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J. E.

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San Leandro, CA, US

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Fear

by

J. E.

How greatly do I fear sometimes
that you will not come home
and I will lie clenched in dreaded
dark all night, alone,
as somewhere in the night you die
in pools of blood and bone,
until somebody finally, kindly
calls me on the phone?

Calmly they will tell me then
that they did all they could
but you were full of drink and drugs,
your judgment wasn't good.
You were driving so much faster
than you ever should
and your final, dying scream of pain
was lost in someone's hood.

Morbid

by

J. E.

I sat and thought of Death today,
a morbid sort of game I play.
A game of angels and of sinners
where only losers are the winners.

Abandoned

by

J. E.

The sun sank silent, out of sight,
abandoned me to black of night.
The moon was lost, my only friend,
I faced the night alone again.

And with the night there came a chill,
in ice encased my heart, so still.
A frozen, crystal tomb of pain,
entrapped, a sculpture, I remain.

Roses

by

J. E.

The roses in my garden grow
inch by inch and row by row.
Through summer's heat and winter's snow,
the roses in my garden grow.

He Who Dies

by

J. E.

He who dies with tasks undone
walks the world without the sun.
He who dies with tasks complete
has eternity at his feet.

Nevermore

by

J. E.

Frozen my heart trapped in ice,
a screaming soul seized in a vice.
All that then was left of me
a grinning, grotesque parody.

A prisoner, interred I swore,
trapped in time forevermore.
Then through the dark your smile raged
and thawed the tomb that held me caged.

The darkness shivered, shuttered, then
shattered and withdrew. Once again
sunrise! Though I was beat and sore
I'd be abandoned nevermore.

The Orgy

by

J. E.

Teasing, twisted, intertwined
a devilish debauch, divine.
Bodies bright and beautiful
no one could resist the pull.
A tasty tangle, arms and legs,
gasping giggles, pant and beg.
Feast of flesh everywhere,
striking, stroking, skin and hair.
Flights of fancy without end,
a frenzied fantasy with friends.
Marbled moonlight marks the time,
age-old rhythms create rhyme.
A moaning, panting symphony
titled simply "The Orgy".

Dream Flight

by

J. E.

Silent silver starry night,
into the dark a dream takes flight.
Feeding on a fantasy
it wings it's way away and free!
Streaking towards the stratosphere
as wild winds sing songs of fear
but fear up here is pale and shy,
scared and screaming joy we fly!
Immense, immortal, involved, intense,
a powerful portal the dream invents.
Skim quicksilver 'round a star,
a black hole beckons from afar.
Weight, like hate, stills for no one,
pulsing and pulling, a dying sun,
imploding, enfolding, its mass so dense
it eats worlds leaving no evidence.
Absolute darkness, sinister appeal
calling, I'm falling, this isn't real!
I start and sit straight up in bed,
visions of glaxaies filling my head.
Still scraping stardust off of my feet,
caught up in the cosmos I fall back asleep.

Catharsis!

by

J. E.

Words-
ripped from my soul,
wept by my pen,
scrawled in blood
on pages of despair.

Festering abscess
lanced and leaking
psychic poisons
out of my body,
onto paper,
into the void.

Catharsis!

Michelle

by

J. E.

Save me a seat in Hell, Michelle,
so when I get there you can say
"I saved you a seat. I didn't need to keep it warm."

Late Again, Dear

by

J. E.

Stealthy footsteps, sneaking, sneaking,
across my wood floor, creaking, creaking,
why try so hard for silence, dear?
Do you think that I don't know you're here?

Kick Start Vibrator

by

J. E.

Her man so desired a toy,
a Harley would bring him such joy.
Oh, how she battled it,
until she straddled it,
now she cries, "More throttle, big boy!"

You've Got To Sleep Some Time

by

J. E.

Go ahead, do what you need to
just remember if it should lead to
deciding to lay hands on me-
think it over carefully.
Every couple has to fight,
but if you think that might makes right
then not a threat, just bear in mind
that even you must sleep some time.

Sweet Dreams

by

J. E.

Dreamed I killed you,
I just had to.
When you saw me
coming at you
you tried to stand,
call my bluff,
you hesitated
just enough.
Your face,
beyond glorious,
when you realized
I was seriouse
one split-second
from the place
my metal bat
destroyed your face.
Now it's morning,
I feel so clear!
It's just a dream,
relax, my dear.

Simile

by

J. E.

Sweet, simple lines of simile
sometimes seem to come to me.
His lips on mine like water flow,
his eyes, like oceans, deep and slow.
His hair, like thunder, wild and black,
his breath like satin on my back.
How full of prose passion can be
when lived and loved through simile.

Joy

by

J. E.

I can't seem to articulate
the desperate need to create.
To spread my mind like wings and fly,
to write without a reason why.
No thought of gain or fame ensuing
creating for the joy of doing.
Like children on a summer's day
when work is simply known as "play".

Running just to feel the wind
brush and blow across my skin.
This is how I long to write
words pouring so very bright
that the paper, when I'm done,
shines warm and friendly as the sun.
Words that sing and laugh and fly,
across oceans, touch the sky.

How sad to be a grown up
to spend each day so caught up
in drudgery and dull despair
when all the wonders still are there!
Call it responsibility,
in truth it's inability
to recall the simple joy
that all the world is your toy!

Can't They See I'm Wonderful?

by

J. E.

I sit and write of goofy shit,
I amaze myself with my wit.
I find myself so damn amusing
that this indifference is confusing!

I know I think I'm quite a sage
so why aren't I now all the rage?
I'm certain I would like my work
if I weren't an illiterate jerk.

I think that I am quite prophetic,
I LOVE it when I wax poetic.
My stories to me so riveting,
I tense and tingle, laugh and sing.

To me my writing is rich and full
how'd I get to be so wonderful?
Though I know that I am great
why is the world so very late

to notice me and recognize
I'm awesome? Don't they realize
a legend lives right here in me-
why is it they refuse to see?

The public praises prose that bores me
yet share my work and it ignores me!
How can the world be so blind
to miss the fact that I'm sublime?

Skooby Snacks

by

J. E.

Come on son, grab an axe
let's get us some Skooby snacks.
We'll have a feast, we'll eat our fill
if that damn Skooby'd just stand still!

My Cro-Magnon Man

by

J. E.

Slippery slides
the shiny slope
of your cro-magnon brow
overhanging
frontal lobe
a proud and mighty prow.

Huge and hairy
bulging body
forested in fur.
Nude, your quilt
a fuzzy kilt
keeps you quite demur.

Amazing arms
complete your charms
hanging to your knee.
A modern day
caveman to play
primitive with me.

Small Saints Weep

by

J. E.

Small saints weep
plastic tears
as God walks by
in homeless finery
and asks for a quarter
which I haven't got.
-
So, I offer Him a smoke
(the last in my pack)
and He grants me an angel
and a seat up in Heaven
which I accept gladly,
just to be polite.

High School

by

J. E.

Life was
chewed up gum on summer's sidewalk
crouched in wait
beside the dogshit
for my shoe.
A white-hot hell of mortification
my many faults and defects
matters of puplic discourse.
A mental torture chamber-
broken upon the rack
of ignorance and boredom
-forced to waste my time
in endless moronic classes
taught by blind, blundering idiots
and power tripping bullies.
Walking eternal halls
of taunting peer pressure
mental humilitation
and stinking, inedible lunches
served by hairy-moled women in hairnets
who never knew me
and never cared.

shitty diapers

by

J. E.

Shitty diapers and despair
perfume the cold, oppressive air
as four blank walls and one baby
come closing down and down on me.