The Lonely Girl

She sits alone; a breeze twists briskly by softly caressing her sullen face...

Inadvertently it chills the slick tears she tried to quickly wipe from their place…

It took every bit of strength to keep her lips from quivering and hold her head with grace…
She slyly blots her eye and looks around before sinking back into thought, fingers interlaced…

Salty prisoners caught running from the dreams played out on the backs of her tired eyelids...
Feeling trapped in a nightmare... shocking images of a shattered past littered with lonely silence...
Something’s just not right there, maybe she was cheated on or the victim of domestic violence…

Desperately wishing that just one of these assholes would show her some compassion or kindness...

But here she sits on a bench stomaching the thought of being alone to face the world herself...
Its a bitter taste that doesn't age well unlike the fine wines she keeps for relief on the shelf…

She’ll take a couple sips and feel the hate swell, jealousy perched on her shoulder like a devilish elf...

Whispering doubt til she really believes it with every cell, feeling like she can trust NO man for help...

The familiar thoughts creep through the back of her head like silent thieves...
As she weeps they swipe the hope right from the air she desperately gasps to breathe…

Every breath alone makes the pain, hurt, and emotions grasp at her heart and seethe...

Her body’s tired from the sobbing reluctantly causing her stomach and chest to heave...

“Am I destined to be alone forever?”
“Will I ever find a man that isn't trash, but treasure?”

Her girlfriends try to help but sometimes she doesn't like to let herself believe them…
Cause at the end of the night she sleeps alone while they're with their husband sleepin...

She convinces herself the man of her dreams must not love her or that he simply doesn’t exist...
But that couldn’t be further from the truth, he IS real… he just doesn't know where she is…

Note: This was inspired by the lonely girl I saw at the bus stop today.. You'll probably never read this but I hope it all works out for you!

Embracing Pain

Sometimes I wish I could talk about the pain an hurt that I hold inside..
I guess it’s just a matter of maintaining self worth and emboldened pride…
That, and I hate revealing the scars and wounds I take time to carefully hide…
 Because I’m pretty sure that’s not a look of empathy I’m seein there in your eye…

See, I’m usually the last man in the line lookin for a handout or pity…
And sometimes I’d rather stroll at night alone and get swallowed up by the city,
than go out thinking about how I’m feelin hollow an still tryin to act witty..
But it’s a good thing I got drive to get past it and I thank my father that he instilled it in me..

See I grew up a good kid on the wrong side of the tracks, just a half a block past hope..
Had a childish dream of bein a politician or a lawyer but here I am, still ass broke...
That life was stolen when the last bit of air was gasped from my fathers throat..
It wasn't his fault he passed away that night, I just never learned to cope..
Instead I went out an found another life, I stayed hustlin an lightin up dope..
Constantly lookin at my morals dying through a smokey sniper scope...
A shell casing of self loathing almost destroyed the work of my loving folks..

Still through it all my mom an sis never gave up on me though..
Matter of fact, they fought harder for me at times than I did, that's the love I know!
Real talk, my big sister probably saved the life of her little kid bro..
That day she dragged my ass to college, pointed me forward, and told me to go!

I didn’t change overnight though an I’m still walkin forward on that road..
Yea, I’ve stumbled to the point that all I got left now is bloody nubs for toes..
But one foot keeps falling diligently a step ahead of where the other goes..
An aching reminder in every stride that pain and I are forever juxtaposed…

Burned into my consciousness, it’s seared deep with a long list of heartbreaks and R I P’s...
Coupled with the dull ache of lonely nights, lost love, and shattered beliefs…
These thoughts clatter around in my head whether I’m awake or asleep..
But with twin sides to every dagger, it also keeps me sharp on my feet..
Cause I don’t think there’s a heaven with angels pluckin harp strings on a golden street..
It sounds too good to be true… when it ends, I think we just skid to a stop, a whole six feet deep…

To me, there ain’t nothin heavenly about a grave, no matter how elaborate the headstone…
I know from experience that cross displayed won’t ever give you a hug or a friendly welcome home..
Even so, I still persuade myself to open my heart an truly love my fam, now I never fear the unknown..
In order to cope I’m self taught, my lesson plan to shed words instead of tears, formed into a poem..

So I live with the pain inside and hurt that glows deep in my bones and I’m learnin to happily explore it..
Call me a masochist, but I figure if I gotta suffer a beautiful life on earth, I might as well be smiling for it..

Lines in the Mirror

There’s a new line in the mirror and it lies on an old, worn, and hollow face..

Another year disappears like a sunken ship swallowed up in a rogue wave..

No modern medicines can heal each wound time carves out with its thin blade..

Then with selfish futility we look at the depressions made in our skin with rage..

We use silly creams and injections in an attempt to hide the blessing of old age..

But in reality, the most scarred old life soldiers comprise the heart of our brigade..

They’ve loved and suffered to see mother nature give birth to the sun every single day..

The fabric of history written in flesh, their story told as old cells mingle and decay..

An earned human portrait of existence itself written in the universal language of DNA..

I’ve learned to accept my lines in the mirror as time molds my body like wet pliable clay..

I stared at the reflection that appeared and defined the fear as watching hours sliding away..

