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J D Roland (Poet Rebellious)™

Last Updated:
Aug 24, 2008

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August 28, 2008 - Thursday

Lost Parade
Category: Writing and Poetry

Lost Parade

I stand before a lost parade,
promises made, I can't betray,
if I have you, if you want me,
then together,
as outsiders,
we are accepted.

We can't afford pessimisms'
ideology to define our future,
understanding optimism's gift
is a realization that defeat
makes us stronger.

It is not what you hold on to,
it's what you hold that makes
you better,
more efficient,
acceptable,
universal.

Change can only be embraced by
accepting fear, accept the possibility
of accomplished dreams, the constant
responsibility, in life, is change.

It is not what you hold on to,
it's how making it better,
more efficient, acceptable, and
universal, transcends imperfection.

The only way to understand our
accomplishments is to embrace
our failures, life stands imperfect.

We live a diversified life,
it's not a failure, the responsibility
of every category is to change,
improve our comfort.

I often imagine how easy
falling in love can be, yet
only if it's less a contest
and more a team effort.

I would rather sit alone
than accept the very things
that have no future, the largest,
biggest, smartest ant is still
just an ant.

I am often distraught by
our need to be the best
in the room, then, alone I
realize, we are  just a
lost parade.

©2008/jdr

5:40 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

August 25, 2008 - Monday

Johnny Moonrake
Category: Writing and Poetry

Johnny Moonrake

Under a bridge of concrete and steel, he sits,
back against a blood soaked girder.

It needn't have come to this,
his thoughts in hydroplane,
skidding out of control,
holding his weeping inward.

Silence crushing his spirit like
an overburdened anvil, his stepfather
lay dead in a drunken heap at his feet.

Johnny Moonrake would soon understand
the meaning of fugitive, however,
his was not the cause for panic.

His fragile mother became lost
in a tragedy beyond her understanding,
more than he could take,
caustic and unrelenting.

Still shaking, he placed his stepfather's pistol
in his lifeless hand,
Johnny's responsibilities suddenly started taking shape.

Suddenly, Johnny felt the rage that brought him here,
focused, in control, every detail fell into place,
he turned and walked home.

©2008/jdr

5:32 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Fragments
Category: Writing and Poetry

Fragments

Wait, I saw something,
just as I was sipping from my mug,
it hardly flashed across the screen,
almost indiscriminate.

It was a starving child,
no, it was a baby,
poc- marked by abuse,
no, it was a man of indeterminate age,
homeless, I must be seeing things.

The delegate on the podium assured his constituents,
"We are the Party of Change" everyone cheered,
I could see the desperation they tried so hard to hide.

Wait, there it is again,
burned into my logic,
on a branding iron's tip.

A mother of three, never at home,
her two jobs prosper, her kids forget.

No, a man desperate never to be poor,
or stopping along the way to live life.

An Anchor announces an important bulletin,
everyone's favorite athlete arrived at the airport,
detained for possession, such a nice role model,
I turn away wondering about the silent heroes.

Flash, a new drug has been found to cure Aids,
the FDA estimates ten years,
after all,
the pharmaceutical company
has eight years left on their Grant.

Wait, there it is again,
a soldier talking to his son on Skype,
no, a farmer in flooded field of crops.

The lost ambitions of a dwindling society.

I turn off the broadcast,
trying to remember,
a world less complicated yet
not much different than today,
just pasted together fragments.

©2008/jdr

photograph by
http://ruvsk.deviantart.com/

3:43 AM - 6 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

August 23, 2008 - Saturday

When Two Hearts Bind
Category: Writing and Poetry

When Two Hearts Bind

Tomorrow holds each answer,
like shaking an apple tree,
only the ripened fall to earth,
yet they're the ones set free.

With each step chasing
the last one fading,
unsure of how many more,
a trace is left to follow,
footprints on life's floor.

Even a world of night and day,
where moments seem less kind,
banish the fear, the answer clear,
so easy when two hearts bind.

