Category: poetry

Almost Freezing

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Aidan Roof from Pexels

Killing my mind every evening, holding it back from the green light.

The current hits it with pleading but I won’t budge or put up a fight.

My fists are by my side if I ever need a savior for my tongue’s messes.

While everyone’s running in circles, the generals are launching stresses.

It’s too risky to reach my arm out for that green flame in these times.

But what if I don’t and it’s over, there’s no substance in between these lines?

Ah! The sweat dripping down my back are almost freezing as I plan the escape.

Three years later I’ll either be dead or in a desperate need of the brakes.

Give me a break. Put a pause on this and rewind in a more peaceful decade.

Decadence is slipping through their fists but the damages are prepaid.

So I keep on slaughtering my brain at every crooked turn, at every twist.

To cut these demons out of my dysmorphic body I might need an oculist.

-JW

Rules Of Fleeing The Burning City

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Ellie Burgin from Pexels

You can’t rely on this path dug by rebels like me.

It’s been crossed and dulled, impossible to see.

Can’t ride, can’t crawl through it in your Ante attire.

You won’t find a patsy to help you escape this fire.

Neon boneyards flaming in distance, viva Las Vegas!

Leave! Take all you can carry, call a powerful magus.

Hide with someone you trust in the city of betrayed

And hope this isn’t a night that you get played.

Cut all contacts or sweep them under the rug.

Don’t tell them what’s going on, don’t give a hug.

You can only swear on words of a rebel, hold on tightly.

Move up to the east, and keep moving there nightly.

Once the neon pollution leaves your left lung, sleep in.

The river is poisoned, the hills can always steepen.

As the air of the burning city flees your thirsty lips,

You’ll look back just in time to see how it still grips.

Staring back at you with its promise and realization –

Nothing incinerated, your mind was the ruination.

Those city towers were toying with your psyche.

You can’t rely on this path dug by rebels like me.

-JW

Covering The Petals

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo from Pixabay

Running for your life is not good enough, go faster, over the speed limit.

Ruining everything sacred in this looped fantasy of yours taught me to skim it

But never showed me how to sit through a storm with my blinders shut.

Your neck twisting around mine, pulling away, and we’re stuck in this rut.

“Life has no meaning,” they say, “if you waste it trusting your own guts and bones.”

“It has no meaning,” they repeat, “if you share love through cables and telephones.”

But it’s not easy to follow someone playing god with menacing conviction.

It’s hard to walk down the road of not being able to tell apart fact from fiction.

I keep bleeding on the razor’s edge, fingers all cut up from pretending I’m fine.

I leap forward and rock back, knowing too well that they’re approaching from behind.

But the mountains echo my pleas for safe escape and I see dew covering the petals.

The melody goes silent as I escape this dead-end of dead eyed people

Giving souls out as rentals.

-JW

Speaking in Tongues

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Simon Matzinger from Pexels

Don’t waste my time, I know how to do it on my own.

The tears dry by turning to ice while they call me Joan.

I might be a heroine but not yet a saint, don’t lean on this loan.

Sky stinks of pastels and my soul evaporates into acetone.

Birds outside of my window are shooting for the pale moon.

Hours passing by, promising that I can leave this place soon.

The destiny is dragging out my breaths to the ancient runes.

I don’t mind theatrics but this murder feels like a honeymoon.

The further down the road, the more absurd it all becomes.

So much time to spend, yet we have to follow the beat of the drums?

Let me scream into the world’s pillow while everyone hums.

So much time to waste, so many lively lungs but it seems –

No one is noticing the swords and the guns.

Am I speaking in tongues?

-JW

Hometown Blues

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Matheus Natan from Pexels

Eyes wide open, staring into the one hundred little defeats they’re selling.

Their children – infected with prejudices, it’s the only sound they’re spilling.

Broken childhoods sold on every street corner, spreading faster than rabies.

Their boys never learnt that girls don’t have to grow into convenient ladies.

Hair locks daintily combed back to avoid any confusion or unspoken rumor.

In towns like this word spreads through gazes and bites harder than a tumor.

If you think I’m too harsh, go ahead and cut those looks out of me, I dare you.

But let’s be blunt – you can’t imagine the suffocation if you weren’t there too.

All seven heavens could open for me but I’d still look back, scared to be followed.

Don’t beg me to sing those hometown blues again

If you’re not prepared to be swallowed.

-JW

Father’s Day

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Belle Co from Pexels

Youth leaning over the half-built walls is not that upsetting but don’t turn away.

