Fear

you don’t have to be here

you don’t have to be here

By jfarrell

 

 

Where you are now, you don’t have to be;

 

Trust me;

Everywhere I go is a legitimate terrorist target;

I ask “do you want chips with…” your hot dog at Wembley,

As I watch two grimly held machine guns walk past.

 

Everywhere I work now, a bomb might go off;

But, I ain’t here;

Here’s your hot dog, and did you want chips with that…

I may say this to you….

 

But behind my eyes,

I’m watching adam sandler movies, lord of the rings;

The BBC 12 part tinker, tailor, soldier, spy;

And listening to all the music I ever heard.

 

I’m dancing to ‘aint no stopping us now’

‘oops up side your head’ ‘soul man’

I seriously am not here, as I hand you your hot dog;

And don’t look behind you, at the scary machine guns

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i have a big, bright, shiney red button that's marked "do not  push!"

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Love Never Goes Away

I think about you every day,

these memories never seem

to go away,

 

I know its you who I love the most,

 

I'm going to have to live with these

feelings for the rest of my life

 

Always worrying about what happened

to you; if I caused you to suffer.

 

Wondering if you ever think about me in

the way I think about you

 

I hope you live a good life,

I wish I could tell you that I love you

but I'll never get to see you again anyways

 

I wrote this poem, only for you and no one else,

because your the only one that I love deep down

 

I've had dreams about you that we meet again,

when I see people that look like you, I immediately think of you,

it causes me much pain.

 

These feelings are never going away,

always in my heart will you remain

 

Life is not fair

and often denies you what you want most

 

You are always reminded of your failures

you can never escape your past

 

Love will imprison you for life,

but I would not have it any other way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The one who I really love. My true love. I don't usually write often about this subject, because I keep it deep within. Its hard to talk about.

 

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Mohammed let me down

Mohammed let me down

   By jfarrell

 

The eclipse…

There; so many infidels we could have slaughtered, like pigs;

But, Allah, didn’t speak to us;

I don’t understand;

 

Maybe,

Even mohammed fears god?

No order to attack?

C’mon, they are camped in fields in their droves;

No police; no concrete blocks;

One single truck…

Hundreds could be dead…

 

But,

No……

Maybe, even your mighty Mohammed fears god,

And his wrath;

Me? I’m an infidel, don’t even believe in god;

 

Sorry, with the eclipse;

You’re failure to act;

Either you’re a bunch of pussies;

Or your, personal, Allah’s full of shit.

 

And I’m easy to spot, if you wanna put a fatwah on me;

I wimp, cowardly looking westerner, wearing glasses;

My profile pic is me;

But blowing women and children up more your kinda thing

Coz that’s wot worthless cowards do;

Hurt those weaker.

 

C’mon, big man (hehehe “big man” hehe, wot a tosser);

Seriously; the eclipse; not one message from Allah?

That’s why you will lose :-)

You don’t really believe;

You’re just tourists. And ill-informed ones, at that.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

yep, tourists

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Watching you

Watching you

By Jfarrell

 

 

I love how you wrinkle your nose like that,

When something gets your attention;

Yes, you, look up from your keyboard.

:-)

Yep, right there, you see me?

Silly question, you can’t see me…

The small blue light…

Just look up…

Just beside your webcam…

Yay :-) you found me,

Hi

 

Don’t panic (I see how your chest rises and falls with fear);

I’m not the creepy greasy-haired guy, who lives opposite;

(He’s quite a nice dude, by the way, helps old ladies across the road);

He can’t help it if he sees you… then his jaw drops and he just stares…

You are stunning…

But…

If you see me looking…

I’m not slack-jawed and mesmerised;

I look; I visualize…. in lurid, sweat and blood-soaked detail;

You can see the dark, calculating hunger in my eyes

 

That’s why I watch you from here

Through your webcam… your phone…

I am one of the million different faces who sit in the darkness…

Paid to watch you…

Recommended to watch you..

Excited by watching you…

All you do… in detail…

In digital technicolour.

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i'm not, really.

you can trust me, i'm a serial killer :)

I Held Back

Folder: 
Personal

"It's been a bit,

since I've written real words, 

real verbs, letters lined up 

to litter the page 

 

with alliteration, 

metaphors, hyperboles,

other devices that help gain

your undivided attention.

 

It's been a bit,

I almost quit,

because the last time I was on stage,

I felt like a tripped.

 

I felt like I didn't perform, 

I knew I was pulling punches, 

because there was much to consider, 

but now it's got me a little bitter.

 

I held back.

 

I held back,

lowering my tone,

juxtaposed to my actual voice;

loud.

 

I held back,

because of the 

familiar face

In the crowd.

 

I held back,

instead of letting it rip,

taking people on a little trip

to recount how one's lid

 

was flipped.

 

I held back

because I was scared

that I wasn't hip

and I wasn't hop, 

 

when I was raised on Wu-Tang 

and Nas 

in a place where 

where rain constantly drops,

 

and I know how

the beat drops, 

the mic rocks, 

and how rhymes can make time stop.

 

I held back 

because the tone of my skin 

has people guessing 

wrong my ethnicity, 

 

if you think I'm white,

you're not right, 

and to be honest 

that's not point.

 

Because I come from a place 

where I was too nerd to be brown

and too chale be white 

and too polite to be hanging out 

with the gangsters 

 

stealing cars 

and shooting at other's backs,

and if you think

I'm talking about blacks

 

that's the problem,

assumption causes caution, 

because not only were those 

want-to-be thugs

 

of fairer skin, 

my only friends

were much darker kin.

In the Marines,

 

we call ourselves green,

and you're either 

dark green, 

light green,

 

and there's no disillusion,

you disagree? 

