the poetry knook, the poetry of stephen m. james

Poems with the tag ‘pain’

I was mistaken (or that pain was post-orgasmic marriage glue)

Oh, to be a rational Epicurist! A sun spotless mind-cleaner (than)
a Pope for one more franchise will burn my body by a Steak, ‘n
Shake a SRI index fund’s pointy finger, at my 401-Kilo-calories
it reads on the fast food prospectus–just ’cause a prophet didn’t write it
doesn’t mean it’s untrue, Mo’ and mo’ years, the more I choose
beside my Jesus burger, I need more media, more YouTube
feeding tube is not enough!–need mail on phone, music on TV,
hybrid corn, a fructose I.V., a fourth meal of midnight tacos
drive-thru lines of closed eyes show ads on clothes and signs,
other’s behinds walking right to left, left to right–usness: the risk
worth taking this half field of nerves and flipping coins to kick
or be kicked on the other cheek bones protected by dead bolts,
car doors, live wires, meds, and noise canceling headphones ring
interrupting disrupting sighs: our stones, diarrhea, and UTI’s.

You’ve stopped up my pen

my well, my pad, you’ve stopped up my pen, for I scribe on you every night,
pinning my anger to the ground, you hold fast

my million pieces, my puzzle, curiosity arousing me over and over
the horizon of this sparrow’s eye,

my perfect, my storm, I am wall-eyed and hooked wallowing
in the night so young an infant, the day still suckles with

my revelation, my special–burned into, an image, cloth
buried in a broken body

my mouthwash, my goodnight, I may never brush my teeth,
and gum your neck at thirty,

my lion, my lamb, doodles on the page became your name,
the softest thorns of the vineyard snag my skin,

my friend, my lover, your experiences, story, and knowledge
poured over an altar for me.
and all you get is I
will love you more than knowledge,
more permanently, more pertinently than life,
for life, for you.

Another helping of rain

Can’t help hoping for another helping of rain
narrated by thunder and barn’s bang
as hues transform twilight and night slowly covering
a saturated sun setting behind dark clouds hovering,
swinging the spectrum on a pendulum that humidies hang
tragically, intimately close to my heart’s pain.

© 1993-2024 by Stephen M. James.