Somewhere Beyond
The storm cast sky, there is a painted
sunset’s promise where once I did embrace you.
Where I exist beyond this bar's darkened smoke
cast tomb.
Where my memories soothe, instead of
constrict, any hope for a thought beyond yours.
Where I can fade with dignity as an animal for
which I have surely become.
I have to believe it exists, for its promise
of these painted sunset skies are all I have left.
Hope is always best left for the hopeless to
tend to an eternal flame of an uncertain tomorrow’s often overcast skies.
I'm Going Nowhere But Crazy
Drinking myself to oblivion staying up for
days.
The humorous side deflects as the truth just
sours the expectations of others.
I fear human contact so I keep company with
animals and invisible forces summoned just after midnight who are as over me as
you reading these very lines.
The loony bins a calling.
Good thing I'm slowly going deaf.
There's a fine line you can guess which side
I'm on in this equation.
Shotgun Salad Dressing
Art and chaos embraced as lovers, as the human
canvas is but secondary to the evening news thirst for sickened entertainment.
The preacher spews salvation as he counts his
money along with your sorrows.
The truth is but an inconvenience we bottled
it up to unleash it to a crimes scene's futures promise.
Keep your eyes down and tethered to your
devices.
If ignored the problem will never go away.
The savages acknowledge the meek pretend.
Stupidity can never be erased but the
persistence to remain in delusion can most certainly blow your mind.
Story at eleven, horror always makes for the
best headline.
John
Patrick Robbins is a southern gothic writer.
His
work has been published in Fixator Press, Spill The Words Press, Horror Sleaze
Trash, Disturb The Universe, Tge Dope Fiend Daily, Piker Press, The San Pedro
River Review, Punk Noir Magazine and here at Lothlorien Jounal Of Poetry.
His newest book is Midnight Masochism from Black Circle Publishing available on Amazon.
His work is always unfiltered.
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