Shoot, 

perhaps in the Army.

 

And yes, 

the Navy too, 

there's no turning back, 

I'm no longer holding back,

 

what I'm saying is true. 

The point of this piece 

is to bring peace

to me,

 

that I was wrong 

to hold back, 

to withhold from the reader,

because how can I call myself 

 

a poet

if I'm not painting a picture? 

With your mind as the canvas,

and my words as the paint?

 

I watched poets come on stage,

deliver works of art,

things beautiful, 

and I saw a beautiful, torn heart

 

put her hand up in the air

to an artist work,

like it was gospel in the church,

with thoughts on me! I saw,

 

but I held back,

and what I provided last time

was a finger painting 

of child's skill.

 

I need to be real,

paint a real picture,

my motions and emotion

the finest paintbrush, 

 

now fluttering about

all over your mind, 

hopefully breathing to life

that I, 

 

a man,

 

am more than some accusation,

of being mean heart.

Of being a relatable object,

supposedly,

 

to a poem so eloquently put

'he broke my heart,

and called it poetry'?

Get out with that

 

hand raised in the air

while another poet

spills out her pain,

and perhaps next time

 

I won't hold back,

paint a picture 

of how her heartbreak

did become my poetry. 

 

Yes, I'm being specific, 

and context would make

for a much hotter piece,

 

but I'm over this, 

over being scared, 

I've conquered mountains

and crossed bridges.

 

Reader,

I respectfully submit,

give me another chance.

I won't hold back."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I had an open mic a few months back. A good friend of mine asked me to perform at her show she had built from scratch. I was eager to help, having performed at her show before (see 'Other Life') and had performed with (see 'Corpse Pose'). Anyway, I was there and I choked. I held back. I instantly wrote two new poems and read one decent poem, and another, lacking. I cursed myself for doing so. This poem is about that hesitation.

The Beast Unseen

The Beast Unseen

Lying in wait, patiently silently following every move,
Unseen by most, till a moment before a strike, then silence you lose,
Claws like a razor, teeth like a knife
As they are digging, you cling to life,
Your oxygen cut off, the breathing is thin,
Nothing left now, no you won't win,

Another life claimed, by the wit and the skill
The appetite curbed, the beast claims the kill,
The beast, the victor, opponent, has none
before it was started the battle was done
Unseen, came the battle, victory unclear,
A death, escape, a way out was near

Unseen it came left just the same
A pile of bones, unrecognized no name,
Disappeared like a shadow, gone out of sight
Another day finished, now stalking the night
Keep your eyes open, use silence to hear
If it's unseen, the beast could be near

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Figment of my Imagination

Figment of my Imagination

By JFarrell

 

I am just a figment of your imagination

I don’t exist

The grumbling of a piece of cheese

Eaten too late at night

 

A shadow stirred by a

Tap-tap-tapping on your door

Memories awakened by

A howling on the wind

 

The breath on your neck

Of “Spring-Heeled” Jack

The knife at your throat

In Whitechapel

 

A ghost, a wisp

A vivid dream

Already forgotten

As you wake

 

The flea bites me

Then bites the arm of God

And I am nothing, forever

Just a figment, an echo

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i'm i my imagination or yours?

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Be Afraid

Be Afraid

By JFarrell

 

It struck me as curious

I’ve been told all my life

“don’t be afraid”

I was going to start my computer class, saying

“Don’t be afraid of the computer”

Why?

 

Especially, if you got to face a fear;

You’ve got to give a presentation

But fear public speaking

In order to overcome a fear

You have to be afraid

So saying “Don’t be afraid” is just daft

 

  fear * n. 1 an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain or harm.

         2 the likelihood of something unwelcome happening

 

 

Being afraid is all right

It is very okay to be afraid

Welcome it

Enjoy it

And then fear some more

 

Then look back

Are you as afraid of it as you were?

Almost, but not quite

And that’s how you beat fear

Liking beating an addiction

One step at a time

 

So

Be afraid           :)

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

starting to like fear

The Nymph

She was a beauty
Hair like silk.
 
She was colored gold,
Skin white as milk.
 
I saw her in my mind,
Felt her in my arms.
 
Woke up from the nightmare,
Recalling no harm.
 
The thoughts went on for hours,
The dreams went on for years.
 
Day merged into week,
Tear after tear.
 
She tore my family,
The silky haired nymph.
 
But so long as I got my fix, 
My ambitions would remain limp.
 
One day I saw the girl,
On 23 and 8th.
 
Just as I had remembered her,
Every little detail in place.
 
I approached her from behind,
Courteous as could be.
 
She said a kind "Hello",
And acted like she'd never met me.
 
"'Tis I" I replied,
She giggled and turned away.
 
I grabbed her by the hair,
I was never one to play.
 
I was oblivious to her screams,
It was all in good fun.
 
Surely she must remember!
She was the one!
 
I took her back home, 
Laid her in bed.
 
Gave her a drink,
Stroked the silky hair on her head.
 
"Let me go," she pleaded,
But I had done no wrong.
 
Surely she must be joking,
We'd been together for so long.
 
This went on for months,
The silky haired girl and I.
 
I never got her name,
All she did was cry.
 
One night she tried to run,
Oh how dumb she must've thought I.
 
But I let her go swift And fast,
She could never hide.
 
As you can well imagine,
I found her hiding in the forest
On the following eve.
 
She was broken, matted, helpless,
Simply Splitting at the seams.
 
I could take a hint,
She didn't want my love.
 
So I let her go,
With a passionate push and loving shove.
 
I have yet to confess her whereabouts
She's still "missing" to this day.
 
The bitch should've listened 
 
 
                         I was never one to play.
 
 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

Over & out.