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Best Poems Written by Jack Romero

Below are the all-time best Jack Romero poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Summer

golden spears
wither my poppies
summertime

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Zen and the Art of Cannibalism (Or, Serial Killer Senryu)

Unseen hungry ghost
Predator in human skin
Lurks among the herd

Some folks drool for lamb
Others beef, but I prefer
The *other* red meat

Arcing silver edge
Slices a dark horizon
Full moon or my knife?

God's hand carves the earth
Canyon river running red
Metaphor in flesh.

Blood on my good shirt:
I just had this damn thing cleaned!
People are so rude.

Sleek steel crimson-graced
Open window into you
Pericardium!

Fresh-plucked beating heart
Just like a ripe tomato
Crush it in my jaws

Warming up the grill:
Home-made chuck on seeded buns.
Long pork for dinner!

Gleaming white arches
Spin around the spinal cord
Horseshoe, played with bones.

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Primal Urge

consciousness untouched for quite some time
direct caress along the eardrum
rattle rumble howl
somewhere deep in the purple shade
twisting unformed down beneath the scanning lights
searching pinning
sensors gleaming, undulating
it creeps beyond, seeking
winding further, serpent of sound

carrying a basket of frozen grapes and discarded photographs
faded, bent corners
coming apart at the edges
electric cry reverberating
pierces the heart of silence
falling into discord before
everything resolves into
march of ten thousand declinations
inclined to debate
decline to state
what found the star beneath the broken gate?

sometimes the darkness rises above
twisting into a spiral configuration with the dawn
sickness grieves over the corner of conscious corruption
with a silver spear in its eye
bleeding tears of indignation
into the soil
from which sprout dandelions dripping pus

starlight crystallizes against the eye
against ever knowing, you shield your face
raising your arm to block out the light
but it falls against your wall nonetheless
battering, grasping, finally sliding away
you hear the last pitiful plop
as truth denied falls to the ground
and you wonder
whether you want McDonalds or pizza for dinner.

Sometimes, watching the moon rise
a sensation shivers through and threatens to overwhelm
a needful expectation borne of unknown roots
laughing moon dogs dance for their dinner
shivering the black air with their satiation
sympathetic hunger pulses somewhere in the center
and the listener cannot help but think of
venison, blood, and moonlight.

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Pawprints

Pawprints in the dust
Hunger shivering the air
The pack is on the move
Ghost light in their eyes
Hunger shivering the air
Beneath the verdant canopy
Ghost light in their eyes
The prarie wolves are hunting
Beneath the verdant canopy
The pack is on the move
The prarie wolves are hunting
Pawprints in the dust.

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Poppy Pollen

did you know 
in the fog, the secrets 
coil in each reaching tendril
floating in the ephemeral pause, caressing me
knowledge enveloped within
peaceful contemplation
quiet word-games of hidden wisdom
"Where did you leave your game?" The Great One chuckles
and we look out over Its domain
lying on the leaves of dream-poppies,
unaccountably immense and perfectly natural
rich heavy scent of elephantine flowers floating amongst ozone
misty rain patters gently over the leaves
awareness overcomes
spreading out
melting ice on the plateau

the grey one's wing enfolds me, whispering
lying here in this coiling embrace, I contemplate my blessings
consciousness suffused within a greater presence
transmuting the hungry hunting world
enwrapping me in spectral vanes, a sheltering parent-lover
murmuring secrets in my ear
its cup runneth over with
love
faith
rapture
power
but most especially
peace.
and as it enfolds me,
these things become mine also.

how can anything which brings peace
also bring pain?
how can anyone blame the pain of the material
upon the seed of spirit?
lungs swollen 
with the nobility of the maroon poppy
we lie beneath living wisdom
milking the honey of its fruits
to inhale the breath of paradise.

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Ghost Songs

Listening to ghost songs
standing in the twilight fog
grey mist spreading in the blood
enwrapped in silence
standing in the twilight fog
drawn by a wraithly refrain
enwrapped in silence
contemplating the other
drawn by a wraithly refrain
grey mist spreading in the blood
contemplating the other
listening to ghost songs.

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Disarticulation

pelting downhill
hear gasping hitching breath
smell fear
running, running
jump a pile of garbage bags
he stumbles
land on his back
grasp his shoulder
shred his jacket from his back
fall with a crash
rolling
back on my feet, throw myself on his back again
before he can rise
pressing down, forcing
my gloves creak
knife snug in my hand
draw it along the back of his head
shave the skin from his forehead
ten arcing lines
all the way down his spine
deep incisions on both sides
one between each pair of ribs
a great circle cut from the belly and removed
like a cookie-cutter
bury his head in his own organs
drown him in his own offal
disarticulate his knees
pull him
apart!

anyone else feel like
long pork chow mein?

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Self Bio

Jack
Primal, hungry, intense, aware
Son of Johnnie
Lover of Mitch, cannabis, and poppy
Who feels the wind, the land, the spirit
Who fears hollowness, weakness, and failure
Who would like to see justice, an awakening, and a renewal
Resident of the Ghost Fog
Lurhstaap

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Spin Cycle

Sometimes
the sea rolls in and
the rumble starts
in the back of your mind
and the only thing you can do is
run, run down the sand
plunge yourself into the depths,
allow the roiling waves to toss you about.

Sucked into the depths
unable to breathe
grinning against the tumult
of sand and salt, stinging foam,
you break surface, suck a breath
before another breaker rises overhead
swim out to meet it 
riding on your belly

lifted on the crest of the mountain 
looking out over the small world
you realise the wave could carry you 
forever up 
up and
up and
up

you do not ask for such
and it gives anyway,
dropping you feet-first
into the maelstrom below.

spin-cycle
twisted and churned
battered against the floor 
tossed briefly from your watery womb tomb
into the cold 
harsh unforgiving ocean air
you gasp and dive, digging into the ocean
as if a mole desperate to return home.

Fog coils around you as you float 
you feel close to melting your form into water 
becoming the sea,
or a fish,
and you wish you knew
the fish's trick 
(breathing underwater)
but you don't.

So you content yourself with being
tumbled and tossed,
rolled around in the palm of the Pacific
a soft fleshy worrystone
and you know for a fact
that this is life distilled
everything
comes down to this
everything whirls around you
and you are as far 
from the center of the universe as possible
because you are immersed 
in the roil and thunder of All.