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The Web Poetry Corner

Jason Fry

of

Clever, MO, US

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Prologue: Rennaisance

by

Jason Fry

Iím falling,
falling into a hole of nothing,
falling to where nothing matters anymore.
Iím falling,
falling into darkness,
falling into a losing battle between sanity and insanity.
Iím falling
Falling into desperation and despair,
falling into a place where hope is just a sad memory of the past.
I'm falling.
falling into death,
withering away piece by piece.
Dying,
entering a world of stillness and stench.
I will fall.
I will fall into a bed of jagged death.
I will die.
But in dying I will be born.


What is Only In My Head And Not Imagined

by

Jason Fry

What I believe no longer matters.
Because life is life and
I can't fight it.
It's taking my place.
singing a song.
The sun's in my hair
the winds in my face. It doesn't really matter
it's all out of place.
My hands in your hair
my heart on my sleeve.
But love is this. Or is this love?

Bring forth the melancholy soiled
opinions that I once had.
give me definition once again.
Lost and found maybe just forgotten
maybe just washed and dried and then...
what? Categorized by their absence.
Taken away?
Or washed away?
Does it matter, I volunteered?
Does it matter I'm stuck on the beach in the moonlight of a night
that happened only in my head, or is it just you?
I guess I cant find it, fight it.
Or me.
(This has been a test of the Freudian slip theory, only a test. If this had been an actual Freudian slip, something would have been learned here today, but this is only a test.)


Par For The Course

by

Jason Fry

Sinking deeper,
deceiving more.
It lies upon the sleeper
to close
his eyes.
And they all gloat
of my conquer,
my taming;
their rule, my shaming.
But I lie and I decieve.
They don't know but they believe.
And I don't care.

The Sleeper falls through the bed,
and lands on the ceiling.
His eyes never close.
No peace ---
No reception ---
just static snow where the
pawns
should be.
But my queen has been captured.
No one left
to lie for me.
Sinking deeper,
deceiving more.
It lies upon the sleeper
to close his eyes.


Cleanse My Soul

by

Jason Fry

Let the rain fall down upon my head.
Yet a single tear I will shed
for the sky shimmering dark and gray,
and the dew touched grass where I solemnly lay.
The lightning bolting from the sky,
and sculptured clouds floating slowly by.
The wind blows cold across my face
to dry my tear with quickness and haste.
I hear in my head the voice of the rain.
Itís soothing comfort relieves my pain.
This memory like a jewel Iíll keep,
and dream of it always in my sleep.


Keyholes

by

Jason Fry

An innocent boy with an innocent face,
an innocent girl in a dress of lace.
Through the hole in peers the eye
of the innocent watcher with an eye to spy.

A room of darkness, a room of sound
where a helpless woman is tossed around.
The man atop her not husband not lover,
but a ruthless villain in an evil hover

A room of sorrow a room of silence.
A room where a widow resents all violence.
The man in the casket, like her husband, her son
whose life was taken at the barrel of a gun.

Now a room of vast open space,
a room of nothing, not a wall not a face.
A room of expression, emotion, and sound.
For the mind is a room where all is found.


Home

by

Jason Fry

The beauty of those crystal waves.
The mystery of those cold dark caves.
The feel of the water tickling my toes.
The pillars of the pier arranged in rows.
With magnificent ships sailing the sees,
and filling their sails is a light warm breeze.
The seagulls flying in the sky,
itís hard for me to say goodbye.
I slowly turn to walk away
and say to myself how I wish I could stay.
The vision of this will stay in my mind.
I just hope when I need to I can find
the place where I can roam open and free,
where Iíve found me.


I Know The Feeling Said She

by

Jason Fry

I welcome death with open arms,
ĎCome to me, come to me,í do no harm.
Take my life quickly I ask
for myself it is too heavy a task.

I donít care anymore take me away.
Donít leave me here. Donít make me stay.
Iíll cheat, Iíll steal, Iíll even lie.
Please take me I want to die.


Tempest Soul

by

Jason Fry

My heart parallels the storm
giving great joys to many, sorrows to some;
changing like the wind; often soothing like the rain.
It comes,
and it goes.
Never silent, never still.
Never tamed by force or will.