The Web Poetry Corner
DreamMachineThe Web Poetry Corner is a Dream Machine Site
The Dream Machine --- The Imagination of the World Wide Web
Google

The Web Poetry Corner

Scott Jacobs

of

Swampscott, MA, US

Home Authors Alphabetically Authors Date Submitted Authors Country Submission Rules Feedback



If you have comments or suggestions for Scott Jacobs, you can contact this author at:
scottjacobsjr@planet-save.com (Scott Jacobs)


Find a book store near you, no matter where you are located in the U.S.A.!


Cerzan

...the best independent ISP in the Twin Cities

Gypsy's Photo Gallery


from verona, lost

by

Scott Jacobs

from verona i returned
a romeo without his juliet
not dead, not alive
only to be considered
a ghost with tears
loves serenade
loves crescendo
love lost
come home, angel
and find me again


returned to silence

by

Scott Jacobs

deep blue sunshine ocean, your golden skin has wounded my
chances of continuing on to another. faint in this world
i creep between purpose, understanding and light- afraid of the after thoughts of tenderness and unification of souls perplexed by deaths way. we endure freedom as a misunderstood patern of escape, a fear that releases us from each other, and the universe explodes into silence and cold- absolution. when do we descover ourselves? not when we part. not when we leave. not when we let go. but, yes, perhaps we are always alone. and maybe we are forever headed towards that silence, when we no longer see counsciousness and no longer hear words.
i dream. and i dream of you. and my reality is afraid of the truth which is in my dreams as much as in my eyes, here, looking into words i dont have, hoping the right combination of eternal stretchings will suffice me, and find a cradled day of void, like once in your arms you molded me a shepard of stars as my skin fell all over your skin and i fell all in you- the completness of what is not.
o, dear girl, sweetness and misery all for me...one day i will see you again and one day i will cry, again...these blues are ocean.


violet

by

Scott Jacobs

i am violets blood dripping down time
rippled in neverending wind
sorry for the angel
who met me weeping
and cursed the midnight songs


no time

by

Scott Jacobs

i carry myself in anothers body away from this world- the red doors of mystery against the violet backdrops of eternity- the drapes of deaths stage, beyond awaits the audience who knows no applaud nor praise, but with the objectivity of silence confirmed in no return critiques the movements of mind and spirit and body with refined patience that parts the universe from void and light and back again returning to nothing but anew. there is no home that lasts more than that moment which engulfs the expanses of our perception, and there is no higher order than that which we can not read, intricately woven, a mesh meld of all spirit and consciousness, matter and energy balanced on itself, a single unit orbiting the center- this, we can not read, for where our sight suggests potential our language fails to follow and where mind seeks solace our bodies crave chaos.
entering this world in this form- the complete void and reconstruction of any universe at any moment and growing through the length of time, our bodies, like the stars, further and further away from the center until the restlessness of crazy atoms craves exploration into the cosmos, like a lover seeking another, and in the "end", as they have so uncompromisingly named it, all form rests on its potential and non-potential to exist and non-exist in the time between sacred breaths left for universes to graze upon and grow wildly again.


on january 10th i was drunk and wrote this

by

Scott Jacobs

i am drunk and i write this in the wee mo(u)rn hours of the 11th day of this new year, sliding its way into my life like a crypt keeper holding an unfathomed secret in the sun while the ghouls escape from grave and gray and run their appetites over our green and brown expanses of mother earth only to chance a second chance, but admit defeat when their skin is no skin running through walls and speaking to lonesome deaf ears holding hands in mask parades of enduring collapses. in the end there is no end. and in the begining there was nothing before- just you and me, away from it all, tender as the romance of the romantics, as delicate as our first encounter that could have whispered to walk away, as certain as the stars burning across galaxies only to find another burning, to find another burning all the way.
o sweet mystery of all!
to have found you amid infinity
burning my eyes 'til the gods spoke through me, about you!
what more of life is offered, that i can not admire from beyond?


early a.m. three

by

Scott Jacobs

if the earth could be so infinite
as her body all about the bed
thrown naked from ethereal womb
then the earth were immortal
...
i discovered space
wishing for explosions
and inspiration
then letting it come to me
free
in those eyes
that hold secrets
those secrets
are the colour
...
each lip,
after these
i still taste,
will be more stale
more distant
more not me


