The horizon grows angry,
it growls in thunder,
enraged with lightning,
I watch you people tremble.

With each thundering boom
the fear is revealed in your eyes.
But not mine.

This world's storms
time after time again
have tried to break me,
I have always risen
stronger and wiser
than I was before.

My body has been beaten,
my soul has been bound,
where other men would have cracked
my mind kept me whole.

I persevered,
I found the strength,
relying on my faith,
my family,
and my friends,
I stayed standing
while around me stronger men fell.

So now,
with our horizon turning grey
you want to throw me to the wolves,
sacrifice me for your self-perseveration.

Just be warned that when I return
the growling thunder will be my howl
my rage will be the lightning.

And I will be leading the pack.

Joey Jones

I am the eclipse that makes you blind,
a dark shadow cast upon your mind.
as you try to escape into the light
I'll serve as a reminder of the night

I am the scent of your blooms decay
a putrid aroma from your lost bouquet.
as from my dreadful stench you bolt
I'll engulf your being until you revolt

I am the bitter you find in your sweet,
the aftertaste from your spoiled meat.
as you glutton on to much too chew,
I'll feed you more of my wretched stew.

I am the timbre of your screams,
a sound echoed from your dreams.
as you try to escape with your soul,
I'll be the melody of your bell's toll.

I am the agony that you must feel,
the pain letting you know it was real.
if you think this fiend you have met
you have, for I am your life's regret.

© Joey Jones

We are Terran's children,
destined for her consumption,
cursed to her cycle of death,
just denizens lost in bereavement.

The clouds--dark and rolling,
encompass our soul's horizons,
obscuring the light, the hope,
in a shroud of solemn drear.

They moan in thunderous trumpet,
dirges for our inevitable requiems
we listen preparing for our reckonings,
a debt signed in the blood of our birth.

You stand there--a juxtaposition,
exposed without inhibitions,
blooming in a field of reaping,
the Crann Bethadh of lore.

I find your branch in trepidation,
a crow once cursed to just darkness,
in yours eyes I find the validation
to transcend the fate of earth and stone.  


Joey Jones

I'm lost on this endless beach,
just one desolate grain of sand,
all alone in the masses
no more or no less than the grains beside me.

I blend in,
eclipsed by this majestic scene,
I help to create.

Am I no more than a moment
falling through the glass,
like the one that just fell by
unnoticed -- forever lost to time?

Yet, I noticed the falling
and it transformed me from what could be –
to what once was.

And it has left me to wonder,
how can my life,
a life like the billions that came before me
and the billions that will come after
have a relevance to the existence of humanity?

This contemplation erodes my soul
for I can find no solace in being just part of the whole,
no matter how inspiring that whole may be
my love, my passion, my being,
has to be more than this.

For inside me,
there is both the best and worst of humanity
I have tamed the worst
and strived each falling moment
to be the best me -- I can be.

And if for no other reason than this
I deserve to be more,
more than a desolate grain of sand
forever lost in time.

I should be the beach.

© Joey Jones

Time--such a wicked *****
teasing you with possibilities,
allowing you a taste as she
denies you a seat at life's buffet.

She devours your childhood,
leaving only crumbs of
birthday cakes and brownies
on a disposable plate of memories.

She lets you dream in your youth
just so that you can morn their loss
while she slowly nibbles at your potential
until you’re left with only what could have been.

She decays your body,
savoring each agonizing moment
as you become just a shadow
of what you once where.

She laughs her devious laugh
as you weep while loved one pass,
those that have escaped her cruel caress
but she lingers to savor your mourning.

Finally, she takes your vitality
turning the simple things in life to pain
just so she can mock your frailty
and dance at your upcoming dirge.

Then in the end--she isn't finished yet
for she'll sit by your deathbed
savoring your last moments
as you sip from the cup of regret.

When she finally walks out on you
she'll wink a tick, blow a kiss in a tock
yet, with your final breath
you'll beg and grasp for her to stay.

But like the ***** she is
she'll will be gone.

Joey Jones

I hear the sound of the pale white horse,
Its thundering hoofs beating to time's familiar rhythm.

I search the rider's fiery gaze
finding no remorse just a poignant resolve
to stay the coming course.  

I smell the blood of my yesterday,
raining down from his risen sword,
each drop a wasted moment forever lost to time.

He now decays my every thought
and plagues my waking hours
as he infects my dreams with pestilence
and lays waste to my today.

He'll lead his beasts along the coming road
ravaging all my plans leaving me gaunt and famished
as together they devour my tomorrows.

His slow and steady gallop
thunders to the beat of the ticking clock
creating a cadence that's played to its rhythm
heralding in a faint prelude to my eventual requiem.

© Joey Jones  

Revelation 6:7-8
King James Version (KJV)
7 And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see.
8 And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to **** with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

The sun slowly rises outside the window,
I watch the peaceful ascension for a while
drinking coffee from an old chipped mug
tasting the moment as much as the brew.

The day before me is one that is far too busy
breakfast is to be made and errands to run
but in this moment my mind can only drift,
a leaf lost on an autumn field of reflection.

I savor a sip and allow the moment its due
thinking back on my youth and its ambitions
I find them unfulfilled but lacking in regret
then weep as I realize there will be one to come.

Daughter, I have worn so many hats in my life
played the roles of heroes and foes on its stage
obtaining my titles and fighting for positions
but your father has been my favorite one.

It is through your eyes I’ve seen this world,
as your tiny fingers unveiled for me it’s beauty,
in my lessons to you, you taught me to dream,
gave voice to my song, and rhyme to my verse.

With you I’ve surfed the shores of foreverland
holding your hand along its tides and beaches
living this amazing dream that began with you
a dream my youth could have never dreamed.

Today, we’ll laugh and play our games together,
finding joy in all those tasks that lay before us,
I’ll hold your hand and call you my baby girl
assuring you my hand would always be there.

But one day, like me today, you’ll watch a sunrise
with your tears blurring its wondrous beauty
my promise will break, the one all fathers make
and that day will fulfill my life’s only regret.

On that morning my breeze will have calmed
my leaf will have found its place in the field,
leaving you with just a memory for a father,
daddy’s little girl without my hand to hold.

Weep child if you must, for that’s living too
then close your eyes and lift up your hand
and I’ll find it, I’ll be the caress of the wind
to lift you back to the shores of foreverland

Where each wave is a forgotten memory
that crashes on those timeless beaches
where a father’s promise is never broken
and daughters are forever daddy’s little girls.


Joey Jones