Current poems in progress...

Tirade

Get up.
It's a long way down
the hill to this country
of boarded up frowns.
People get high.
People get stoned.
If time is money
then life is gold.
Don't feel lonely,
blue skinned and cold.
Give me shelter
from days of old.
Mellow me out
you sweet satellite.
Drunken angel
hell on your side.

Before Revelation

These are spots in your love feasts,
while they feast with you without fear, serving only themselves.
They are clouds without water, carried about by the winds;
late autumn trees without fruit,
twice dead,
pulled up by the roots;
raging waves of the sea,
foaming up their own shame;
wandering stars
for whom is reserved
the blackness of darkness
forever.
JUDE 1:12-13

Autumn

Late at night, I sat at a bar called “nowhere”
to have a drink with others with my same fears
strangers in solitude engaged in frail companionship,
drowning our life´s insecurities in tobacco and beer,
while on the inside my soul drowns in copious tears.
I raised my bottle to the tired-looking guy next to me,
¨It is autumn. I am alone, thinking of her, as leaves fall.¨
he said as he acknoledged me with gesture that I could see,
¨Her presence was the only light that made me whole
replaced by the melody of my soul´s pity that I can´t ignore.
Those bright sunsets of my distant, happy childhood
That warm wind that shakes the children of spring,
the woods´ lovely sounds which echo new life,
Without her presence just do not hold meaning,
and those winds now only carry me to internal strife.
It is autumn. It seems that I debate my life´s resignation,
I am alone and my body feels that autumn is an empty journey,
my feet have grown tired in the long roads to love and pain,
a pain that pulsates and weakens and yet remains and remains
until I find confort inside a bottle, my new best friend.¨
I nodded as I savored my last taste of fermented barley,
Thinking of you, hearing a familiar song from a stranger,
words of long lost love, the music of the autumn night
My hopeless friend could easily be confused with me,
but it was my decision as I was the one that set you free.
¨H¨

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Brought to you by Budweiser
-------
give me a break.
-------
Hermestri:
Excellent I believe that "style" often announces a superb writer. Three lines into your beautiful poem, I knew who this poet is. Thus can many acclaimed poets be identified by their "style". I'll sit with you in a bar any day.
sg

-------
I sometimes wonder
where you are
it's autumn,
leaves now fall
are you near or far?
Have you found love aknew?
the kind I had for you,
gentle, caring and true
do you sometimes miss me too?
because happy days in life are few.
.
xoxo2

-------
"H", You always touch me with your rhymes, so again I add my grain of sand. xoxo2
-------
"H"-it occurs to me (belatedly) that you are not Hermestri. What an idiot that makes me in my comments above about how I can recognize his style anywhere. LOL. I seem to recall that you explained about a former poem you had written in "Hermestri style" that you admire his work. Either I am a fool or you are an excellent imitator. I don't think that Hermestri hangs out at bars, probably. He probably is more likely to be found wandering the stratosphere searching for his dark images. Anyway, I liked your poem and I'd still have a drink with you. lol

Your Angel

Hold on to your angel and don't look down
to the writhing masses of demons below
Hold the hand strongly with your own
If you fall now you may never, ever
find a new angel
Never turn your back on a good thing
or get comfortable with love
Always cherish, and be amazed by it
for each love is precious, unique
the only one
Hold on to your angel and don't let go
let the whispers of evil dissipate
As you fly so high above
to a place you've never been before
...

Bonfire

The smell of bonfire
and life
which breathes into me
from one mouth
to another
and resonates
with such a dizzy state
of memories
in which we try to create
specifically on command
but not necessarily planned
and by the end of the night
time has a pulse
beating so strangely
to the rhythm of you
now on my side

`
the deer.

the van hit it,
hard and fast,
no specific lines or details, just a noise. loud and dull all at once.
half a breath in and then everything started getting
all painfully slow, slow like you can't do anything because there's no time but you know this isn't supposed to be lasting so long, not like this,
going down and then up confused with adrenaline and back down twisting and squirming and pawing and back down and around and down and down and down
then
back and forth, trapped by the roadside fences, driven to knees bowing and shaking again and again, fur and blood and spit leaking from it's mouth and matted around pleading eyes.
head down, a few breaths, and finally, thank God, freedom.


)Kaleb
-------
This could not have been captured so rapidly and, at the same time, quite delicately. Amazing. You rock my world Kaleb.

`

I feel the wait for you
crawl beneath my skin
moving
but nowhere in particular
so delicately scattered
awaiting in the summer
of my mind
The Croatian Queen
awaits for me.
I would be your fool
a fool for only you
you fool me too
with a single look
that is
impossible.

The Truth

I hear complements
from friends
and strangers
words about beauty
filled with curiosity
smiles and innuendo
with hidden desire
but none compare
with your shy
smile.
.
xoxo2
-------
I love this. -Jesse

In London

beneath the new bridge
offwhite stems of broken pipes
amber bones of beasts


a lost meal ticket
two complimentary beers
she shares her secret


-------
beautiful.
þ
-------
Thank you :)
I think now I would change 'shares' to 'tells'.