If you grew up when metal curtains were burning, there’s debt you need to re-pay.

You’ve been the dead horse beating back for far too long, and we’re not playing.

If you don’t want to listen to your children one bit, please know:

For this party you’re stuck in – we’re not paying.

I learned a thing or two from my daddy on smiling while playing deadly or dirty.

The lessons pour out of me as I’m wiser, they won’t stop until I’m far in my thirties.

Makes me wonder – what was it in him that made so many lost souls scared to death?

But then I remember how horrified I was when for a second he was my only safety net.

No backstabbing or second thoughts in that mind, only going straight for the kill.

So if I could see through his petty lies, don’t hold me back and ask me to shut up

Until the very moment my heart is perfectly still.

Let the youth lean on the same fences you’ve been holding up for many seasons.

Let the youth learn how they were props that you only kept in place by threatening

To charge every challenger for treason.

-JW

Tightly Sealed Freedom

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by abtin mohebifar from Pexels

The three musketeers of the end of all things are coming to our town.

The fake sun is trembling and neon is shining through a worn-out frown.

Apathetic noon showers my neck with kisses it doesn’t really mean

And I can’t remember how I lost my lustful self and turned into a fiend.

The target on my back is turning redder each day, getting lighter by minute.

Once it gets as big as the Ritz, you’ll see how Fitzgerald is going to spin it.

I embrace the last days of this tightly sealed freedom with the force of a madman.

Not packing much for the departure as you can never be ready for badlands.

Scoria and erosion reaching for my pound of flesh, is resisting even an option?

I’m dreaming about running but doom might be the answer for this corruption.

“No, don’t listen,” I hear someone whimpering right beneath my bleeding helix.

The three musketeers are approaching in distance and I sigh.

“Let’s give this place another shot but not lend it any credence.”

-JW

Iron Boots

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by João Cabral from Pexels

Forceful interrogation tactics greedily pushed on fragile necks.

Overturned rules pawing their ways to palaces built out of gloomy wrecks.

No monster frightening enough to make me look back at the fear.

I’m not putting my head down for you, I’m tired of speeches so insincere.

Pressure me all around the clock, dig me some ditches and holes.

You’re still the one who compensates just to feed the moles.

The water you fed me was poison but why would you bat an eye.

You’d rather ignore the pain you cause and scream at the man in the sky.

I’m tired of seeing your filthy paws reaching for the promised glory.

While you’re building skyscrapers, I’m glad I reached the second storey.

So I’m keeping my head up despite you stepping on it with iron boots,

And if you decide not to shoot, we both might see the day when our spite

Turned damaged flowers into fruits.

-JW

A Pin Drop

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by Alina Vilchenko from Pexels

What do you expect me to say? There’s nothing left.

It’s so quiet you can hear a pin drop, or a heart stop.

All the exits guide to the left.

Was there any fresh love between the two of us anyway?

Maybe we left it to rot for too long and forgot,

And decided to give it another day.

Is there a nice way to say “thank you for letting me down”?

I hope you don’t overreact when I lose my selfless act

And start selling the love in pounds.

Why are you always so quick on your feet to chase self-pity?

The night I went silent the first time, you became the mime

And I ran towards the city.

…I should’ve known when you came back, it felt annoyingly iffy.

Tonight I’m shaking you out in beams like a fever dream.

I’m free and I’m claiming this neon city.

I’m turning my kisses into hickeys.

-JW

Whatever Rhymes

jackiewrightauthorLeave a comment
Photo by cmonphotography from Pexels

We’re all raised with these naïve ideas of our identities but we don’t know,

We sing along to whatever rhymes and when it doesn’t, we amplify the audio.

“You’re not the bad day in your story, you’re not even the narrator.

You’re neither the background noise nor the all-knowing, sad traitor.”

This is how we’re guided through earlier years, believing it’s all there is –

Why wouldn’t it be, if it makes so much sense and makes our lives muy feliz?

The faster we grow, the harder it gets to find truth in those poorly written tales,

And with every piece of faith we breathe in, there are seven parts of us that exhale.

“You’re not the worst day in your story, you’re not even the almighty narrator.

You’re neither the background cacophony, don’t be a goddamn traitor!”

The more they repeat, the quicker you reason your way out of their crossroads,

And once the spell’s broken, the princes turn back into the ancient swamp toads.

But don’t be ashamed or worried – we’re all raised on these old world remedies.

We’re safe as long as it seems to a passerby that we’re still on our knees.

-JW