PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

—Stalled Train Wanders Off

'Tis a drag—that car

nobody operates it

—moving on waters

The streets are clean 

But only by the street sweeper

Our hearts are open 

But only for the surgeon 

Our minds are sponges 

But only for social media 

Our passions are set for justice 

But only for the social warriors 

9 rules of temperament 

Goodness 

Kindness 

Gentleness 

Patience 

Self -control 

Faithfulness

Peace 

Love 

Joy

10 perfect laws tempered with mercy 

Is all we need 

To create a world really worth living in. 

I wish you could see it with me instead of against me.

We are the same but our eyes see differenly.

I love you.

Words can make you happy

Or they can make you sad

Words can make you feel good

Or make you, feel real bad

Words can help you heal

Or they can make you hurt

Words can give you praise

Or they can throw some dirt

Words can raise you up

Or they can put you down

Words can make you smile

Or they can make you frown

Words can make you smart

Or they can make you dumb

Words can make you leave

Or they can make you come

Words can make you laugh

Or they can make you cry

Words can tell the truth

Or they can tell a lie

Words can bring you sorrow

Or they can bring you joy

Words can be real blunt

Or they can just be coy

Words so much

 Our lives affect

That we should use them

 With respect

BOEMS by JA 97         

Stepping on split skulls and bones

Of bygone daughters and sons

We head into the abyss

Embraced by hell’s dear shadows

Reality’s mundane kiss

Welcomes us in the burrows

of Death, her friend oblivion

awaiting on the doorstep,

Laughs at Man’s every next step

Nearing the grave, the none.

The bow of my body lay suspended by your charms

hung in mid air with the lightest of touch

Fire glazen eyes burn through naked flesh 

Shudders tentatively meet the tips of your lips

Rib cage to Belly,

belly to hips,

to thigh

Breaths lay untaken

Tension rides the sinews 

Pleasure languishing in every  stroke 

Your heated approach has left me starving,

Unlocked, ready, awashed with drippings

Flooding senses overridden

I thought no meant no?

The light coming trough the window

showed all the dust that exploded from

the opening of that one book…

This cold light

lighting up

the warm dusty room.

Books and books and nothing but books.

Mice’s houses.

Rat’s castles.

Home of the fattest woodworms.

I cough with every step,

cause every step

is a step creating

clouds of dust.

Dust created from books.

Sandstorm.

Duststorm.

Bookstorm.

As I walk thought the kingdom of dead knowledge

towards the end of the world,

I’m looking for one book.

Even if in pieces.

Even a tiny part of it.

i need it.

A page, or a line.

A word would do.

My room is my desert,

my prison and my kingdom.

So I build my paper castles

and I burn my books to feel warm.

I drink the sunlight

and I look for the word, hopelessly,

like it would save my soul,

like it would grant my wishes.

……..

I don’t know how old is that wine.

I found it behind these books over there.

It tastes like shit,

but that’s allright.

I’m eating the leather covers some book have,

else i’m dying.

I lick my own sweat,

the rats are no more.

All their houses and castles and bedrooms are ruined.

You see, i’m still looking for that piece from that book.

Even the moths are gone.

Not that tasty,

but that’s alright.

Oh well, here we go again…

I’m a starving man,

a godless messiah,

soon I’ll feed myself

pieces of my flesh,

tiny organs no one needs.

It hurts a little now,

but that doesn’t matter.

I can devour anything,

I just need to keep my fingers,

so I can run them over my book,

when I find it,

I will find it,

gently caress the pages,

one by one, run my hands

over the hard covers, the soft insides.

When I find my book

it will all be worth it.

New rat in town.

The rat is no more.

Gave me strenght for one last search.

It seems i looked everywhere:

in all the secret rooms,

under the stairs,

behind the bookcase,

under that little door behind the sofa…or what’s left of it anyway.

The book is nowhere to be seen

so now i’m on the floor.

Breathing is almost impossible

cause of the dust i breathed through these months.

Seems like my last scar has opened up…

The ceiling is beautiful…

Andels fighting demons.

Demons loving angels.

And God is reading a book…

WHERE DID YOU HIDE IT?!

I KNOW IT’S HERE SOMEWHERE!

DAMN IT ALL…

There’s dust dripping from me.

Dust and words.

And light.

I’ll ask you in a bit… Father!

So what I’m a character?

So what my steps are counted?

I had the right to try and change that!

See you in the next book, God!

Lord help me through this time,

Lord help me through this time,

I don’t know what do,

I don’t know what to ask,

I don’t know who to talk to,

I don’t know even know you.

Wisdom is the weapon but the line is thin,

On one side I’m in agony,

On the other in pain.

I am past the anger,

I am past the fear,

Show me the truth that I seek,

Though not of my will.

I am stuck in the loop,

With no light to be seen,

But as long as I’m in it,

I will find. the end…

I AM THE AUTHOR OF STUPID POEMS THAT HAVE NO REAL MEANING

I AM THE STEPPER OF STAIRS THAT CLIMB TO THE HEAVENS

TO FIND THAT HEAVEN IS NOT THERE

I AM NOT THE VICTIM BUT THE ONE WHO SEES ALL

WHO KNOWS HIS OWN DEMISE

I AM THE MAN WHO HAS WATCHED HIS LOVES GO TO OTHERS

HAS STARED AT TROPHIES WITH JEALOUS EYES

THE WAY THEY SHINED AND WERE HELD ABOVE ME

THE CHAMPIONS THAT HELD THEM GLEAMING

LIKE THE IRON SPADES SEWN ON LEATHER JACKETS

THAT THE PERSIANS WORE TO WAR

INHERENTLY SMALLER THAN ANYONE

INHERENTLY MORE TORTURED

IM THE ONE WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT NOTHING

I AM THE ONE WHO KNOWS MY OWN FATE

WANTS TO STOP IT

I KNOW IT'S HARD TO UNDERSTAND

I KNOW THAT MISSING SOMEONE IS DIFFICULT

BUT THE WORLD WILL ALWAYS SPIN AS LONG AS THERE IS THE BEAUTY WITHIN YOUR HEART INHABITING IT

I AM JUST THE AUTHOR OF STUPID POEMS WITH NO REAL MEANING

MISSING ME IS LIKE MISSING AN OLD JUNKY CAR

DONT BE TOO SENTINMENTAL

YOU CAN FIND COMFORT IN MY VERSES

DONT LOOK AT OLD PHOTOGRAPHS

LOOK AT THE SUN AND KNOW IT SHINES FOR YOU

I'LL BE BEHIND THE MOON SHINING FOR YOU TOO

into the dark treed forest