Truest Haiku
/In this Haiku, Jack reflects with profound depth on writing poetry and what it's truest nature is in reference to himself. A look into the world of writing.
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Drained
/A short poem about friends becoming distant as we age.
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Memories of the “used to know”
Left turn into alone
Stamping the clock draws a line
The steam whistle of separation
Same place to different faces
Different time the same reasons
Another wall to drill through
Ten now
Still not through the first
The tool’s battery died
More rains from heaven
A fortress of isolation
No energy for the cord
No power for effort
Drained trying to not get buried
Not get forgotten
Determined
/A simple rap by Jack taking jabs at the way the masses live.
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I’m a wit mess that leave no witness when I pen with quickness
My words are my vest
I invest in morphing into the best by tossing all of my stress into the canvas
Shots fired
The effort will go admired, but maybe it’s time you retire
Understand I am the man with the skill you wish you had
Hi, I’m Will
Here’s the way out
Follow it
We’ll all be proud you’ll no longer be around getting loud about all the stacks your raps catch
Yet, somehow tomorrow at work, you’ll be right back
9 - 5, your life is like that
I’m not, mines not, It won’t
I won’t be caught
I said the pen would put food on the table
I haven’t been hungry enough to eat my words yet
Although I’m able
This shopping list is long and I’m…
Mourning Freedom Chapter 5: Acceptance
/Acceptance is part of the patient process of winning. Something only those oppressed need to worry about. For the oppressor won’t live long.
Jack shares his thoughts in this poem.
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The pendulum swing at its height
A return is in sight
We might have lost the fight
But that was game one
We ain’t done
Second game is time, son
They’ll run out, zoom
Nothing they can do to change that tune
The end comes soon
This was ain’t through
And we’re learning their ways
Filling offices each day
That realization is the source of their rage
They’re scared they…
Mourning Freedom Chapter 4: Depression
/The depression of defeat settles on the country when solutions we don’t see for the problems it’s facing.
This poem explores the situation.
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It’s quiet
Quiet and we hate it
Feel long since defeated
Hope faded
Screaming just to be heard
To assure we’ve not yet drowned
To get the last word
But the ship is going down
Shit
It’s anger
Fury from knowing the race was rigged
Lost before it began
Built for someone else’s victory
It was planned
For us to fight each other
Distracted by the two puppets that...
Mourning Freedom Chapter 3: Bargaining
/Society isn't ready to deal with a strike from informed individuals. Outrage prevents the masses from learning useful tools and information.
Jack breaks down his thoughts on the matter in this analysis of the situation.
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The quiet majority wakes
They must, for the loud majority appears more and more like those they've titled evil.
One woman's words are enough to force a community to punish even those innocent and not involved. A group generalized and treated as less for the behavior of one. The familiarity of this is astonishing.
One man's actions forced all men to cower. Wondering whether that boring date makes them a sexual abuser. The proof lies in the…
Read MoreMourning Freedom Chapter 2: Anger
/Blind by outrage and unable to function united, the world seems to be at the height of disagreement and misguided anger. Meanwhile, terror is signed into action while we scream at one another.
Jack expresses his thoughts on the matter in this poem.
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Age outraged at youth
Youth outraged at age
Coexistence is nonexistent
Yet, persistence others are wrong stay static for the manic
Instistant this way is better
Fury when they won’t listen
Missing the point
We’re all suffering our own battle
While hissing at another’s struggle
Pissed saying it ain't real
It’s only real if we...
Mourning Freedom Chapter 1: Denial
/Poetic commentary on the current state of denial the average citizen of the United States displays.
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Hopeless
It’s all hopeless
It’s all hopeless
There’s no resistance when it’s hopeless
No fighting to revoke this nonsense we invoke
It’s toxic so we choke
Nod off asleep
Maybe it’ll be gone when we wake back up
It’s not because it’s stuck
Static, the door shut
Bad habits immobilize us
Never find the keys
Never rise up
Locked behind closed doors
The top floors discourse what to…
Recovery Chapter 6: Gluttony
/Our fantasies and desires can negatively impact those around us if our pursuit is too relentless.
Jack reflects of related experiences in this poem.--------------------------------------------------
Give in for he’s all consuming
Ideas, themes, perspectives, He feeds on them
A pursuit for enlightenment
Absorbing all the useful
Whether relevant or not
Ones and zeros must be extracted
No shield or sword
Hopeless to the lustful desire
Hungry for it all
Better self
Better mind
Better…
Recovery Chapter 5: Pride
/All our problems are indirectly our own faults.
This poem is a reflection of that.
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Larger than life
The presence that fills the room
Energetic charisma and intelligent display too
Raunchy, flirty, playful
One man party
Quake at the sight
Never a dull moment
Always right
“Here’s how”
And the crowd goes wild
For miles of denial
Stubborn
Never learns
Delusions of grandeur at every turn
Always right and deaf
Introverted at will
No new information
No progress
Stuck still in time claiming correctness
And claiming correctness
And claiming correctness
Should correct not just be apparent?
Static in the air
The static is in the air
Lightning strike the fool refusing submission
For Zeus cannot be wrong
Says the mortal man to the mirror
To an image opposite to the objective truth
Opposite to the view of others
Recovery Chapter 4: Wrath
/We all hurt one another without knowing it. We don’t even bother being aware of things.
A short poem about it.
