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He hears the information
in denial, in confusion,
the world cannot exist where this is true;
the anomaly must be just passing through.

A joke, a ploy, a severed limb waved in circles by a clown.
Time is close enough he could turn around,
go back to before, it's so close -
five minutes ago!

Quick reverse, fervent dissent 
cannot stop the meaning lent
to small words given in big numbers.
Understanding dawns - he stumbles.

Yesterday was unexciting,
aside Today, desperately enticing,
beautiful, stunning, and serene.
A lost memory, forming on his brow in a sheen.

Acceptance breaks and hope flies away,
lost on the whispered sounds of May.
Life is gone and in its place
stands a vast terrible empty space.

The world was not what he thought,
not anymore wrought
in possibilities and future tenses,
no more Hopes as defenses.

He needs to reevaluate
where he was and where to take
the swirling self of consciousness
now in personal apocalypse.

That will come with later's feelings;
now he stares at a white ceiling
cursing the day he was born and
rejecting his new form.

His mind circles endlessly
a sigh to a scream to a thousand tears
Fear at the future
and pain at the sutures.

Dawn will rise another day
but now his hours fill with rage,
his minutes with ragged breaths
and his seconds with little deaths.

One afternoon he will learn
to stretch and breath and smile and yearn,
but for now -
he just has to remember how.

 

 

 

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A Long Wait

Balancing on the edge
the precipice calls
sweat drips down
anticipation of forever’s tomorrow

Trembling, you awaken the muscles,
the energy for the step forward

The bright light burns
looking forward pains and sears
unstable and confused, senses careen

together, chaos dwells in the mind
as the heart beats faster
rushing sounds grow louder

and you decide
yes
yes, I will

I will re-watch
the first four seasons of Game of Thrones

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Breaking

A rumbling in the gut leads to 
                                                      - feelings - 

a twisted anxiety, wrenching out of the 
                                                      - moments - 

or two stolen by the arrival of 
                                                      - tonight - 

and tomorrow or the next day of wishings and 
                                                      - dreams - 

broken by feeble balance and the
                                                      - rage -

at once more being caught up in a Ferris wheel of
                                                      - time - 

that's only incomplete if it wants to 
                                                      - be -.


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Pretty Petty Penny

Pretty petty Penny
trivializes her thoughts,
she never thinks of the important
only the smallest of unseen dots.

Petty pretty Penny
won't let anything go
she promises to be better
but enjoys the drama so.

Petty pretty Penny
lost herself in things
in television and movies,
in useless diamond rings.

Pretty petty Penny
isn't so petty after all
she thinks and feels and acts
the same as those that she appalls. 

 

 

 

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Playing the Independence Card

As some of you may have noticed, and most others of you have not, I took July 4th as a holiday and did not post a poem. :(

However, I will be posting TWO FOR ONE this Friday! Did you hear that? It’s Bogo time, ladies. grab your… air because this is a blog and costs nothing.

 

Thank you for your patience, please feel free – nay, even encouraged – to peruse some of my recent posts, and I shall see you this coming Friday!

 

 

~JM

 

 

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The Need

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once upon a freedom seen,
there was a pine and a stream
a scenery of green!
a glint, and a gleam

You took a bough and
I blushed and preened.

A flying team! we seamed

-serene-

as we unraveled and breathed
naked underneath the trees

meanness forgotten between the eaves

as you and I leaned in -

kneeling and feeling supreme
one summer eve
teaching a little sapling

future’s sheen on our brow

tomorrow’s dream – Out Loud!

forever’s meaning,
here,
with you,
right now

 

 

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20AE

I am a day late in this week’s post! My sincerest apologies. I know many of you spent Friday night clutching your knees and rocking  in a corner, panicked, waiting for the relief to come. Your muttering and eye-darting was not in vain, for at least here is your Jay Marie poem. Have comfort… I have not forgotten you.

 


 

A fatigue creeps over, around 3:00AM.
The same stretch of pitch black road curves in on itself again and again.
A serenity exists in loneliness, in the silence of the strange night.
Not the Peaceful Quiet Dawn, nor Afternoon's Bright Smile.

An enigmatic emptiness, filled with Darkness's mind.
Monsters crawl across the bright orange lines,
and trees create roots in the sky.
When Nothing reigns, Possibility thrives.

Hours of tires and the engine's whine
I fill the whole small space to stretch my spine.
Trying to remember what you told me,
My brain's gears shift coldly.

I want to turn around on the asphalt,
but I'm afraid of what will happen when I stop.
The obscurity will consume my intentions,
Time's minions engulf all reflections.

I yearn for destination, for Lady Dawn's approach.
Coming from behind, it sneaks, it erodes.
Absolute Dark falls apart and its elements scatter
like cockroaches off a suddenly-lit platter.

I am born anew, my eyes adjust with pain.
Unfamiliar, bright comfort reminds me of my name.
Something was lost back there in the night,
I'm oddly sad to say I escaped with my life.

 

 

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