#stephejo

[stephejo]

"In the City of Angels I walked through the valley of my shadow days, filled with fallen hearts and souls that shattered on impact. I look into the eyes of my generation and see the genocide of compassion. They are still looking for redemption out of these ambiguous times- using lust, money, alcohol, and drugs to reach it. In every person is good & evil, there lies our salvation. Find the beauty in the darkness."

[stephejo]

Capulet (Rough Draft)

Oh happy dagger

pierce my vein

grant me solace 

from this pain. 

For I'd rather 

be in the delirium

of your arms

as Death's embrace

than live-

or rather not live 

with the ring

being torn from my finger. 

The nightingale

sings the song 

of our loss

so let this 

drug take me away 

from every day 

I must hear it sing.

Because a rose, 

a rose is nothing 

without it's sun

that has already set 

into the eternal west. 

So let me too 

set my compass to the west 

and travel towards it with haste 

and let our hearts sin again. 

[stephejo]

You're gravity holding me to the ground-

I wanted to fly so far away

& I needed the atmosphere to burn

so I wouldn't have to breathe.

Acceptance was key and you brought it to me,

allowed me to love myself

and move to the sounds I hear in my dreams.

[stephejo]

Untitled

The street lamp 

cast 

gold flecks onto 

the wind-shield.

Just focus on

the gold flecks, 

Focus.

[stephejo]

Excerpt from "Beyond the Fringe: Follow the Yellow Brick Road"

Dazed and Confused 2005-2009

High school was the time Patrick and I started to wander away from each other. I guess he needed to find a new home since getting older made it harder to tune out the frustration of the arguing. His platinum blonde locks turned to gold and grew longer each year we passed through the grey-specked tile floor and bulletin boards strategically filled with homecoming pictures that gleamed a façade of happiness. Looking back now his insecurities (of eating disorders, getting stoned, and insomnia) became the ones I’d molt into years after he shed them.  I don’t remember how old Patrick was when I noticed the cracks in his foundation but eventually it sent me into a tornado of doubt and panic. 

[stephejo]

Poem 3

Hans Yergeau (December 21, 1951- August 18, 2012)

 Upon cutting open

the box my eyes are

captivated by the

bone shell fragments

in grey sand

settled along

the River Acheron.

The plastic bag,

sealed with

twist-tie is the

only farewell.  

Carcinoma’s

by product waits

to be poured over

the Appalachians.

I never knew

his face. I know

what his ashes look like. 

[stephejo]

Poem 8

 The Giant Eyeball

 Detached from its moon pull,

Earth washes up on shore.

The midnight blue orb of oceans

is nestled in a crib of fog.

After a millennia of rolling

through trenches of sand,

blue sky somehow

remains intact after tearing

from the atmosphere’s body.

Melted down into a silver skin

mirroring the Milky Way

are the buildings that made the planet great.

It looks so big in the cupping hands

but it is really small compared

to the life it once contained.

[bloodygraham]

stephejo answered your question: Considering watching Hemlock Grove. Anyone...

It is a bit off the wall but something about makes me keep watching. Plus they have awesome music.

mhm i'll give it a try :) thanks