; cold world that got us dying.
Fight for your beliefs and end up in an asylum.
You ain’t even gotta riot, to be quiet is a sin.
Yes sir, yes sir, yes sir. Amen
That’s the story that they preach.
Subliminal, under the surface.
Nobody knows the truth so it all seems perfect.
Well...
Does it all seem worth it?

— The End —