©2008/jdr

4:44 AM - 9 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

August 18, 2008 - Monday

A Rendering
Category: Writing and Poetry

A Rendering

    When Jonas opened his eyes the room was pitch black. His hands securely duct taped behind his back. Charlotte immediately struck her Zippo, dimly engaging the room, leaving Jonas to think he must have stirred when he woke.
     She sat in a stuffed, velvet chair in the far corner of the room. The room was cathouse red, adorned with the bare necessities. Jonas was sure he had never been there before. The last thing Jonas remembered was a high stakes hold'em game at the Tip-Top Club on 83rd. Smiley Jack had invited him in on the game. Jonas hadn't known the players, except for Smiley. Normally, in a room of strangers, Jonas would play pretty loose to the cuff, figuring if he broke close to even he'd call it a good evening of poker, possibly meet some players worth another night. But Jonas was hot, he could do no wrong. The cards were hitting and the pot was loaded every hand. He tried remembering what they looked like, trying to match the face with the name. Getty was a thin man, like there wasn't enough room for his face. His suit fell over his shoulders, which caused the sleeves to cover his hands. Jackie was the nervous type. You could read him like an open book. B Ray's sunglasses made him look like an alien praying mantis and he held his cards like he was ready to devour them.
     Charlotte was grinning at Jonas as if he were naked. Jonas glared at her. At least until she raised her Lensington .38. It looked more like a cigarette lighter than a weapon. Charlotte was at the game but Jonas didn't recognize her, until now. She had been at a game he played a couple of weeks ago. But she was dressed up, black tie gown, hair piled on her head. Now, she was silk, simple, and dangerous.
     She stood up, the lighter barely flickered. She took two steps forward, bent into him.
     "Where's my money?" She announced while waving the 38 in his face.
     "I've got it, it just ain't here" Jonas caught himself saying. He had no idea what she was talking about. The last he knew, everybody was picking up their cut off the table. That was it. He had no idea what she was talking about.
     She pulled back and loaded one in the chamber. Looking deep into his eyes, she squeezed a round, putting one in his forehead. Jonas fell back on the bed, a smile still on his face.

©2008/jdr

3:53 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

August 14, 2008 - Thursday

If the Moon Never Sleeps
Category: Writing and Poetry

If the Moon Never Sleeps

I know what you're thinking,
how can this be,
it rises and falls by
Sun's memory,

Surely it fades
in dawn's early light,
then slumbers all day
cause it's up all night.

Maybe it's lonesome,
when we turn out the light,
possibly yearning
for more than the night

Sometimes it's white,
in the heat of the day,
like distant migration,
a steady parade.
 
I've seen it myself,
it's ready to lose,
pulled and prodded,
a worn out muse

If I were the Moon
that orbits this place,
I think I'd get tired
of a lost Human Race.

©2006/jdr

4:11 AM - 14 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

August 11, 2008 - Monday

Moon’s Shadow
Category: Writing and Poetry

Moon's Shadow

Climb the top of Luna's scale,
peer moon's shadow,
where infinity's scope is thrust
upon inability's vengeance.

Secrets reveal awakening's touch,
far away from life's abandonment.

©2008/jdr

4:35 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

This Moment
Category: Writing and Poetry

This Moment

life's capsules neatly
tucked away in memory,
the essence of who we are,
who we will be, the
mysteries unanswered,

every moment's everyday,
of triumphs to disasters,
of coated virtues and
hidden deceit across
pinwheel's arbitrary target,

hardly compares to this moment,
right now, where time freezes,
this instant,  this moment,
life's single reality.

©2008jdr

12:30 AM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

July 30, 2008 - Wednesday

I Am
Category: Writing and Poetry

I Am

I am more than
distant's illusion,
an anomaly,
shadow's creation
tripping infinity.

I am a seed,
momentary,
reflected,
a crusted brand
in full spectrum.

I am how you see me,
content under your watch,
a chameleon,
inside the melding pot,
protecting you from me.

©2008/jdr

8:42 PM - 8 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

Today
Category: Writing and Poetry

Today

today,
I step beyond the boundaries
that limit my amazement,
I break the chains of despair
unfurling my idyllic accord.

today,
the myriad of choices,
won't make us fat,
old before our time,
cause incurable mortality.

today,
no one,
succumbs to hate,
becomes disillusioned,
feels inferior.

today,
a life is not abused,
a child's not abducted,
empty stomachs are full,
loved ones feel loved.

today,
weapons are silenced,
honesty enlightens,
humanity trumps greed,
lions care for lambs.

today, all Gods listen.

©2008/jdr

7:04 PM - 10 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

July 28, 2008 - Monday

The Trolley
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Trolley

up before dawn
so I'll be on time
walk three blocks
then waiting in line.

standing room only
when reaching my stop,
but I like it that way
since I don't talk a lot

43rd Ave,
where I work everyday,
it couldn't be
much farther away.

rocking and bouncing
sometimes it syncs in
to an mp3 file
I picked on a whim.

14 stops,
to test my resolve
the shorter my temper
the slower the mob.

if I could afford
to fill up my tank
I'd buy a new car
with a loan from the bank.