Untitled

by

Scott Jacobs

i drank the skirt off the image of the mother
and, behold, was the naked being of all
she reached out with her bloody lips
hovering over my still and broken spirit of a body
and layed into me
the kisses of eternity
i muttered into the night,
bliss was my tone,
"there is nowhere else i wish to go...
death take me now or leave me immortal, alone."
i woke in sad desperation
three thousand miles from home
the dream had ended


no sleep sailors

by

Scott Jacobs

its the midnight song again
and i am not listening
all over america tonight
hearts yearn
wailing into the emptiness
asking those colorado stars to come on down
twinkle a little while
and have a drink
roads are echoing
while foot sailors storm the stormy seas
kiss those woman lips goodbye
years and years the journey to nowhere
never returning home
never getting anywhere
midnight song midnight song
the neverending red doves flight
into the sunset
beautiful virginia
your golden fields
bright bright blue heavens
walking alone i found it
you called me and i came
over the bridges down by the rivers
i believe i've lost myself
loosing myself
but i found you
midnight virginia
took you across this sea
carried you in my heart

this dock is lonesome
but i'm not listening
anymore to her voice
angel america
i, lost
at sea


peace rests in

by

Scott Jacobs

i am not a flattering piece of flesh, where within me lies a masterpiece of your ideals which gather momentum from nonexistence and diversion. i stand still in my peaceful hours waiting for myself to give in to my own temptations of when life no longer suggests itself any further and leaves nothing more than options optionless and blank...i crawl under the whisper that carries the dark night to mourning unnoticed... i am he, the shadowed star that releases only the non-light, the dim, the uncherished visions of yearning unto saturn and sisters and brothers and folly of mistaken road. i, worn thin, cherish that splendid halucination of being that walks admired from every corner that was not in her mind in her youth... trampling the paths of the focused, her focus, she conqours in roman armour of female flesh the developed patterns of regret, remorse, revenge, and relentlessness- wounds of sight of stare of another of her next to's and besides, she blames the wind gone an
d damns the child- left to brood in blood in blanket and day... velvet black sheets of ocean crashing upon the quenched thirsty toungue of the sands under the bright night lite of the sky is but a vague rememberance of the after thoughts of bliss, as resting in peace prevails...


ice horns

by

Scott Jacobs

coffee cup filled at midnight
ringing of a beautiful voice
from earlier conversation
long distance
when the sun was still rainbowing
through the ice horns hanging off
the trees


from..."the gaunt smile on crooked teeth"

by

Scott Jacobs

..and his steps forever followed the idea of passion within peace, like sleep walking out of a dream to pursue the vision in the physical, away from an old retired self that lay morbidly vacant without the resounding flashes of joy and beauty...his steps, forever, finally led him home, to his own place away from the crowds and the curtains and the roads and the tears and the seas sweeping up the lost that lay hopelessly gone from this world out of their bodies out of their minds- lay hopelessly pale and dead, having only, if anything, loved with all the hearts delicate and violent pumpings.... he walked into the night and the endless darkness, the hollow cold calling from the very end of the dream, and a fading image seen misting off from his face becoming timelessness and space was nothing left of him but a faint gaunt smile on crooked teeth.

Best Phone Rates EVER!

interpretive dance with a shade

by

Scott Jacobs

wanderers exiting their bodies
entering the darkness

Submit a poem for analysis.

yellow snake, i ask of you

by

Scott Jacobs

ultimate nothingness
i want not even you
these are my dead desire prayers
i read the little prince today
shattered devistated and sad
i have my rose
my roses
i do not want a garden
i want no more
perhaps just the yellow
snake flashing past my feet
gone

