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My new poetry blog will be hosted at wordpress. The link is www.johnblakewolf.wordpress.com

This blog will be used to post free-writes and less "official" poetry.

If you're interested in more regular updates of better poetry than on this blog, please visit the new page. Thanks!

The Actor On Acid . . .

The actor on acid raises his glass,
throws it to the back, watches it smash
and shatter with a laugh. Then he says:

I grasped a planet rolling backwards,
gripped the grasses, grabbed at ghosts
until I choked on smoke or air, my own throat
blowing the body up, afloat,
like flying higher kites attacked to whiter lights, widely-eyed.

I am: a sea breeding, the bud as it opens its mouth,
expanding in its first glance at breathing,
like me, blood and bacteria reside inside.
Animals live within, decidedly at night.
The flood active--livid, seeking
sun, oxygen, & future destruction.

Before I leave, for those who asked,
here's my last instructions:

Set your hair on fire.
Just before the flames take over your face,
wait glowing bright till Great End,
then prepare for the final induction.

Mentality (June 2010)

The friction in my system is the engine to my visions.
Black out or burst; it's just my brain's combustion.

Start off starving, finish as a glutton.
At whatever cost: avoid the original problem.

Stick your head underwater. Wait as long as possible,
and right before you suck water in through your nostrils,

see the bright light at the end of the pipe.

Then spread this newfound gospel.
Go to the schools, the prisons, the hospitals.
Spread your words with conviction and withhold little.

Inform the next generation:
1. Please don't settle just because your elders were so pitiful.
2. You won't feel perfect until you lose the physical.

Fictional Confessional: Unrequited Love

THE One . . .

Once again I was the one found wanting,
with the unkempt love of a gnarled, starving animal;

whereas before I'd held up women at gunpoint, hunting
whores as hors d'oeuvres, a hungry barking handful.

Now I see love from below, not above.
I used to kick at the settling of a romantic's dream.

How I've screamed for a peace far from love,
but now I'm tearing at my eye's seams,

because once I exposed my skull to great Beauty,
my mind's been quite full of nude ideas & subjection.

Since then, I've enlisted in love's army, as is my duty
to the being standing before me, hostage of my affection.

How now I'm the one down on grace & out of power,
waiting hours for a response from my responsible citizen,

who truly views me as some new side-thing. I lower
my position and question the volume of this romantic admittance.

Recent Free-Write

Currently Untitled

The other night my baby said,
"If one day you go crazy in the head,
taking my life,
it would've been worthwhile
to say I was once your wife."

Even if our love's shade grows faded,
& we, bitter, old, or jaded,
must know fits of bold justice,
as our love will balance beautiful as such:
superlative eternal, simply put: just too much.

We took the dive, deciding to risk dying nightly
in our dire dirty state of inputting soot to our veins,
a desirous drive on the cliffside ledge,
leaning off the edge of a razor.
We weakened emblazoned ragers

who waged wars against this world
while naked, fighting out the womb.
We who took to explosive bombs blooming
& our two hearts till entombed, went ticking in time.
I breathe in her lungs. She breathes back into mine.

September 16, Free-Write

I find a jaded path going home in a flask.
I've known side-roads that wind back.
I've gone pale white and black eye-sighted.
I invited lights inside my mind, flash bright
on an impulse of the tongue-flight.

Gnab the money, run for the gun.
Grab my glass of gin and get your ass back in
to safety. My pace's been racing away,
wasted for days. Watch my crimeful ways
cause the frame to slowly dim and fade.

My Last Sights Flash Bright

My last sights flash bright,
washed away, drowning down the drain,
flushed through veins, speaking in dreams.
Same dreams daily; some snap as it seems.

Water covered underneath a zipper.
A whole ocean with six clipper ships floating over it.
Toads jumping backwards, some fall flat on their backs.
A frog stuck in my esophagus. Take a shot
to watch it wash the words away, drowning down the drain

of yesterday's fading memoirs,
the same day repeating in a dream.
A ripple in your stomach quiver, building pressure
until your eyes start to shatter at their seams.

Love, look, I will never blink when you stare
because my eyes don't shut when I dream asleep.
I shutter at the thought to wake and think.