Tag: poetry

The Showman

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I guess I’ll just burn in my own mind’s oven

Or throw out my resume and build a new coven.

The thirteen of us will meet in the fields

Where strong people rise and weak men yield.

I guess you’ll just watch me take back what’s mine,

Not a word will object this, only deep sighs.

Once the flames start climbing high over our heads,

I’ll give you a minute to make the amends.

But I guess we’re just never going to fix it,

Go drink all the betrayal, you’re the one who mixed it.

This one time I won’t burn for your petty pledges,

Pick up the shreds, don’t cut the claws on the edges.

And I guess I’ll just stand as the rest of them bow,

You said it’s not the right moment – but the time is now.

It’s your time to take the heat as an atonement,

And you can keep calling me a dirty witch but, honey,

Soon they’ll see you’re only a showman.

-JW

The Nightmare Warriors

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Sing me to sleep, gift me a wicked nightmare,

Let them blaze guns but don’t allow me to fight scared.

Negotiate the best terms for my imminent release

And sneak crown jewels past guards holding the keys.

Vouch for my innocence in the highest of courts,

Block the gates, close the streets, sink all the ports.

But don’t ever wake me, wait ‘til I have my say.

The thrill will only last a night,

It will only linger for a day.

-JW

My Shame

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I threw my shame from the top of a mountain,

I drowned it in bottles and endless fountains,

And I even abandoned my home to lose it

But there’s no better medicine than facing the music.

I tripped over ledges in some haunted woods,

Lost myself in shine and Old Hollywood.

The shame kept crawling up my trembling spine

And the world laughed like I wasn’t worth a dime.

However, I knew better than letting it consume me,

Than running once again and inventing a new me.

I stopped in my tracks until it chased me down

And for a moment it was my time to drown.

But I can forgive scars that lead me to victory,

The stories of the vanquished don’t go down in history.

So once more I throw my shame from steepest hill –

This one on one battle will end with a kill.

-JW

December 18th, 2020

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Can’t help but wonder again – how many more

Pounds of flesh do I have to give away for free

To meet the norm?

And there’s nothing normal about this –

Shattering at 6 AM on a Monday morning,

Closing in on the dark abyss.

The pressure gets heavier each afternoon

So I stay inside to pity myself,

To curse at the moon.

But it reflects my chants like sunrays –

And there’s no way it ever gets better

If I stay.

There’s no way this story has a good ending

If all I grow to know

Is silence and pretending.

When my lips are shut, they grow stronger

On the power I gathered myself –

Until I can’t go on much longer.

Can I even go on from here, can I move?

Their tentacles strangle me

But what do I have to prove?

So I swallow the bitterness and resign the “sorry”s.

I don’t need a tougher skin,

I need to extract myself from your stories.

You can tell your greedy mirror image

To bear one more storm.

My part in this narrative is finished,

Recall your swarm.

-JW

Leave It Unwritten

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Empty mailboxes and coffee stands,

Time dripping like sheen grains of sand.

My face is a mirror to your illusion,

My face is a mirror to your grand confusion.

Silky dresses and muted city skylines,

Breath leaking out after lost hindsights.

I assume your beauty is here to stay,

I assume your beauty puts me on display.

Harsh words and unwritten sentiments,

Broken hopes leaking from overused pens.

Your eyes poke my brain until it’s bleeding,

Your eyes suck the ink dry every evening.

-JW

The Birds

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And the birds drop dead on the ground before my very eyes.

It’s nothing but a sight of someone sacred getting patronized.

Isn’t it nice to just watch yourself outlive them once more?

Yet – I’m scared I can’t carry on without my wings getting sore.

So the winds keep rushing us towards an eternity tonight.

The air is hushing us but we’re drifting like loose kites.

And I know the time and place to drop is nearing way too fast.

It’s nothing but a fleeting memory of world not meant to last.

-JW

The Monsters

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The monsters under my bed keep craving pure flesh,

The nails on their feet scratch harder when I try to start fresh.

But there isn’t a real bone in my broken body

So I never scream when they aim to cut or disarm me.

The monsters under my bed are stabbing my back,

Whenever I switch on the screen, they paint the room black.

And I know their feeding, they’re growing stronger each time

I let them pull me into the burning limelight.

-JW

Defused

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Nothing lonelier on this planet than the idea of you

I abandoned in the wasteland so many moons ago.

Nothing harsher than what I said after thinking through:

“If one of us leaves, the broken one will still be you.”

But you kept swaying your fists at me in full speed,

Crashing porcelain promises, covering all the leads.

My back can take far worse, you can’t make me bleed.

Even with all the force, you can’t outrun my breed.

And you can no longer walk over me like you used to

When your spell was the only curse I would lose to.

Gather your tales and go tell someone else I used you.

There will come a time you will accept

You’re defused, too.

-JW

Where The Sadness Ends

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I hide away in the buzz between your lips,

Touching your fingertips,

Amending all the rips.

You hold my hair back while I burn out bright

But only during the night

While lost in this blight.

The oxygen in my veins sings for you, too,

Perhaps I’m your Waterloo,

Yet – I feel your blues.

I hurt for every bullet you take in self-defense.

One day we’ll make amends,

And meet where the sadness ends.

-JW

When The Winter’s Over

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The spring is back in town

And my crowns are no longer made of wires.

Blossoms and moss grow on blood, crusty brown,

Spreading vaporized desires.

The leaves tickle slightly

As dazzling sweat trickle down the back.

You promised not to take my cries lightly

But the spring stole your tact.

My senses get attacked

With the vivid smell of primrose and tulip.

The chains around my wrists, once deep black,

Now clear and lucid.

The sun climbs in fast leaps

Over the tiresomely arrogant brick towers.

Its white light is a sweet, sweet release,

And I collapse in flowers.

-JW