We Dont Die YoungTurn the lights down low. Let me leave this place from the comfort of my own bed at seventy, quick. Sometimes I actually think I’ll be around to see the world die. That would be my luck, as it was my grandmother’s. The quality of life fades, but the heart and mind remain strong. I don’t wish to die, I just want to leave the station before the suffering begins, but we don’t die young.We Dont Die Young by Jaybird101
My blood line speaks for itself. The latest to prove that fact is my father, a hard noised, whiskey drinking wild man. He rode his Heritage to the end of life and back again. Now, his roar has become a groan, but he’s still kicking near eighty. Most his friends are gone now, but their memory still lingers and he has his family.
If this doesn’t sound so bad, that’s because it isn’t, at least not yet. When your existence becomes agony and pain from bones that don’t work, lungs that struggle to breathe, or bowels that won’t move I’d rather take
Age of RealizationToo many have fallen, trying to go my way. In the wake of such an epiphany, I soon realize I am the single greatest common denominator, the link of dissention. I am the train wreck, the bad decision, the bad direction. This is my shit show, so when we stumble and fall I manage to hold on while others slip into the fog.Age of Realization by Jaybird101
It’s sad to think those who have been lost, actually loved me. Why else would anyone follow me to oblivion? And so I must slow my roll, change my flow. Spend more time at home, clean and sober. This was my awaking, my age of realization, a time when truth became clear and screamed at me for change.
Now, I sleep better these days. I step lighter, freer, with more clarity and a clean conscience. I don’t wallow in misery or discontent or fret over things I can’t change. One doesn’t have to fix as much when one isn’t breaking as much.
I guess it doesn’t matter how I found my way to the place before. All that matters is that I found my way
Last Nights RunThere’s money in a stackLast Nights Run by Jaybird101
and a pistol on the floor.
A tattooed hand
dangling just above.
Whiskey bottles scattered
from last night’s run;
a dance with the devil
in the main event.
The ashtrays full
of cigarette butts.
Smoke still lingers
in the air.
The light bulb flickers
to its last breath.
with impending dread.
The dis-hearted sleep
while sirens wail,
up the street
and across the hill.
A crash through the door
and that’s the end.
It’s hard being poor
in Houston, Texas.
Does It Bother Your Mind The Way You Bother MineIt could be defined as this unintelligible sympathy, refinedDoes It Bother Your Mind The Way You Bother Mine by EmaciatedandEpitaphs
and infinitely describable. Words are a feeble comparison.
My speech is slop, fecal matter. Repulsive residues spew from ineffective
communication. And you're speaking, but what the fuck are you saying?
To be wrong.
It may run deeper than that, an invasive core crowding the marrow of your bones.
Humiliation in strength, pungent structure uniting beneath sinuous muscle and
skin. Imperative awareness skittered across paranoid psyche - psychosomatic ridicule glorifying nausea.
Illness; festering determination.
You are difficult in your footholds.
Exhume and InhaleI have tasted God, he tasted of sweet wineExhume and Inhale by sunshinegypsy
and sandalwood, the deep forest you lay down
in the moss and twigs, scattered like finger-bones,
your spine ripped out, curved like a bow.
I couldn't find your heart, trembling
against the opened cage of your ribs,
under the gently speaking rustle,
leaves unfurling, the dance of sunlight
slinking between your vertebrae:
piccolo skims and birchskin shaves.
I fled. Your right shoulder blade beckoned still,
unfolding like the slow feathers of a wing,
your wrist flung out, palm
up, gasped my name,
but I could not stay, only
strained your skin with oleander tea,
drifted, drifted with the tumbleweed,
the blind breath of the wind,
and I had tasted God, birdsong on my tongue,
soaring, sweeping, sweet and free.
A ValentineRemember when it came to beA Valentine by StormBringer23
Sitting in a truck, just you and me
Our choices then, to go or to stay
We committed ourselves on that sunny day
The wants and needs of just the one
We gave up then but not the fun
It's just that now instead of me
My choices would be based on we
Not that now permission was needed
Another's needs must just be heeded
Before I act I think of you
And how these actions influence two
Months had passed and turned to years
And looking at you, I saw your tears
You handed to me a teddy bear
Who held a box, with a note in there
I opened it slowly, and began to read
The message it held, news of a seed
That we had planted had taken hold
Another was joining us it told
Now choices made were based on three
Soon it was her and you and me
The years flew by, we grew together
We were now a family forever
More years went past, and then we saw
Some choices she made had broken the law
Our morals and values we'd handed down
Had not full circle come around
So even though there's more
I’m a middle aged white boy with a past, present, and god willing a future. I’ve lived hard and fast most my life and now it seems I’m slowing. I work for a living and play on the weekends. I enjoy Nascar, Bourbon, and BBQ and I love to grill. I also love to write and I love music. I’m no musician, but I am an enthusiast. My genres include punk rock, Rip Hop, and Reggae music and I don’t do much without them. I enjoy tattoos, back yard parties with friends, and just having a good time in general. I try not to cause problems for anyone and I hate drama. Basically I just want to take care of my responsibilities, my kids, and have a good time along the way. I guess you could say I’m a fairly simple guy.
As for writing, my interest began in late 2008-early 2009 because I never really cared much for shrinks or head doctors. Since then I like to think I’ve grown as a writer, but like most things we embark on I know I will forever be a student of literature. Now, I would love to categorize my writing style for you, throw out words like fixed form and free verse, but I gave that up almost immediately. Instead, I just call it life poetry and tag it as spoken-word leaving the rest up to you. I sincerely hope you enjoy what you find here.
Current Residence: Texas
I think for me, it’s the time away from work,
those holiday projects to keep busy,
the look on my sons face when the tree goes up
and when the presents come out.
It’s the annual New Year’s Eve party
and my son’s fourteenth birthday.
It’s the bonfires and BBQs
and not having to wake to an alarm.
It’s the one time a year
that doesn’t feel like chaos.
So if I don’t see you before 2015
have a Very Merry Christmas
and a Happy New Year.