 ©2008/jdr

8:52 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

July 27, 2008 - Sunday

The Corner Market
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Corner Market

I remember that store on 5th and Elm,
the wooden screen door slammed
every time someone entered or left.

Mr. Jenkins behind the counter,
a baseball game distorting the single
speaker transistor radio,
a table fan sweeping the room
as if it made a bit of difference.

the real action was in an oversized pickle jar
sittin' on the counter
filled with strips of black liquorish,
where old man Jenkins could keep an eye on it.

Jenkin's daughter Trixy, sitting on a barstool
always in a dress too short for her and
proud of it, a permanent fixture at the
end of the counter.

the swivel comics stand revealed
the latest superhero's dilemma,
Wonder Bread wrapped in white plastic,
and the canned food isle where
the most popular were always missing,

going straight to the frozen chest that
held the heath bars and fudge cycles,
sometimes just to cool the face on a
hot, sultry summer day.

born again my ass,
I have a hard enough time
keeping track of all the hate and
misery going on around me.

we'll have plenty left over,
a pot to piss in and feeling guilty
about it.

I Do

I do, however I do,
I do, know one like you
I do, one just as true
like you, I do, I do

Does it matter more today,
than yesterday,  the streets
are crowded with empty shells,
trying to get to the end in
one piece, what a waste.

But......................

we are empty
because we can't trust ourselves,
we pay someone to put us in jail,
a lot of people to put us in jail.

lightning strike,
it's illegal to stand on the
corner at night unless you're white,
when will we learn.

trust is like staring down the barrels
of an over-under shotgun, but I
can't say I have ever met someone
that at some point didn't aggravate,
as I try to aggravate my friends.

then came truth,
praise,
understanding,
peace,
a plethora of pious emotions,
better than yourself,
when The Corner Market
was the town meeting place.

©2008/jdr

that felt good :)

3:30 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

July 26, 2008 - Saturday

Ambush
Category: Writing and Poetry

 

Ambush

      Daylight climbed from sunrise, a relief from the bitter cold. The insatiable boredom kept Weber drab and incomplete. Danny stood out like a carrot in a perpetual wind tunnel, his kinky orange hair and broad grin reaching behind him. Bingo was hunched in the corner, once again wishing his quarter gram had lasted a line longer. Still, he was the best hammer man, when he was on. As usual, Reager had one too many, working on two too many. What a shame, Reager was cold steel and steady when sober.
     Jane, who use to be called Mary Jane when two names were hip, no really, Jane's well connected and honest, at least Weber believed so. She was leaning against the far wall picking at the frayed threads of her denim jacket.
     Toby had breakfast going, masterfully tossing the contents of a frying pan like short order perfection. She shined in her heritage, her roots deeply seated in Creole folklore.
     The defining moment hit like escalating pandemonium. Danny moved so fast he made it through the 4th fray, then hit the ground (less half his head).
     Toby never turned around, in an instant she took two through the back, her dead weight sizzling on the stove.
     Two were gone before Weber yelled,
    "Everybody down"
     Weber fell back onto the floor checking for bullet holes, surprised he wasn't fatal.
      Jane grabbed her AK just before her knee cap shattered. Two more passed through her back before she could reach the trigger.
     Bingo got off two rounds as he took three in the chest. The sly grin he was so famous for, still painted on his face.
     Grabbing the sawed-off on his way, Weber hit the back door on all fours. He didn't see the garden hose he tripped over. The shotgun's trigger caught his finger by surprise and left little to be identified. One minute eighteen seconds had passed.
     Reager stood up, attempting to wipe the blood splatter from his face announcing,
    "I thought we were taken 'em alive"
     Eighteen mumble in the background.

©2008/jdr
Digital art;
Hell's Bedroom by ~ ghostings

http://ghostings.deviantart.com/art/Hell-s-Bedroom

6:48 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

July 20, 2008 - Sunday

Another Poet
Category: Writing and Poetry

You all inspire me!
thank you :)

Another Poet

lost upon
your subtle lyric,
deep within
your graceful trance.

indigo mood
you dare to capture,
leave me not
this tranquil heart.

with each passage
I surrender,
dancing princess
my recall.

once you praised
a life of wonder,
now I stand at
heart's regret.

will your past
become your path
or guide you to
fulfillment.

I am but an ivory
domino
and you
my fresh reward.


©2008/jdr

6:56 PM - 8 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

July 19, 2008 - Saturday

Belief
Category: Writing and Poetry

9:12 PM - 10 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment


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