Poetry For Guys Like Me

My name is Jordan. I write poetry. All work is original and from the heart. Like it on Facebook. New poetry whenever I can. Inspiration is a damned, fickle lover. @KingPoppins https://www.facebook.com/PoetryForGuysLikeMe

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My first time published, but definitely not the last. Make sure to follow me on my new poetry page here on Tumblr: Rusted Crown Poetry

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My name is Jordan Lott. This is what I write. Find me on Twitter, @rustedcrownptry, Facebook, and...

Poetry For Guys Like Me has been a blast, but it’s time for some fresh paint and a hard reset. Expect more of the poetry that caused you to follow me in the first place, with a brand perspective on life and personal growth. Follow Rusted Crown Poetry and continue the journey with me.

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"Been carrying my styrofoam cross daily."

-Jordan Lott-

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Yosemite: Possession is Nine-Tenths of the Law

I feel so alone Except for that thing indwelling me It is a foreign body That's keeping my body from being free It's been here forever But I let it take over me today It filled me up with an icy, resin clay

Shapeless and taught The demon controls my every move More alone than before Despite the hellion's promises to sooth. My crippling loneliness Is not at all better from this beast But I'm terrified to lose My only companion before the feast

Will it let me go? It's been more aggressive every week Making me curse and scrape As it buries me, killing my will to seek Someone physical That's qualified to purge my inmost being The normal faithful would fail My demon is Satan's Colonial King.

Oh God, there are more He brought a legion through my gate How'd this happen? Love is losing to all this hate Jesus Christ, I'm alone The demons locked me up in this cell Savior God, I need you On your earth, I've given my life to hell

My last resort I fire a flare, angels please see this sign God please Jesus please come in the night I saw them building Erecting dark red gallows and I believe Tomorrow will be the day They take my body, forcing my soul to leave

But I want to live I want to be filled up by the Holy Ghost I need relief A life filled up by Heavenly Hosts Send someone Send anyone in your stead now, please The flare is dying As I succumb to my soul's disease

Still, you are silent I resign to this end I've invited I've given up...

What's that!?....wait! Is that Light that I have sighted?

© 2014 Jordan Lott

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"If found is folly, get lost."

-Jordan Lott-

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"Heart softeners help my movements flow."

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"She hid her pain for me."

-Jordan Lott-

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Dhampir

I have so much to say My jaw breaks on the words Flexing my muscles in the shade Taking a stance that’s absurd But it makes perfect sense When you superimpose the facts The consequence is too intense Stripping the skin off of the backs Of everyone who doubted me I count myself within that group But long ago I set me free To rejoin the verbose group So with my teeth wired shut My body trembling from fatigue I struggle with tires in a rut Til at last it does secede From its Union with the mud I sling the axle overhead Reigniting fire in my blood Just in time to raise the dead And move them out from underneath The car that I tossed in the air My mind begins to seethe

I recall their lack of care For the life that they once had But threw away for darker things Their motivations ironclad Refuse to wait from in the wings With clean hands and a pure heart I tear apart those undead beasts That I resurrected like an art And on-lookers consume like a feast

I am a spectacle for them But they won’t comprehend the call I overcome all that is grim Indwelled, my spirit full of gall I take on every single strength And cast aside what makes them weak I’ll take this fight to any length And cry out in a banshee shriek "I am more than simple man Everything I feel is free Of thoughts that violate my plan To feel the sun under my feet I am the light that pierces doors And brings the walls crumbling down The dead seek after something more But I bury my rusted crown Because I was never meant to speak These wires were meant to silence me My words spew forth like from a leak To rid my life of blasphemy I force the pillars to the ground The roof caves in on Philistines I’m finally released from this shroud Of rage, its blinding all I see.” Selah. Pause and calmly think of that Relax, for the time has come To reveal all that you beget Don’t worry if you’re feeling numb Stay focused on your breathing Its really all that you can do I poisoned the water you’re drinking Its Holy, meant to undo you

© 2014 Jordan Lott

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Throwback Thursday: Heavy Peace

Heavy Peace

I see the power in the lighting I feel the force of the thunder Your voice explodes from the sky That I am sleeping under

Raucous air Floating free Frenzied hearts Meet Serenity

Stars keep burning Heavy Slumber Arms around me Eyes of wonder

Seas awaken Heavy waves crash Peaceful in you Love can surpass

Though deafeningly the bombs fall Your whisper finds us all

© 2011 Jordan Lott

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poetryforguyslikeme:

Paris Syndrome

Love sick, brain rot, Dirty verb that I have caught. Bear steam, have not. Seeping names I’ve meant to clot.

Turning ornery. The simple claim you were to be. Too late for me. I’ll be damned from bended knee

I’ll go, you stay. I’m trained to keep the ghosts at bay. Vict’ry! This day, Put every single rock to shame.

Long live my heart, Once convinced again to start. Perfect the art, Of how to say, “How great Though art.”

Love sick, brain rot. Dirty verb that I have caught. You be my lot, And reclaim your sacred spot.