Poetry Competition

2:12 a.m. insomnia blues

by

Scott Jacobs

middle of winter sleeping on the couch no money no idea nowhere. but i can't realy sleep, roll over and around and wonder when i will need a drink again, probally after i pace the house for five hours after breakfast- four coffees, lunch- four more and the jitters, fixing my clothes, they're all crooked and uncomfortable, kind of like the bar stool with a short leg and it doesn't spin around, made for falling off, not drunks. i fall in love with every beautiful girl i see, i've seen two so far, beautiful girls, they just don't want me around, just want to love me away from me. i believe in the great mystical universe full of phenomenon unexplainable wordless commotions following me around, magic is real all there is. i stopped recording my dreams because i realized they are more important than now, and i would go crazy for good. Fitzgerald writes beautiful beautiful passages in the middle of bore rubbish and it is all worth the wait..."couples drifting, head to head, tow
ards the satisfactory inexpensiveness of nowhere..", see what i mean. i am finding new gray hairs on my head each day and i am only 24 years old, my mind is rotting. i listen to Mahler, mostly his fifth these days, and i cry every time- i know i don't have it in me. i used to throw my blood out of my lungs onto the mic and let my hands rip apart beating drums knowing my time is already up. now i am sullen wreck of body, a twinkle of dead starlite fallen. time trapped me, another one in the bin. it's 2:33 a.m. now..i write slower than i used to..usually i would have written 71 "poems" in 11 minutes. i miss colorado and virginia and vermont and italy and amsterdam and wyoming and oregon and chicago and nyc and everywhere but here, never here, i never miss this place and i am suppossed to call it home, they would expect me too, so i have to move away soon and never come back, just an experiment to see if when i die in a few years or a few more years if they will drag me dead ba
ck here and "put me in MY place"? i don't want the adventure everyone around me wants, i just don't care, there is no figuring any of it out and that is my last word all together, plus i don't like figuring because it is all busy work, time fill. they think i have given up, they don't see that i have just found everything i need already..i have already accepted you can not have what you want, nor should you, i guess..but you need what you need, so you take it and you try to sleep at night and wake up in the morning. it's 2:43 a.m. and i won't sleep for a while, ashamed of my short bad "poem". but, i will dream of my love.

Best Phone Rates EVER!

wet vagina and a noose

by

Scott Jacobs

the heavy wet snow fell today
and my car i drove that was not mine slipped all down the street and almost crashed but i downed the entire bottle of wine, wanted a beer but the girl drank the last one, said we could share but i wanted to leave rather than share and i couldnt get off the street cause the car slipped and the tires spun and i didnt give a hoot. drove around waiting for stars to shoot, waited to watch the dying die and leave a streak across the great dark northern night sky, a great divide of moment and death. i drove and forgot i was drunk which is like being sober which means it doesn't matter in the end anyway. it was cold and my breath stained the windows of the car so i could only see fuzz misty foggy
moments which made it more fun, and corners were potential disasters. i am the silent sort, til you get to know me and my toungue ranks of booze and i know everything around me. the silent type who wants the girl everyone wants and noone can have til i have had her and she is free again or dead again or embarrassed of her neverending beauty. i am profound until i am drunk everyday and getting up at noon and laying around all day waiting for life to get interested in living. there is no day after today, no day before us. sex is ugly and promotes whatever life we are living this very moment...ultimate revolutions are castrations and abortions and silence. the misconception everyone has of change, is that to do so you must throw a loose bolt into the machnine...the truth is, is that the way it is done is by removing a bolt. i will leave this place, for good.

Submit a poem for analysis.

moon

by

Scott Jacobs

gonna be done, by the time this day ends, rollin along like a lifeless heart on the river, soaking up the shadows cast by the darling trees covering up the sky, rollin along the life road outta nowhere searching for that golden throne, sitting back in the emptiness wetting my toungue with the last splash of mouth watering amber flow of tired southern whisky getting me all warm inside from the neck down beginning to lose it all like a coma fall, waiting here just waiting for that moonlite to come strolling in through the leaves and lay itself shimmering across my river bed to nap like the lazy lighter of night sky it is and will be, and those little stars so much bigger than the moon but more silent and distant and unconcerned with here and now where i am and we are, all we miss while we are awake, all we miss while we sleep, gonna be done by the end of this day, can't carry on much longer like this, can't say anything except i have had a most beautiful life and i am tir
ed and not up to making something of myself or anyone else, i love that silent moon laying on top of me each night never saying anything, never worried or anywhere, i love the lips she kisses and the eyes she twinkles, i can't carry on like this, saying nothing to noone...carry me my river, rest with me my moon...

Poetry Competition

in a bar, thoughts

by

Scott Jacobs

reckless abandon
and the often regrets
of the socialized
formulae
has sung to me
tonight a lullabye
bringing me back
to my youthful
carelessness and
astrangements
wandering through life,
the dirty desert,
the empty entirety
of unfulfillments...
each step more and
more awkward til' the
collapse of my body
upon exit of myself
sending forth being into
starlight journey
across the galaxies
and eternity.

