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Jon Jul 2020
I dreamt I lived forever
And that age and wrinkle never came
I dreamt that the world was better
And that peace grew evermore

Her love towered over me
And my heart was still
Her spirit flowed through her body around my own
And grasped the depths that wallowed low

I asked her what my time meant
To live towards no end
To be and to not fear
That we are all here by chance
And to love the odds from our gods
That the moment was taken
And across a billion years and countless specks of stars…

We are here
And forevermore
Our love goes on
Jon Mar 2020
When the great unfulfillment hits you, you can only stare back at it and wonder what could be so wonderful to beat this thing and what could be enough to feel something greater than the emptiness sitting in your gut. You reach for what it might be and you scratch and claw your way to something, anything that has the capability of filling space. You scream at the sky and at the clouds if they will listen. You scream in your chest and your lungs fill with kinetic anger and it echoes in the space and pushes the emptiness further. You don’t want to work or create because that will make you face the truth about the quality of what you do and the truth about how good you are. You’ve spent your whole life feeling unique, only to find at every point on the path, that you are not and that the thing you feel is only coming to you from someone else who already felt it and expressed it before and better. You can regurgitate it and sometimes it comes out pleasant enough, and every other time it comes out smelling and stinking. And even in the pleasant moments, it still comes down to it being born from something else… every ******* time. So you stop looking and you stop working and you stop creating and you stop making anything and all bottled up potential remains stagnant and unfulfilled which leaves you the same. And thus the emptiness lives on and grows and thrives at the expense of your sanity, and thoughts of being something other than what everybody else is. Because in truth you hate them. You hate the ones that are like others and when they move and when they act you can’t help but feel contempt for the whole lot of them. And the contempt grows even stronger once you realize you are mixed in there right next to them. But you never really had a chance. And the ones that did only had it because they had louder and more obnoxious voices. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy and I am that dull boy.
I know it isn't a poem in form, but it felt like one in tone so thanks for bearing with me!
Jon Mar 2020
He spoke them into the world
And below they ran in circles

The women looked for freedom
And the men took the throne of the creator

To be worshipped

But in the end
There were only fathers left with the dead girls who sold them there
Jon May 2019
She embraced the absurdly impossible moment of her life
And she stretched out her arms and soaked in the star that brought her to life
She looked down upon the rest
The narrow-minded
The small eyes
The old knowledge
The ancient fear

She soared above them and the wind filled her
Jon Mar 2019
Her
I saw her the first time when I was young
And I did not know if it was a dream
Or the brief memory of one

And in that dream my legs gave way
When you do not know the strength to run
Or the strength to walk

I do not remember what she wore but I knew her then
The shape rolling from her eyes to her lips
Made every good and true feeling I had towards love

And she looked at me through the eternal population…

Then I knew no time
I did not know its passing or its changing
And I did not know its destruction

And when I am asleep so that I may see her again
And when she comes to me when my eyes close
She touches her cheek to mine and whispers

"Good night and sleep then
Let us now know love while we can
Here where time stops for us
Where there is no memory and where there is no fear
And here where I will always love you
Until I wake you in the morning"
Jon Mar 2019
In the winter our giants would come
In our end they would walk by our side
And with reason they spoke us to being
A perfection no chance could conceive
Through them we march on forever
And it is us only that they love

They turn our fear into evil which all men must hate
And what we love they make good for all to obtain
Our confusion is their path
And we breath life from their lungs
And without them our breath
Would be pushed out a last time

It is then that we need them
And towards that which all men must face
Some face it alone
And some face it too quickly
And others without any thought
But we will face it with our giants

And when it is upon us and we wait for them
We will look up and see for the first time
Past the place our giants stood
And into our creator’s eyes
The beautiful dust from which we came
And into which we will find our peace

— The End —