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Chin held high
Critic to the straight line
Fitting villain when sane
Snaking the wit relay
Stickup with a freeze ray
Building hidden word traps
To catch those slipping
On how they’re living
Wake up lesson
How to be impressive
Hold the mirror up
Singing how emotions riddle us
Ridiculous
Unreasonable treason of peace
When feelings are the disease
Bully
Violent
He doesn’t mean or try
When the moment is right
He can stop and fight it
He’s tried it
Verbally intrusive with illusive conclusions
Abusive emotionally using “reason” as a reason to do what he sees fit
He’s rude as shit
Claims logic and includes no cold
Then wonders why everyone is coughing
With sore throats dodging him
Poor fool
He’s damaged
Anger driven living in denial sizzling with a fire
Saying saints don’t play kind they play right
Crumbled portraits of friendships held tight
Recovery Chapter 3: Greed
/In this poem, Jack reflects on the manipulation of the people in his life. How his greed and sense of ownership have left him.
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Knowledge and beauty feed the absolute
Collection provides the erection attention and truth
Manipulation of the state and ownership too
Surroundings fabricated as a way to masturbate
Ejaculate at the easy coast by the hard life
Slide by the fast lane
The rest stand by
Toys and pawns die at war
Won’t cry over broken eggs for omelets
Reason won’t be…
Recovery Chapter 2: Envy
/Short poem exploring the frustrations and struggles of being emotionally closed off and the envy it invokes when witnessing others being expressive with ease.
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Trying to spit out
Growth stinting feelings
The ceiling continues close
It’s filling up the boat
Half full is half empty when one’s lost all hope
Can’t expose what is lodged
Stuck in the throat
Poets and musicians open up with such precision
Appears they speak directly to the peak of embodied insecure mystique
Endlessly study the…
Recovery, Chapter 1: Lust
/A poem about obsession with learning and gaining perspective. How always chasing it has both educated and elevated, but left in its wake a lifestyle of constant change and little familiarity. Opportunities missed and wrong choices made. Always because of "The New Thing"
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Slave to curiosity
Vicious animosity to static
Turned on by havoc
The chaos of knowing is not knowing
And so is not knowing
In love with phases of brain waves
Gain perspective and change lanes
Dark incentives and odd ways
Uncomplacent with the path most walked
Want more thoughts talked
Verbal exchanges are sex word play games for the deranged kids
An addict to ideas settles on no ground
Fear to slow down drops the volume sound
Muffled inside the vehicle
Windows up
Touch no ground
Fool steers clear of all shots to veer near a way uphill
Driverless Country
/Short Poem on society’s current confused state.
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Lightning is bright at night when they're frightened. Heightened senses tense tightly, senseless. Defenses up when just about had enough. Brave cowards showered with towers of lies hidden behind flowers meant to deny the fact they want to cry. Be told “It’ll be fine,” but know that’s not true, that’s the true lie. Haunted they’re coasting, no one in control. When the ship tips and flips, capsizes, sinks, no one’ll know where it'll go.
Read MoreUnder the Bed
/Charlie, a young boy, faces his bedtime fears alone for the first time in this Flash Fiction narrative.
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It sounds like breathing, Charlie thinks. Scared, he pulls the blanket way over his head. Eyes wide open.
He notes that it’s quiet, too quiet. He’s is freaked out at the fact that he can’t hear the breathing anymore and thus can’t determine if the monster is still under the bed. The terror of what it could even be has him paralyzed.
Screaming for mom or dad is Charlie’s first impulse, but he’s more reasonable than that. If the monster is still in the room it might have not yet noticed Charlie which would change if he was too loud. He stays quiet and devises a plan B instead.
Reaching into memory, Charlie remembers any other time a monster found its way into his closet or under his bed dad destroys them by turning the light on. “That’s what I’ll have to do!” he hypes himself up searching for the courage to accept and accomplish the task at hand. Inactivity isn’t a long term solution.
“Turn the light on!” Charlie yells hopping right out of under the blanket and off the bed. The monsters roars giant and breaks from beneath the bed flipping it somewhere behind Charlie.
Charlie’s sprinting like an Olympic track athlete after gold. The monster hot on his tail closing in. They bob and weave around toys scattered across the floor. It suddenly clear why mom always said “pick your toys up!”
The monster begins to open its mouth when Charlie reaches the light switch. He flicks it on just as the monster reaches him and it vanishes from the universe.
Charlie turns to see an empty room. The universe corrected for the monsters actions and put the bed right back where it needed to be.
“I knew that would work!” Charlie assures himself. He felt like a big boy finally. Fighting the monsters without the help of dad.
Read MoreBroken Bees
/A thought on people and society.
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It is unclear what should be done
There is no map for the jaded
No heart for the abstract
Yet, want exists without an object
Being driven without an obvious purpose is common
Strange creatures
Moving towards nothing as individuals
Towards glory as a collective
Notebooks
/Jack reflects on his old relationship with notebooks versus his new one with the laptop.
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There’s a safe comfort which comes from writing in notebooks. The keyboard feels cold and uninspired. A lot of effort goes into coming up with fresh ideas. But here in the notebooks it’s liberated and easy. Even emotional displays come as second nature when hand written. The skills acquired for expression as a child were developed in notebooks from the start. it’s home.
Losing sight of the simpler things in life that matter the most happens to all. Forgetting that joy and satisfaction come from the things loved occurs often.
I’m guilty of forgetting where I come from. That writing is what ultimately matters. That there is no right or wrong way to do it so long as it gets done.
I have to remember, when I struggle, that the notebooks always welcome me.
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