Best Phone Rates EVER!

feb. 11 2003

by

Scott Jacobs

a new england fall leaf
running rainbow of browns and
yellows and oranges and reds
dangling dead from branches
limb to limb fallen sailors
bodies limp and hanging over
the crows nest bent at the waist
victims now of only the wind
and her gails and the waves and
her void.
the magnetic pull of time
bringing all that is living
home once more
and the green trees tomorrow

Submit a poem for analysis.

Feb. 13th 2003

by

Scott Jacobs

the inner walls of the institution
painted silently with the skulls
blood and screams
bloody railroad tracks
spanning the length of
the white corridors
reaching for the other side
of the end of the hall
past the bars of the windows
where the color was accented
always with the flavor and
the scent of each moment
a romantic bouquet

where have all the ghosts gone

Poetry Competition

america

by

Scott Jacobs

goddess in a black robe,
she is beautiful
but i don't like
her inards

Best Phone Rates EVER!

early a.m. indigo

by

Scott Jacobs

seem to be insane, i do
and i can't bother with it anymore
the struggle of finding out
of caring too much and being cared for
it all becomes loathesome one day
when she see's me turned inside out
hells garden and a path outlined
of lilacs and stone
the fire-flies flash
in a nocturnal day
all light becomes darkness
for a moment, flickering of the sun
the sun a star burning burning
8 degrees tonight
i havnt left the house in two days
the house is sick of me and the
moon thinks i am a cheater
kissing someone else
i kiss noone, my dreams are
scared of me now, they don't come
all my friends are loosing it around me
its my fault too
i am waiting and waiting and waiting
and life never waits even if it could
i cant even drink and get drunk
some would call it a good thing
where are my twelve steps back on
the program, to get me ignited once more?
"you'll find love again"...
i am not looking
i already found it
it seems to be too much a hastle to
hold on to things
and i don't believe in holding
on anyway...but my heart does
and my heart will end me,
cause when she stops pumping
i'm a gonner.

Submit a poem for analysis.

color exercise

by

Scott Jacobs

yellow angel laying
in the light brown
waving wheat field
with the green grass
at its feet
with your dark red
dress under the
purple fading day sky
waiting for the
white moon
the roses all around you
drink from the
deep dark soil
and i blush
peeking at your
rushing river hair
running over
your perfect pale breasts
right down to
the valley of
mysterious shadows

looking at you
i do not believe in any god
looking at you
i believe in colors

it snows

by

Scott Jacobs

it snows
millions of descending angels
too cold for heaven
too dead
looking a little closer at
the bottom
where the storm is
...
stepped into my slippers
a morning cup of coffee
sweet dublin smoke
from the old pipe
read some
ate some
went out to catch some
angels falling
wound up walking all
the way down to the sea
where the waves where reaching
high trying to snag those
poor girls out of the air
i turned around and
returned to my house
...
millions of angels
asleep
floating
white
like thin air

the girls

by

Scott Jacobs

the first girl
she was too much
wanted too much
needed too much
i tried to get in
just for the hell of it
she disgusted me
wanted me to feel lower
instead i just felt her.
the second girl
i remember
i went in and i exploded
the instant shock of heavens garden
too much for more than a moment
of my senses capabilities
we were crazy
two crazy people hardly ever
work out together.
the third girl was rotten
i wanted to poison her
with the left overs i
aquired in hell
wanted to fire in the demons
let them do their stuff
we did the nasty
her scent appauled me
twice.
the third girl
she was out of her mind
just sat on me and danced
too young too stupid
but all on fire
couldn't do it to her.
the fifth girl
was an angel
lost on earth
unsure and so abused
how one lets their mind
go away and their body
taken for granted i don't know
paradise was on her lips
that evening.
the sixth girl took me
and there was nothing
it was her job.
the seventh girl
i was back in heaven
this time walking around
a guest in gods womb
i wanted myself in there
to grow once again
i think she is immortal
i am mortal
it couldn't work.
the eighth girl...

