6 Poems from some of my books

Light is the ever birthed truth

Poem by JD Glasscock

Interwoven tilt of lips into upturned horizons, the hip man flips a coin while gypsy girls do thigh thrust shakes to the moon and an infant in the forest wails for nurturing....small men in rotting suits count green bills in the aftermath of self indulged boredom......she said in the wee hours of morning wisps, to hope and dream are the only steps to laughter......the hip man winks, the gypsy girls ethos mirth within the dance, the child gurgles bubbles in the turning of wails to twinkles finding eyes and the small men sneer as they continue counting, their world closing truth on their deteriorating frames.......all around the globe, wings are unfurling, spreading against the burgeoning dawn......laughter and hope are spinning threads forever renewing..

Whisper

Poem by JD Glasscock

a maniac in front of me, in shadows, slipping corners, just around the bend and when I follow, dead end....

When the dark licks the night , epiphany, troubled sleep, he stalks, slithers, creeps.........eyes strained, spasms, limbs, unsteady, shaking, heart, off timed, off beat, struggle, breath, heaving murmurs,, whimpers..he's close.....hands on hips close, lover close.....he's me, me......I fall to cawing crows, to broken tombstones, to ruins once churches....to pulpits once holy....prayer now a dirge ,uneven cobblestones, crumbled down roads, truths once shouted, now, echoes dwindling into the gray of symphony, apathy......blood runes upon hands......eyes, a thousand voices, howling , what was lost, used to be love, used to mean something..... killer.....flesh, ties to memory....to forgotten moments, when envy, greed , were not, idols of worship........a maniac in front of me, mirror, glass scratched, cracks, intonations, hunger....find me, in this pit, in the trenches, under the third corpse to the left, the child with the vacant eyes.....praying....no one is listening...whispers....

The Weight of a Gift

Poem by JD Glasscock

The long road, the eternal night, the ever vigilant moon, and the dream, always the dream, beckoning, a flicker of shadow and candle just on the edge of vision, just out of grasp....feet forever trudging forward, towards hope, to one day........hallow, hollow, lonely dirt bricks, I stumble upon the avarice of delusion and faith......which is true, which is the cordon i tumble along..............what in the end will define me? ...... heart falters, eyes dim, rimmed with deep circles of exhaustion......falling, fallen, .but there, always calling........fingers brushing..........knees ache, soul weary.......alone......has love ever held it's warmth upon my frailty? Does it need to? I get up, bones creaking, joints aching......can't give up, never...........I stumble forward in temporal stutter steps.....in ghost ports of ever morphing landscapes.......one day.....someday, maybe tomorrow..........the dream........I wonder what love feels like?

Red Light District

Poem by JD Glasscock

The song i've heard since child birth is a fast staccato, some slow blues transitional bridges until the beat again flies into a jazz uptempo improvisio.....always playing, never stopping, sleep ever elusive against the heavy pounding of it's drumming sound............my thoughts mercurial and impetus of forever kinetic perpetual sliding along weaves and webs......everyone around me, seemed translucent, going to something slower and more conventional.......it was a shake to my proverbial downstream.. My mind never slipped traffic....the worlds carving themselves in myriad shapes and sizes and propensity of ever evolving rewinds of replication........no slow mo tip into stagnant mud sucks.....a thunderstorm........lightning in a current of forever, till breath exited ever ever into the final dead pan stutter stop.....it's still there........in a backdrop of smoke hazed dive bars and back alleys and cigarettes lit against asphalt........still there.....still slapping skins in ever intrusive ways........noir shots in framed black and whites in a 50's buick running rough shod on rain caked rail ways................please, let the night's eternal loom find its platform........let the ever changing horizons find palpable transition into side shows and carnival clowns doing vaudeville in dime spun leafed pages spelling outlet, runing fables in etched canvas allowing release............I'm tired, one day of peace and a good night's sleep.......the doll on second ave shows thigh and winks in a red light afterhazed grin of infernal internal joke.....oh she had me in the shade in which I was made.......a purpose and torment all in a day's lobotomy.........the needle lifts from vynal......a shallow patch of dirt is the eve's slumber

Requiem

Poem by JD Glasscock

A circle in sandboxes, castles in crayon drawn storyboards.....we attire our eyes in make believe, in tumultous garbled reissues of vinyl playing lullabies.....hoping to hide......beasts upon the road...., fear lurking in gutters and streets, hungry, chewing limbs....... mayhem, upside down smiles.....we cash food stamps for edible cardboard, lick chops for bottles slugging whiskey in off key laments.......terror is carving tv episodicals.......our lips sewn in bone, to speak truth, a target in aniticipation of red and inevitable tombs.......only one candle left upon the promise, and the wind is howling....the light in the last door is guttering, final breaths upon the ruined stage....

Eternity's Sleep –

Poem by JD Glasscock

Pulling petals to make a wreath to the fae.....weaving starlight....drop skipping stones across ripples of water....my hand is archaic rune spilling forth wisdom in dark corners....trembling spirit in the aftermath of brilliance.....I am tomb.....a forlorn memory of a womb....a storyteller telling fables in the shade wrapped prelude of inevitability...I am sleep in the tilting of eyes half lidded....a lucid moment in the pull of eternity......wake me......my limbs are cement striven paint brushes lacking color.....a reap of humanity in the crumbling precipice of ideals....I am strand of filaments seeking purchase...I am...I am.......lost.....mud and a sinner's weeping.....swallowing me.