Monday, April 16, 2012

Canopy

The mallrats cling to clothing and
unconscious media like under-developed
chaos and overdo assignments,
processing every ambition,
nothing’s enough painted on every face.

Full circles, clutching walkers,
alert and prepared, intense,
as if every moment precious,
bench squatters and calamine abusers,
a channeling egress of lofty thoughts.

A litany of posture, desperate for respect,
(like apples) bobbing for metaphors,
choking back humility with over populated
worth and (forgone) delusions.

High-rise Suits a parking maze away,
kept assets on sinewy wrists,
power-tie illusions, and hardhearted regulators,
monuments to a frail society.

Guilt laid out like a prim and proper buffet,
a wake, (of sorts)
celebrating the demise of consequence,
outlaws of conscience, suspended, irresponsible,
subjective clones held face down in the gutter.

© 2010/jdr

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Seed


Life was thin and breakable,
as I recall,
those days of immortality,
under optimism’s dangling branch.

The gathering at City Park on
lazy afternoons, consecrated eddies
of overstated philosophers, criminal
renegades, and misguided loyalty.

The ghosts of a troubled past
gnawed at my self-inflicted radiance,
coercing my over-ripened pride
and self-indulgent reprimand.

Aldus Huxley and Southern Comfort
my impervious barricade, buttons laced
with strychnine, tequila to bite back the
aftertaste and zigzag horizons,

I marched against a failing wind and
was met by iron bars, I loved my
land in betrayal, a paradox laced in
cold steel decapitating my pride.

Life was thin and breakable,
as I recall,
to gain acceptance undoubtedly
meant compliance, still, my shell
slowly became overcrowded.

Years had passed before I could
gather up once again and fight
for right, yet I fear I am stained
for eternity, a seed lost forever.

© 2009/jdr

Saturday, December 17, 2011

If I Were John Milton

"He who reigns within himself and rules passion,
desire, and fear is more than a king."
John Milton

If I Were John Milton

If I were John Milton;
I would embrace opportunity
with extreme passion.

Dedicate my life amid faults
of monarchs and reticent
freedom.

I would sharpen my axe to grind
with razor wit and stoic resolve.

If I meet his eminent stature,
I would shatter the chains of
disillusionment wrought on by
17th century Island madness.

I would travel abroad to the
Continent, engaging Italy and
Spain, they applauded my
verse written to their confusion.

I would dedicate my stay to
refinement of far reaching designs,
all the while writing endless verse,
pros, and revolutionary appeal.

I would witness a mad King’s execution,
a new reality for an abused nation.

Another step closer to sanity, the
light of my world diminishing, caused
by a compassion to write,
unwilling,...no the inability,
to live another reality.

If passion blinds, I would have been the first
embrace and the last unfinished story.

“if I were John Milton”

© 2010/jdr