`
the dance, for awhile.

i anticipate
blacks and blues and bruises,
near misses and occasional jabbs to the jaw,
everyone dancing around me, with dance shoes, with glares, with fists,
but with you in my corner,
gentle, nodding, knowing, waiting, healing,
i'll avoid the knock-out-blow,
the knock-out-blow.


)Kaleb

December Sunshine

In the cool December sunshine of your smile
I sit and bask for a while.
Chill in the air
and silver in your hair.
Icy blue and shiny too,
the light in your eyes
and comfort in the size...
Voice like a breeze
chilling me to freeze.
I await the coming thaw,
the wonder, and the awe
of the cool December sunshine in your smile.
~
*Phenom

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well done. i really like the rhythm and the almost-repetition in the first and last lines. i didn't feel like your rhyme was forced. good job! *grace

loaded ode, not an ode at all. and mixed preludes

1.
what i hold sacred:
a green bottle,
a container of pills,
the surface of the sun,
my little ground zero,
what i've loved,
all i've lost,
some willow trees,
your mouth.
-
2.
can i watch you cry?
you are a legend.
can i watch you learn defeat?
-
3.
lost in a forgotten
zig zag dream
of angles gone wrong
and curves cut sharp,
angels gone wrong.
my hand clutches this
cemetary ticket stub.
-
(main body)
so i hear
you are an
ADDICT.
we are not each other,
so what's your
friction
story
reason to live
therapy
recovery
process
skill
worth
blindness?
ah,
you have no time
to kill me with.
your skill is blindness,
not worth this process
of recovery, of therapy;
and it is your reason
to live, your story in
your head full of friction.
so i hear
you bleed
FREELY.
we don't need to see it.
but may i watch you cry?
and watch.
ah.
jerry
5/19/08
-------
I really like all of this but I find section 2 particularly impressive.
Did you used to post here as Jake a long time ago?
-------
nah. it's just me, jerry. since '98. thank you for your reading it and your compliment.
-jerry
-------
holy cow, i can't believe i've been reading what you've been writing for 10 years now! do you ever wonder what we've done to and for eachother through this page? i wonder how many regulars have been posting for over 10 years?
-chandler
-------
i'm coming up on 8.5 years, with a 4 year hiatus during which i wrote nothing here or anywhere else. excellent poetry, btw, jerry. *grace
-------
i'm at about 9.5....and the best thing about the yellow page is that it's always here, no matter what else is changing, poetry is a constant. great poem jerry.
)Kaleb
-------
Hey, I'm the person who initially asked if Jerry used to post as "Jake".
Chandler, in response to your question, this site had a completely unforeseeable and fundamental effect upon my entire life.
I started writing poetry here about 10 years ago, then after some encouragement from the 'regulars' of the time I started submitting my work to magazines and e-zines. As a direct consequence of that I met my future wife, and the entire course of my life changed.
-------
this is pretty damn cool. this page has made significant differences in my life as well. it was a completely random find ten years ago. how long for you, chandler? and mystery person, how long? i am wondering who you are.. and thanks *grace and )Kaleb, i always enjoy reading you folks, but never seem to quite know how to comment. and chandler, too. i've been away for awhile, but it feels good to revisit. raul, p (that character i cannot type), *phenom, INZANE, perry, Jesse, f (is that fallon?), Jake, and plenty of anonymous poets and others...man, i always miss you guys. bring it.
-jerry
-------
Good work here, jerry. And to answer, I've got 8 years under my belt, and though I may leave for a while, I always find my way back to read, post, or comment. I enjoy this page (and those who post) immensely. *Phenom*
-------
Hi there.. did someone mention my name? You with the life changing event
Good on ya my friend.. I don't write poems much anymore.. prose for the most part but I do come here to read from time to time and note with pleasure how some names return over and over with better and better work. Proud of you.
The yellow page now looks so much better than the class of 97 but I would not trade those days and times for anything.
God bless you all.. Jake

prostration

Snow
decays
under bare
feet.

I
remember --

þ
-------
yeah this is simple but it's not. it struck me.
-jerry
-------
thx jerry
þ

you were(right here)i am

i pretend like i do.
like i have pianos,
you.
i pretend to hold your hand.
i wake up
with the remote.
colored wires
making music
in far away boxes.
so i pretend like i do.
like i have pianos,
wires,
you.
06-09-08
-jerry

suggestion

I fall onto my
knees
in the snow,

birches
flanking me,
sleet freezes.

dying, shivering,
eyes wide

þ

possibility

it was only a moment and i was unaware
but i carried you close to my heart
when i didn't even know you lived
~
because i never had the chance
to begin to imagine your name, your smile
i don't know how to grieve your loss
~
but i do grieve
~
*grace

-------
This is a tender, beautiful poem
that cannot help but draw the reader into your sorrow
thanks
Jake

as _____ as it seems

jammed
into the dense end
of a burnt yellow mood
with fiberglass and old food;
measured seventeen feet long
and leaking at every
seam, all windows
windowless.
fast sound of
a pencil gone
mad, hissing and scratching
over fine watermarks,
making sense now
because it is in the other room.
06-17-08
-jerry