the night will end the memory

by

Scott Jacobs

i don't have it in me
to walk away and leave
the look behind
the look staring from
lost years of neglect
a rancid forsaken
place in eternity
history is dead
there is no life in the past
i do not care what was done
only what comes

sweet girl
your golden form
your honey extracts
sweet on my tongue
i want you to come

squint

by

Scott Jacobs

the star with the eye in its hand
turned awkwardly towards the wind
breathing at its back
french kissed the sidewalk
like a bourbon stumble
calling all cars calling all cars
theres no room for insanity
when the old man is trying
to take away what you lived for
taking away the dreams

the nuns bum

by

Scott Jacobs

there was decay on his voice
decay in the mirror
and the hall he just walked down
walked all the way down
blood red carpet open
like a dying nun who made the mistake
of too many passed chances
too many prayers to a dick that
will never come
the alcohol wears a face
that carries all histories miseries
and triumphs with the ease
of a bum in heaven who knows
none of it matters
even when its all pain
even when its all joy
especially when its all joy.

blue birds

by

Scott Jacobs

one day
when my children see their daddy
crying with a shot of whiskey
at the kitchen table
i hope they learn
that he was once in love
like the birds
and the trees
and the silence
within the mouths
of two
deeply kissing
for eternity

march 7

by

Scott Jacobs

the new loss
lost and lose
and loose
gone wind go
break up in the sky
my chin is wet
i fell asleep
and all good dreams
tire me out
tie me up
take me in off these streets
i will be living on soon
and pleasure
i will find
in sun
sparkling off a
weeping puddle

leaving town

by

Scott Jacobs

i'm leaving town
for good for bad
for worse
i am marrying the leave
and sticking to her
i'll be a faithful
follower of her curves
and lines and
i will dine with her
where her shadows meet the sun
and where she sips from the
river with her cresent lips
tongue tasting the earth
i'm on my way
i've gone to play
and stay away
til the grave
or another day
i'm leaving town tomorrow
and i won't be back
at least not the same
i may return a stranger
like waking up after the long
crisp vivid dreams that make
you all aware of yourself and
others and love and lacking
and longing and yearning
always yearning
pouring in the liquids and smoke
of fire and lust trying to keep
it burning
can't let it burn out
or your not going anywhere
you won't be leaving town
anymore

each to

by

Scott Jacobs

each to each
one to the next
passings of our moments
connecting and forming time
the individual exists
nowhere but in
eternity
a billion eternities
forming infinity
or one prolonged
simple sigh
deep within the dark
universe

ending on a passing thought of Virginia

by

Scott Jacobs

i remember my violence
like it was yesterday
when the scam of dying
was seeded in my conscience
and the hymn of the public
spoke of torture and placid
emotions sending youth quick
into age old death.
i was once an adult, spying
on the young self of my soul
drinking until drunk
just for jolly
and sinking until the hill
was a mud slope of never
and the grave was constant
and colorful
calling sorrow
pain, grief
i grieved the longing
sigh o majestic sigh
high the hills climb for no one
i have seen this day
over and over
and life since ended
long before i recognized
the second of the same
my eyes too slow
for the light
why am i gone?

more in the a.m.

by

Scott Jacobs

quiet night
the silvery dim silence
hanging in the dark air
i walked around
close to the ocean
and listened to her
as she broke in white
crests upon the shore
scattering herself
selflessly over the sands
disappearing
deep in her womb i imagined
myself amongst her many children
engulfed weightless and deaf
carried by gravity and
a moons pull
revolutions of the earth
keeping me under her dress
i watch her disrobe
layer by layer
each wave more showing
more naked
i walked to the ocean
and i walked away from the ocean
and i knew no secrets
i found no truth
but the lonliness each
body must endure
naked and exposed

march 25th thought

by

Scott Jacobs

today i found peace for a moment
lived in it forever
it was like a day i remember
in charlottesville, virginia
or somewhere in virginia
in the early a.m. after all
night driving back from a
show...pulled off to watch the sunrise, ran
into some fields and farms
watched the sky catch on fire
i was with nicole
we were friends then and i loved her
we were with a guy peter too
and they were off standing by a tree
a big beautiful twisted old tree
hugging the hills
not letting go
and i was off at the bottom of
another hill and i was
staring into the huge exploding sun as it came up
in oranges yellows red whites and
flashes of death and birth
and i would stare into it and see
myself there staring forever
myself there in the past and in the future
and in the moment which brings you both
the past and the future
and i would look back at nicole and peter
and i knew they were there forever too
and i heard nicole call to me
to come join them
and i loved her
and i walked to them slowly
and i was crying with joy
a joy i never knew
like all pure emotion that comes from nowhere
i am standing watching the sunrise
and i was there today in another place doing
something else
and one day this world will come
to an end
when i die.

