YESTERYEAR Poetry by JonathanRex

8/12/2019 YESTERYEAR Poetry by JonathanRex

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| R I B A L | | R I B A L |

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| Y E S E R Y E A R |

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Yesteryear

Whisper your dreams unspeakablein a oreign tongue that we two share.

Sigh or todays that will torment tomorrowsand make you long or a yesteryear.


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Te Carnival

Behind our masks,we mimes and clowns,

are caught in tasks,all smiles and rowns,

perorming in the carnival.


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Blue J

His painted wings stand tribute tothe bright blue brilliant morning sky;

high above all pettinesshe flies, in solitude.


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Origami Orangutan

Fold and tuck, tuck and old,paint it orange, red, and gold,make it as you wish it were,give it pink and purple ur.Its your time now to plan

your Origami Orangutan.


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Te Manifold

Write a poem,sing a song,play a game,

it wont be long,beore you findyoursel too old

to revel in

the maniold.


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Between Us

Shh, I just wanna be inside you.I want your silky smooth walls

around me as we uck,while I lick your nipples,

and flick them,gently with my tongue,

sucking them between my lips.I want to taste your sweet salty sweat,

see pleasure in your eyes,smell our sex in the air,and eel your heat rise

beneath my fingersas they clasp tightly to your hair.

I wanna hear your heart beataster in your thighs,

as my tongue penetrates you.I want your body,not your mind;

let your wandering thoughts cease.Be here with me now,

in this moment;your matter matters to me.

Romantic words are or raudswho cannot get what they want,

with honesty.I have no desire to seduce or consume,

possess or suppress you.I just want to be with you,in you, on you, under you,

and beside you.Let there be no lies between us.


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Out of Body, Out of Mine

I stare upon a tree trapezeand wish that I could fly,

soar above the cloudsup high

and look down rom the sky,with an eagles eye,

at the manwho stands

upon

the landbeneath me,staring up.


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When Clocks Melt

When clocks melttime will cease,wars will end,

well be in peace.While clocks tickand time goes on,

wars will wage,rom dusk till dawn.

Wars without,

wars within,wars in virtue,wars in sin.

All the wars weve ever eltwill cease to be when clocks melt.


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I, Mortal Me

Out o the void I came orth,a single solitary mind,

and to that void I shall return.Tis body o matter, evolving,

taking new orms,shall remain orever immortal in motion.

But, not I;

I am precious and rare,and mortal,and here,

now.


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Between Eternities

I have tasted tart tomorrows,clinging to the joy it borrows,in lost moments gone orever,

never more or today.

I play as the sun sets slowly,seeing evil in the holy,

knowing that our world wont change,

strange in stagnant motion.

Te ocean, steady, always beating,deep within us all is greeting,

our past and uture with a roar,leaving us on the shore.


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Forgotten & Unknown

Let us allow intuition reign and we may truly rule, see the wise man and the ool toil invain to count each grain upon this sandy shore. We stand here now between twin eterni-ties, trying to capture time and sacrifice it on the altar o mine, but wail and whine when

we discover that our most aged wine is nothing more than water. We deal daily in ourractions and ashion different ashions and call our creations culture. I see you and yousee me and we stand eternally torn in two, divided and derided by the delusions in ourheads. We have leaders and those who ollow and they are each others slaves and rom

their mothers wombs into their earthen tombs they play tug o war with metaphors andconjure up their passions which dissipate like waves. Te rust between our ears resurrects

our years and provides us with desires which expire when we die. But or now we lay inthis present lie, fighting, ucking and orever scorned, and in our ignorance with laughterand tears and desires and ears we continue clinging pathetically to one another eeling

that i we lose our grip we may just slip and orever be orgotten. Forgotten and unknown.


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Stalemate

At noon the darkness breaks,light bakes me in the balloon red sun.Ive won the games o gods and men,

but soon comes night again.

Why do I knock on this dooror the whore inside who knew Id come?

With gun in hand, I charge her den,to lie up on her bed within.

Checkers and chessI must coness

Unless this warring storm gives wayTe mixed up man that I am today

Will drif and shifpush and pull

orever stuck in stalemate


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Frozen in ear,like a creeping cat at nightstartled by a nearby noise,I stood there on that path,

five years old,witnessing murder or the first time.

I covered my ears, as she squealed;her high pitched pleas still haunt me.

Closing my eyes to the gruesome sightI began to cry and sat on the ground

beneath the barren, leafless, winter trees,as the snow ell lightly onto my head,

melting into my hair.

Several minutes passedand I opened my eyes

little by little,trying to see through my blurry tears.

Te boys were walking awaylaughing, and pointing at me.

Beside a rusty black barrel,

which I now recall seeing beore it all began,just outside the poorly built club house,was a can o gasoline.

As I looked to the top o the steel trash can,the orange, yellow and red flames danced

in the slight breezeas pure white flurries drifed

around me,everywhere.

I had to look inside.

With my ears uncovered,everything silent

aside rom the laughing in the distanceand the whistling in the trees

above my head,I approached the flames slowly,

looking down to see my riendburning,

burnt,charred up and dead.


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She was ree because o me.But I cant seem to ree mysel

rom the memory o her.


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Face Rape

Tere are many ways that people die,on their eet or in the sky,

but when I go all I askis that you laugh and say goodbye,

thinking o the times I made you smile,

against your will.


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Harlequin Hobo

Eyes may strain with slanted staresat any dreamer ool who dares

to reach or more than ever theirsto breach all dams they build in pairs

to fight and climb and stand right where

others came but didnt areand navigate those drunken stairswith a hobos defiant glare.


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Te Subconscious Sorcerer

My aim is not to be beautiul or cool; I will not write or the common ool. I will not chasethese industrial dreams, striving and thriving off o manuactured schemes. I will not

climb invisible mountains and scream to distant stars to let me join them and shine downupon you. I am not your celebrity. I am not your American idol. I am not your role model.I am not your demigod. I am your reflection in a darkened mirror, lit by candlelight anda deep inner ear. I am the voice you think in, the hatred you hide in the dank alleys and

sewers o your soul. I am the shadow you think you saw as a kid in your closet, lurkingbeyond the blackness, whispering to you to invite me out. I am the lion you keep cagedwithin you. Te minotaur in your minds labyrinth. I am the screams o the damned,

condemned, lost. I am what all o you spend your entire lives running rom and tryingto cover with makeup and costumes and class and education. I am what you have manu-actured demons and devils, goblins and ghouls to excuse. I am the reason you pray or

orgiveness. I am what you really want to be but dont have the courage to accept. An uglydeormed toothless drunken bum laughing at your civilized world. I am not your escape.

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YESTERYEAR Poetry by JonathanRex