Tag: poet

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Throwback Thursday Poetry: In My Time of Dying

the days have grown beyond my reach
it appears my voice has begun to leak
listening to the Language of my Eyes
watching the distant Cries of my Mind
asking for the very last Sign
how shall i feel upon my Dark Demise
curious of my last days on the earth
what will happen during the time i die
will i continue to question my worth
will anyone notice as my body is dispersed
in the ashes my soul will lurk
until the last loved one no longer looks
at this moment, i am released
to the darkest of the deep
here i’ll stay
until existence withers away
and on that day
i shall be joined
by no one, that is to say
if i am alone on the final day

i would like to have peace
by the end of the road
but the way things are going
i just don’t know
if i will find happiness
before the end of my life
or if it will come
as i start to die
it would be ironic
to have the best day of my life
and fall with the Sun
back into the Sky
my life would end
as the Moon ascends
and the cries of the Night
would be gone out of sight
with no one to look or care
if the Divine Gift disappears
and the only one to think of me
is the voice inside Laughing

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

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Twofer Tuesday Poetry: Dreams Never Lost & Superficial

Dreams Never Lost

She sits alone looking out towards the Sea
On a Cliff covered in black rocks and dirt
She knows only abandonment and pain
She’s a bitter Dream that was forgotten
She remembers being a young girl’s friend
This girl and her Dream were never apart
For many years, they went on adventures
For many years, they planned their own futures
As time continued on, they grew apart
The Dream’s friend, she grew into a woman
And focused her attention on herself
She gave up on her Dream for easier life
This Dream now lost with no place to belong
She sits on her Cliff angry and broken
Each day grows darker, each day she’s alone
She’s a calloused Dream who has no more tears
One day she’s approached by an old stranger
An old woman who’s more like a Shadow
It is her young friend from so long ago
She seeks one more chance to follow her Dream
Two bitter old souls coming together
They leave the Cliff for one last adventure

Superficial

You ever see
A drag queen without makeup

It’s funny how
All those men can become
More beautiful than any woman

Even straight men
Call them beautiful

I think men
Are only attracted to
The makeup not the person

You shouldn’t have to
Paint your face
To get someone’s attention

Maybe if men view themselves as beautiful
They’ll think everyone else is beautiful

Drag queens without makeup
Are still
Beautiful

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

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Poetry Monday: Sky Lashes

He begins with a clean shave
And washes and dries the skin
He covers the whole face with foundation
Then applies more foundation
For highlights
Then more foundation for highlighting
And shaping the nose
He applies contour makeup
To go around the face
He sets the highlights with powder
Then translucent setting powder
For the whole face
He sets the highlights again
He uses a piece of cut cardboard
For the contour powder
Then more contour to shape the nose
Blending and more blending
He brushes off the highlight powder

The eyes require the most attention
First, he must cover the eyebrows
He uses a pressed powder to shape them
He applies gel liner to each eye lid
He paints the eyeshadow just below the eyebrow
Then more eyeshadow; purples and blues
Then liquid eyeliner; then the water line
He adds more eyeshadow below the eye
With false eye lashes, he looks like a she
But she’s not finished
She uses an eyebrow pencil then
A fine tip liner for the hair in the eyebrow
She adds blush when finished with the eyes
With a lip pencil, she outlines her future mouth
It’s larger than the real one
She applies lipstick and lip gloss to finish her face
She puts on her dress, her nails, her jewelry, her wig
She has transformed into a towering goddess

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.