after Keats

by

Scott Jacobs

i read a letter Keats wrote
to his beloved
he spoke of an hour in exchange
for any further breath out of his skull
or out of his pen
just to be with her for that one hour more
he told her this
like only a poet could
not being considered something other
than in love

i do not yearn
because it pleases an image
i dreamt at the bottom
of a lonely glass of spirits

a broken heart reaching
towards a flame
towards most
redeamable aspects of humanity

mine, o if not ours
star, beautiful star

o fair one

by

Scott Jacobs

what emptiness i find
what void and inexplicable chaos here
what mesh meld of dirt and wine
water and blood
what vagrant rant from the mouth
of a crying river
what soiled past leaves its trail
unattended of lost ghosts
what patterns folding in the sky
brings the mind closer to the
steep side of the divide

once i was what emptiness forgot of me
once i was stranded, sick and more sick
once i was each day passing
arm in arm with time and the rain

but once i was o'er the soaring peak
of the mountains misty halo
nesting upon our childrens mothers
skin and kissing love on
her fair lips
pacing out hours and lasting
like god wished
all in love all in splendor
all in fire and yearn

o i missed you
o i lost you
o i found you

and could there be but
one more day
after such beauty beheld?

april 6th

by

Scott Jacobs

and here i sit
at the evenings goodbye
the resign of a modern time
sent forever and eternal through the past
wasted in the notion
of purity and bliss
of knowing another and
more than another which makes
others- makes more than one and thus
plural....
no god i was birthed from
no higher sense or wisdom
no right no wrong
anything truly open will
pour within and without
from within and from without
i believe in not your person
i believe in not your deity
i believe in nothing and nothing
absence and all its forsaken travels
yes, she is my path which is my own
what vision i make of goodness
and divinity,
that which does no harm to another
nor harm to any
what love have i after her?
what mistakes will my body choose
to follow my mind into?
i am no longer pure...
i, rank waste soldier of time
leading my body into the pit
into the bin
of disolving humanity...
lost, i am lost!
i lost her and i lost her again..
she- the sweet shine in dark sky,
pure and fair star
pure and fair star

sospiri

by

Scott Jacobs

my name in cement
birthed on and lived to
tired fingers chipped away
a short story with no plot
myth after myth
what satisfaction has the author
when he retires at days end
to meal and rest, what knowledge
has he gained, what truth has he told
but history of numbers?

i add nothing to this mess
my mistakes are taken for granted
the last to decompose?
what endured stands true
and stains time?
what poet intoxicated in bar or pub
party or place has yelled from table top
of love and not been taken for a fool?
i don't care about words and all the actions
that are defined by our fragile mislead
grasps of interpretations of words
love, what love
sospiri
the heart weak and blood slow
the blushing warmth
turning down the avenue
and the skyscraping skyscraper
illuminated in the evening void
a crescent rock aglow
all the ghosts spinning
weaving the intricate web of
the lost and the cherished
and the yearning
complete and boundless yearn
reaching to god and stealing
the emotion from the center
running around just to run into
another one running around
collide, sweet humanity
collide and make of it all
love!
naked on the avenues
naked pure streams,
ah
sospiri

sea

by

Scott Jacobs

liquid mirror
velvet glass
dark and deep
i disappear into you

winery night

by

Scott Jacobs

when Oregon was a place the path ended
i was not around here 3,000 miles away
drinking the cheapest beer in the bar
and going home to be a writer who doesnt write.
when art fell from the hands of god
i was silent in time.
when Apollo spoke of words ringing
wooing Venus and her like
or when Bacchus sipped from the strange
and ran through dream
i was no vision, like tomorrow-
gone and black, receeded in a memory
of a fortune tellers gift.
i sip the wine when theres wine.
i eat the food when theres food.
i can not help but inhale this air,
the very air you've just exhaled.
and what has become of me and what
will become?
o mystery and love
yonder like Oregon
or a shade of Apollo
making love to Venus
in a drunken vision
Bacchus left in space
one lonely night in a
meadow full of weeping
flowers- blanket of mist
and a moon, dark velveteen
silhouette of trees and hill
napping in the distance.
there is a poem blowing
around in the wind,
lost in the woods.
you only read it once.
it has surely since
become earth.