But once I acknowledged their importance the hours didn’t seem like a loss, but instead a gain..

Because every hour conquered and wrapped in chains makes the next lesson in line that much more pleasurable to attain!

Dreams

Like a leaf falling unknowingly towards a blade of grass…
I impacted at dawn with the sound of a faded smash…
Invaded by reality, my brain whipped up a list of tasks..
But I quickly yawned it off in favor of dreams from the past…

How nice is it to retire to a place of wonder and passion…
When your days are filled with pondering your squandered rations…
A place away from heartache in a land of exotic fashions…
Strange tales of horror mixed with erotic interactions..

What a world it is that our dreams create…
Even giving glimpses of a future face..
Or maybe a real story from a future place..
Of guts and glory from earth or space…

They open Pandora’s box of ideas and images..
But unlike life, the dream diminishes…
Like the feeling of love lost with sleepy grimaces..
And the attack on your foe that’s lost it’s viciousness..

The ability to be in one place then instantly in the next…
The thought of how you got there never leaves you perplexed…
It just is what it is like the characters in this text…
Images of prisoners that your subconscious collects…

Lined up next to each other, depicting events…
Comedies, dramas, love stories, and suspense…
The feeling of realism is just so intense…
The horror is horrifying and the fortunes are immense…

That’s why I love these stories my brain invents…
So now I’m off to catch tonight’s main events…


By John Thomas

A Dance with Rhythm

A dance with rhythm

Individually notes and sounds are just hums, clanks, bangs, tweets, and twangs but together they offer us so much more.. like the ingredients to a fine gourmet meal, once assembled they dance passionately upon the palate with reckless abandon.. mingling for a second in a intricate pattern then changing forms the next, with each shift progressively stirring the elegant movements of the soul.. notes hang like climbers on the highest cliffs, inspiring the heart to race, while the feet move slowly or in accordance with the tempo.. seemingly commanded by some unseen human instinct that fires muscles into rhythmic action, man and music share the same brief moment of precious time and space.. I can think of no better way to spend 3 minutes and 30 second than sinking headlong into the skirmish of sounds to join the dancing souls they inspire.. what marvelous creations can be made from uniquely combining such independently lonely reverberations! Together, strung compellingly along with the woeful cry of a human voice displaying their bare soul in tune, they exist solely for your listening pleasure.. a release for them from the chains of imagination, and a capture for you.. carnal rhythmic instinct again makes the head bob with the tempo as the brain soaks up the sounds like a thirsty sponge on a baron sea floor.. two souls, perhaps distant in time and space, sharing love, joy, pain, and sorrow against a hauntingly beautiful auditory backdrop.. whether it’s the echo of piano strings being hammered by a man on one side of the earth, or air being delicately gifted from a woman’s lungs to a flute on the other side, the captured echo still compels a soul somewhere stranded in the middle.. and I am that soul! since the days of baying by cavemen to the progressive indie electro funk hop movement the feelings of the willing recipients of sound remain the same.. elevated, motivated, frustrated, sedated, or simply just in tune, and nothing matters until the beat slides away softly into the past.. in days gone by it only survived in the memory, the whistle, the heart, and the soul of the listener but now we are lucky enough to be able to hit “rewind” and resurrect the very same soul stirring ballad that plucked our heartstrings with just the right timing and rhythm.. we can play it over and over and dance close with it until the stars fade away and return to shine again the next day.. there’s no worry about life boorishly cutting in and stealing the next dance, leaving you lonely in a quiet corner.. now the notes of each song are captured and enslaved.. ours forever.. or at least until our own final hymn is sung at a solemn funeral procession.. until then, selfishly I continue my eternal love affair and dance with rhythm.. an open soul and a humble partner is all I can offer it in return..

John Thomas

Falling in love for a second.

Falling in love for a second

The tingle passes quickly from your stomach to your throat..
Like silent cells singing every second seemingly shuddering to a note..
The breeze as she walked by me restarted the limp sails ferrying my boat..
Refreshed, her very existence left me with just enough clarity and hope..

I think I fell in love again, at least for just a second or so..

But days pass slowly followed each day by nights icy cloak..
Every lonely hour swallowed by the clocks mocking stroke..
I’ve never been a lucky man, but every now and then, I still try knocking on oak..
After bittersweet dreams of her slipping outta my hands again, wishing I hadn’t just awoke..

Cause in my slumber last night, I fell in love again, at least for just a second or so..

But every time it happens, it seems it’s gone as fast as it arose..
Back to the real world again, with the proverbial stone grinding on my nose..
All these feelings of love relegated to a cluttered mind full of prose..
Inspired by girls with stunning eyes, tattoos, glitter, and sexy clothes..

I catch her eye driving by, and think I fell in love again, at least for a second or so..

But then traffic passes by and I’m shaken from my trance and left with nowhere else to go..
Searching a baron wasteland for the glance that melts the guarded walls of my heart built with snow…
I’d hike through the heart of France looking for romance or diligently circumnavigate the globe..
But sometimes I get the feeling that I’ve walked right by her and was just too stunned to say hello..

Makes me think, who knows…

Maybe I did just fall in love again... even if it was for just a second or so…


by
John Thomas