J.

J. Everett Wilson. I like to write poems, mostly lyric.

[onetripthepoet]

Well Versed

Lost in the verse without meaning,

Each quatrain a question I ask.

Penning a strange sort of keening,

Burning each paper to ash.

Undoing the words that I’ve written,

Returning to what I once was,

Afraid to admit that I’ve given

So much of myself to this cause.

Made without meaning, this world,

The voice that says nothing at all.

Lost in each pause between words,

And each word in its emptiness falls.

Still the pen carries on and moves forth-

Each word and each verse finds its worth.

[onetripthepoet]

Lover

I twisted your heart like cherry stems,

Never learned to say your name,

And when you fell apart like paper hearts-

I fell like the rain.

[onetripthepoet]

Sweetheart

And when I figured out

You weren’t a part of me

I broke,

And when you said

You were never far away

I stole

Every space between us

For the hole inside my chest,

I filled

The miles with cotton candy

Eat my heart out, babe.

[onetripthepoet]

Dreams

Desyrel, the sandman’s tool,

My sleep his masterpiece.

Though I am grateful for his patronage,

I wish he wouldn’t bring me these

Cotton candy clouds,

Thick and sickly sweet,

They surround me every morning-

Make me dream upon my feet.

Sometimes I can’t tell the difference

Between waking and asleep.

The only true distinction?

When I’m asleep I am at ease.

I walk through life, a nightmare-

This world gives me no peace.

The craving never ends for what

The shuttered eye can see.