mid april crystals

by

Scott Jacobs

colorless flame bound by the tempted
throws of a grace wailing into the
night sky on the moons wane-
i held the bar tonight, held
her up with my tongue, tasted
the insides and felt the warm flow,
christened the inner spirit
with the inner spirit of myself-
we were born towards each others
selves, half of whole, part of
one piece- time and neglect
and the distance calling-
what wicked game of chance
or of fate or of what one may
choose to call it that we play,
dangling our very existences
out in a sick world of firey storm...
and what if one should burn
and the other lost becomes?
and what if both shall fall
and fall apart?
and what if reunion
is the one claim tomorrow has
of waiting around today?
o sickness and sadness
and cold strangeness around..
a ghost, a single ghost roaming
searching for her very body...

web

by

Scott Jacobs

i look out my window
and where is the world?
no, it is not in the streets
or the parks, nor in the bird i watch
swooping down from high with the
wind and catching a mid-day snack
with her golden beak flaunting her
ace aerobatics, sweet and delicate
Phoenix...
i walked into the woods one day,
the deep, the dark, the misty wood
the wood only found in that
solemn song of the merry drunken
recluse trailing behind his fellow
country men, behind to observe
the muddled enchantment,
i walked into these same woods
and searched for life
the same as i did the day i
stared the ocean into complete ebb...
all longings suffice to keep
the eyes opening each spin
of the spiders web in morn'
...and today i look out
my window, like into the wood,
or at the sea and wonder
where the world is...
in the web
the spinning web

liquid butterfly

by

Scott Jacobs

i tried to put it in words
what it felt like to be there
where i wanted to be
where the world came from
where the light could not go
where the imperious truth of
my self existed
and i dug in, heavy and hot
like times before only
this time i wanted to explain
it to myself in words
explain it to her
so she would know
what it felt like
perfect imagery for the
senseless bodies and
the loney nights
i came into the night
the perfect moonless night
where all of heaven awaits
and i found a beautiful
liquid butterfly
our sough in
a quiet bedroom...

april 23

by

Scott Jacobs

two, no more, together
and roads
and sky
and ocean
two, no more, together

unfinished ramble

by

Scott Jacobs

it is said
of time and space
that demensions hold borders only
forgiven by light and by absence
and there can be no light in absence
as there can be no absence in existence
forever changing
the guiding finger of the father
written by man
not humble, just man....

it is said that absinthe
that green warm believer in magic
the worm in the wood
tells secrets whispered
into your ear from the lips of
a little fairy
she tells lies that hurt no one
you choose to believe
you choose to not believe
and no one cries because of the fairy...

and i tell you
i know nothing of time
nor of existence or non-existence
or of the light.

and i tell you
it is true about the fairies
those beautiful fortune tellers
sweet whispers in my ear
but i tell you it is
only truth that is good for me.

so, deal with your history
that rotten false beast, raped and raped
by man!
so, embrace the magic
and the beautiful truths that are no
good to anyone but you...creative fiction
not manipulated to hold or tell!

once upon...

by

Scott Jacobs

i burnt in the sun
orange fruit on fire
in the great sky
i, pacing the earth
waiting for the night
i paced and paced
dreamt of golden fruits
and silver cups filled
with crimson wine
the color of a northern
river lazily flowing
at dusks first hour
when the suns blaze
scatters the rainbow
over the land
oh, and i burned
in that sun
as i stared through
the glaze
i was lost
on a walk with my
skull back in
time and thinking
of when the sun
was a rose blooming
and of the breeze
comming in the window
cool on my skin
laying next to
an angel in white
til late noon
we did not care
about the passing
day or about
what we may or may
not miss
we just layed there
and all was perfect
o today i was burned
by a careless sun
unconcerned with
wanderers and
sadness...

april evening

by

Scott Jacobs

the place and the palace and the walk
i took to the end of the road
dusty and forgotten, trot trot trot on loose and
awkward foot. to the troll who stopped me
and asked of my journey i replied
"i am nothing but a vision, an apparition
a waste and a cloud."
rain flooded the streets, not the fields, and the
wild life recognized for the first time
that the end was not the end
just the start of something else.
my teachers taught me i was lazy.
i taught my teachers they were sulking for
a past self...
wither my sweet angel, in the wind
by the forest...wither until your spirit
is a blanket over time...
love, what sad and distant bellow
renounced by the sin...