© 2011 Jordan Lott

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It's Not a Metaphor

There are no metaphors here I'm speaking in truth I will swallow my fear And give my all to you I would travel the world For just one glimpse Of your lips curled up You put my heart in a limp For love is my cross to bear And I've taken up love for you Every ounce of its weight is my fair To pay back what's accrued

My payment is but a fraction of my gift For my heart, mind, and soul you eternally lift

© 2014 Jordan Lott

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The Pismire Pissant

My eyes are killing me quite literally I see you laughing and having so much fun At least it looks like it from my island's shore I can judge from here quite comfortably That nothing is new under the sun I have waxed my case on top of laminate floors I once put the Devil behind me, but now He's right on my tail I feel his breathe on my neck and his claws at my heel

I have plastic insides filled with too much rage To simply turn away from my pent-up past I despise what you've done and vehemently demand For the restitution plotted out on my page It'll help me feel better, help my soul to last Hating and healing can go hand in hand The tunnel is so dark that I can't see the end Please turn on the lights if you call me a friend

© 2014 Jordan Lott

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Dawn of Redeeming

That outstretched hand was here again It's almost daily, I suppose That the hand saves me from the pit I'm in With quicksand up to my nose Inevitably I'm always there Blame finds its way to me And doubts come howling out from in their Hiding places to see If they can manifest the end Between me and my daily bread These doubts seek only to upend My trust of that Hand instead Of reaching up to greater hope But my rescue has come at last And will again. My only hope Is the Saved be saved steadfast

© 2014 Jordan Lott

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Re-Dreaming my Deathbed

Eyes open, realize I've either been sleeping Or comatose, I'm not quite sure The doctor says, over machines blinking, "We're hopeful his will to survive endures." My mother's outside the door weeping My wife holds my hand, her face a mix Of fear, anger, and joy; all three have been fighting For equal time center stage; emotional bricks.

My sisters pace in the hall calling Every contact they have down rabbit trails I try to remember how I came to be nursing This split open chest. I white knuckle the rails Of my hospital bed as the meters start chirping The doctors rush in to pandemonium Dad shakes from stress, my brother is yelling "What's wrong!? Death'd stopped holding him!!"

In that second, flashback to hours I've been wasting On the riff-raff of life made up of my sins Barriers that for years I was building, abandoned for others. No drive left to win. I wretch on the sheets, my only covering To hide the tragedy I call my dreams I collapse into reasons to restart the reaping I'll plant new life and stop feeding on weeds

I lose track of time, eyes rapidly fluttering Back and forth until the sockets erupt Body crushed by the tension that's breaking Walls in my mind as I give up And give in to the thought of life slipping Away from the garbage that brought me here I relax, eyes dilate, prayers silently lifting From now on I'll make the most of every God-given year

© 2014 Jordan Lott

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Stretch Marks

I'm unique, I'm different I am something else Someday you'll read my words Off of the B&N shelf Oh shit! That rhymed It's so not post modern How else can I prove My legitimacy's hard earned? Ok, just stay focused And overcome the meter Or else be doomed to fail As a dimwit repeater.

The                Bread              Is                 emeraldgreen                                        from viscous growths transplanted                                        from Haught            Cold               Air

Alright, much better Blank verse is the key I'll use it to unlock My creativity But that was too short Good poems are much longer And more words on each line Will definitely be stronger

My bread is moldy. At first I thought it was The cheese. Unjustifiable. But it's undoubtedly the FLACK seed bread full of battles That has sacrificed my nominal palate. My tongue and throat feed My cavernous trench of a stomach. Sickly and Sallow, this daily bread Exterminates all of the flavor. My heart is moldy too.

That was the ticket!! Now call me "Legit"!! So what time tomorrow Would the rest of you like to quit?

© 2013 Jordan Lott

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In Memory

In loving memory of my amazing Grandparents, Janet and Wesley Copeland, that my family was able to both memorialize together over the weekend. They met during their service with the Navy in WWII and loved each other, their kids, and grandkids every second they had. He was a poor farmer from Texas and she grew up playing in the furs at Bergdorf Goodman. It's these kind of stories that inspire art, but they just knew they wanted to be together forever. They will be missed dearly, but their legacy lives on in their family. This poem was written for and read at their shared memorial service.

We all can feel it, their love in the air Everyone of us shares in the memories we keep So many lessons and stories of them to compare Leads us to fully realize that their legacy runs deep Experience tells us there's so much about them You had to observe to understand how great And beautiful they were right through to the end. I mean, Just think about their romance, their meeting with fate Anchors aweigh, they met through the cables Not knowing how far the waves would progress Elaborate furs apparently have no place in a stable, but That never would stop the love they possessed Oh how she could encourage so much with a smile And then lift you up to the moon with her words It surely was part of why he, despite the miles, Loved her from afar until they could cross words He swore to protect and provide all that he could Forever and always and that never stopped They brought home to us a love fully good With a hug, kiss, and smile from Nanny and Bop-Bop Commitment to each other transferred to their children Only to influence far beyond just their kids Perhaps that's how their wave rolls eternally Embrace every chance to remember all they did Let their memories mean more that recalling the facts And make them about always spreading their love New actions are ours to keep their lives all intact, and Don't ever doubt they look down proudly, together from above

© 2013 Jordan Lott

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The Justification of Stanley Harper

I have lied with every thought And become that familiar sot Imbibing on every chance To cast aside all things romance I have no reason but my own for grinding you down to the bone It may be wrong, but so much is That overshadows the things I hid So drink it up, cause now it ends Your sad attempt at being friends

© 2013 Jordan Lott