Tears
I am not waiting
nor am I searching
I am just contemplating
to hold in the pain

They fall for time wasted.
Years....5 exactly
like a nurtured vine that bears no fruit.
~
They fall for spent energy.
Used up and tapped out
as the meter keeps spinning.
~
They fall for missed oportunity.
Chances come and gone
like the last flight home.
~
They fall for aging beauty.
Gray hairs and celulite
where youth and vitality once lived.
~
They fall for many reasons:
Irreplaceable days, weeks, seasons.
Unfulfilled dreams, potential lost, forgotten love.
~
And though these tears fall,
know this above all...
I'm not crying for you.
~
Phenom*

Cool cascades of time
Have we fallen in line
To forget what it's like to be young
I have soldiered the fall
Memory wasted it all
To much work, far less pleasure, no fun
So I envisioned a night
Backdrop the Las Vegas lights
My bank roll as tight as a drum
The cooler was there
Once againg with that cold black stare
But I walked away with millions
The odds were five hundred to one

666 lives

i have had my chances. and i do not feel sorry or sad. how do i know i have had my chances? i have had Good People tell me.
i was given many. given. allowed. had them bestowed upon me. blessed with them. thrown at me. rolled up and lit for me. cut up.
and i used them. it has been a hard cube to swallow. like bone dice. to realize. i used them and the people that gave them to me. now there has been a
shift. minutes and months go by. static. there is no more change or adventure or discovery. and it is not nihilism. because i had a good time. now, static.
no one asks why. i hear a lot of why everywhere, but no one asks.
i cannot start a story, true or fantasy. i am only good at the middle part. if i can get you that far, then i have you. until i have to make the ending. then, drifting.
my pain is not real. i fabricate it. just like i fabricate the past. achievements. places. i am indominable like this. and i promise only to complicate.
my finger that was broken was your neck that snapped. the tear that came to me was your blindness. my cough your cancer. my serendipity your destiny.
what it boils down to is only boiling from your heat. mine comes from a burned out half life. i killed the men-women who built the concrete dome around me.
i have had my chances and things have never been so swell. i went to a holy place with floating cameras and high ceilings and a woman touched me.
her hands were very cold.
nothing has happened to me unless you were there. close your eyes turn your head and i am gone. or i freeze. look back and i look at you. static.
allotted. the chips are not down they are just gone. my blood is shrinking and the married side has become alien. green and classified.
and i know i am there in mirrors. i will walk by. walk on by.

ungrown

i am.
 
wait.
 
i realize i am a mere child at this thing.
and i'm trying to drive?
i am a pissant kiddie.
and i am so angry at this. i am red livid, motherfucker. eat that, Ladies. your theories are valid!
 
all you doctors and scientists, i stamp your theories valid!
 
i want to shoot you in the face, but i can't see your faces!
i'd like to cut your heart out, but i've already got one!
 
wait!
 
just let me stand in the frame of your bedroom door while you sleep and maybe dream of sharing time with me; it is okay i got this knife. your deep hissing breath will prevent me.
 
i am a child and i pretend!
 
'it's okay, we all do.'
 
yes, but i want it to die! ohoh oh!
 
this is poison, you are poisoning yourself if you look here anymore! but i am not going to stop baiting the trap! go ahead, be a martyr!
fuck your forgiveness. it only makes you feel better.
 
but i will do this!
 
there. i have cut a line in the top of my wrist. and i have separated the skin from the muscle. can you get in there now? i know you want to, and i just wanted to help. so crawl around. get under there.

will you breathe your life into my lungs again?

Marriage

marriage or, being married to you
♦
it's like being 5 years old in august
dressing up in Mommy's turtleneck sweater
♦
comfort
♦
familiarity
♦
neck stretching up to hide my grubby face
♦
stifling
♦
so much space to grow into
but i can't
♦
breathe
♥
~
*grace

against, again, a gain

clutching into the past
because (looking for)
the future is no jigsaw
puzzle. more like a
piece of ether.
 
a tourist in my memory,
of course is me.
and it makes me a
rubbernecker for all
common things.
 
a picture of downtown
and it's mainly windows
and concrete.
 
blood capsules in
the crosswalks,
packets of protein.
 
refineries tangled up in
painted steel and
sodium stars.
 
warehouses fronted by
steam and plain
coveralls.
 
rain rain and decapitated
bridges. brown water,
boating accidents.
 
mother pruning roses
on her back,
eyes closed.
 
'get the lantana
in the ground
before you go,
 
baby.'
-jerry
06/30/08

ub40 and virginity

at that time,
i failed to see the quirk,
or maybe the
pretty,
in the ub40
song that she summed our
love into.
 
it took a long time to
convince that
elvis did it first,
the song.
 
it took much less
time to convince
her that she
took my
virginity.
-jerry
07-02-08