Throwback Thursday Poetry: Lasting Impressions

lasting impressions of a happier time
when the innocence of a child plagued my mind

ignorance is bliss
that is the saying
the less i knew
the happier i played

not a care in the world
not a hint of shame
unfortunately for me
i thought ignorance was lame

knowledge overtook me
i began to use my brain
the only thing that stopped me
was the evil Hunger Pain

as i grew more aware
of my time and place
i started to see
everyone else’s true face

no one was trustworthy
no one was just
they all lived through a lie
they felt it a must

all one could count on
was choice and change
in my life of course
change was the thing

missing the sweet days of a happier year
but things will change more, that is my fear

Early poetry from James. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.

Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Anxious Creatures & Hiatus

Anxious Creatures

So many Twits
And Faces and Grams
With Snaps and Pins
Inside Tubes and Clouds
The world digitized – 
Despite the Links
We are disconnected
Alone
With a rectangle
Hidden in our pocket
And a fear
Of meeting a person
In person
Slaves in digital chains – 
We are social creatures
With social anxiety
So, we blog and post
And watch and like
Puttering in our homes
Day and night

Hiatus

I went four years without sex
I didn’t pursue it but didn’t reject it
Unless I was absolutely certain
That it was mutual consent
Either we were both sober
Or both drunk
Women liked being around me
Because I didn’t try to fuck them
Some of them wanted to fuck me
I was lonely but much happier

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Poetry Monday: The Magic Circle

The crystal to the North
In front of me
A glass of Moscato to the West
On my left side
A vanilla scented candle to the South
Behind me
A paring knife to the East
On my right side
My familiar, Milo
A Russian Blue
Sits disinterested
Supervising my ritual
He stares at me
Like cats do
Making me question
All my life choices
With the paring knife
I cut an imaginary door
To leave my circle
And refill my wine glass

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.