Writer – Author
I’m worn out
I’m tired
I don’t want
To fight
With anyone
About anything –
I want rest
I want peace
I hate
These young bucks
Who think they
Have to prove
Something –
They’re insecure
And push
Others around –
I don’t like myself
But I accept me –
Stop fighting
Start accepting
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
On our next installment of Free eBook Fridays, we feature my most recent collection of poetry “Men Are Garbage”. This book has several personal stories and a few fun poems. Today only, until midnight, the eBook is available for a free download. Once a month I offer one of my eBooks for free in the hopes that those who download it will read it and write a review on either Amazon or Goodreads. Reviews are not mandatory, but an honest review will help promote my works and are greatly appreciated. Get your free copy before the promotion ends. Download Here.
Most of the poetry in this book I wrote within about a week. I would call it extreme inspiration or an emotional rage, but perhaps it was a little of both. I hope, in some small way, this collection will help the world. I never thought I would write poetry this much again, but I felt more passion behind this project than many of my other projects. I feel I finally found my voice when writing these poems and that voice has continued into more poetry which I hope to publish later this year.
I also sent this collection to the Pulitzer Prize committee for their award in Verse. I did/did not win. My main thought at the time, “I’m doing it to say that I did it.” Winning never crossed my mind. After sending copies of the book to the Pulitzer, I discovered a typographical error in one of the poem titles and my heart sank. I have since fixed the error and changed the cover, but my pride is still hurt.
James Pack examines masculinity and anxiety in “Men Are Garbage,” a book of poetry in which he reflects on childhood trauma and his time as a nightclub bouncer.
i’ve no self-esteem
i’m beginning to bleed
inside to out
i’m always in doubt
of myself
and everything i do
no one will help me
no one sets me free
compassion’s what i want
i never got a lot
trust i see in you
make my dreams come true
this is not healthy
i need some company
i cannot live alone
in my home
by myself
with no one to talk to
i walk down the hall
and stare at you all
you look at me weird
as if i should be feared
it’s not polite to stare
but i don’t care
where is the laughter?
what’s happily ever after?
i wonder about my life
mainly when i’ll die
stuck with myself
and nowhere to go
it’s hard to live this way
each day is gray
trapped inside my head
i can make nothing mend
my soul is in pain
please take it away
Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 