Old bearded men drifting
in the alleys of night
have died with the sunset
and as I have overlooked
their bodies beneath
green park benches and bridges
they too have overlooked my feet
passing quietly by
as the waitress slips silently
into her second or third
miserable job.
Tag Archives: Poetry about life
Gifts – A Poem by JP
If all I had were words,
and we were naked in the woods,
I’d give to you the fruit
I Wanted the World
I wanted the world, and I found it,
I poked and I prodded with certain glee.
What I had found was youthful and free,
A boyish desire for wild
And wildernesses within me,
But the world was wicked and cheap
And myself so dumb and naïve
That I had found pills and gold drink.
We all Fall Down
Around we go again,
around this ancient dance with plague,
and though we have no rose
blotches to mark our perfect skin
Simply to Dance
You are not an arrow,
nor is your path
flowing like time itself
from birth to death.
Today’s Wounds
Even as newborns
we are defeated
by our very own nerves
The Word and the Blade
I have owned words,
owned them all,
owned them as a suit–
impenetrable.
We Break
We break
as the newspaper
and anchorman read
teleprompter like,
Easter Eggs
I want you to carry my eggs;
I trust you and the care that you take,
yet I know that you are afraid,
Wooden Frowns
Nothing is more disappointing,
nothing so uncared-for
as one that knows let down,
The Cave
The night comes,
whispering at the eaves,
as if to say,
What if?
What if I made you change
your ideologies today?
there’s babies soft and strange
and hungry human hearts at play
where algorithms dare not go.
On a Bad Marriage
Everyday was exactly the same,
and the night did nothing,
and staying weighed me like an elephant
The Playground of Life
There is a gypsy in her hair;
a place where I slip off to breath,
a paradise of spring and new born things,
a playground made of laughter’s glee.
Do not Fall For a Man Like Me
Do not fall for a man like me
I am not blind; I do not see.
I am the reason storms have names
Hero
He’s nobody’s hero,
the man that wakes at dawn,
the bagger that packs bags
’till swole with groceries.
Guidance Systems
Divisions unite us:
The righteous verses all
who dare to dream on false idol
You Have To Do More Than Dream
We have engaged in a silence
so profound, it approaches stupidity;
Dad’s Shadow
On workdays he’d get up,
worn as the mattress’s springs,
and put on his dad face.
I’d sometimes see him through the cracks
Blacker Than Black
Reading the newspaper:
It said, new material blacker