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Best Poems Written by John Weber

Below are the all-time best John Weber poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | John Weber Poem

Inherent Swimming

Stepping past the crater towards your door,
     I am reminded of warm days
surrendered in flowery abandon while
     brushing against cool veins of
leafy promise, requiring only the slightest
     compassion for the flow of life.

The scope of our crusade sings bitter,
     like absinthe in a Fanta bottle;
tangs of anise and wormwood persist
     within ether's truthful vision
resisting factory flavors in a curtain,
     velvet reminders of flesh.

Lap your moistened shape. You dissolve,
     my expectant sugar cube, no longer
made jagged by expectation or campaign
     but fragile again, doughy in
blissful rapture upon my snacking,
     curling up in a fetal calm

until we flow once more with the surge
     propelling us entangled yet
unencumbered, finally breathing our
     amniotic potential within this
spiritual umbilical making my stomach
     spin within these tugs of finality,

despite my carpenter's heart yearning to
     mend or create. Do arrogance and
industry compel mankind's devastation? Such
     a question drifts unanswered as I
kiss your wrist before strapping on my boots
     to hurl my blood into the fray.

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Cacophony

Pinning chests like puffins to project
      fuzzy assertion,
      huddled, brave foragers
chase the crumbs along the
      stained ground,

flapping feathers of civility during
      auspicious climbs and
      daft plummets, swooping in
massive waves of perplexed flesh
      until frenzied,

shifting and undulating in rage like a
      storm of hungry nerves
      all darting with beaks coiled
in panicked alarm: no longer just a
      severe warning.

Details | John Weber Poem

Recyclable (Click, Double-Click, Ctrl-C)

The lunchroom fart
of turbo pasta
scatters garlic teargas
laced with meaty mystery
without mercy to
flatten cubicles.

Chain-reactions
of Tupperware battles
erupt to devastate
once discerning pallets
until hobbled by stabs
of shrapnel to the gut,

prompting an exodus
of mournful bodies
propelled along that cloud
of processed misery
to wander, ashen-faced
along the concrete void.

Details | John Weber Poem

Josie's Last Call

You frolic with playful abandon
Oblivious to obligation
Such wobbly legs prove hard to stand on
Chameleon charmed by temptation

I don't know why your halo's all bent
Your soul's complaint argues so brassy
Can't pay rent when your money gets spent
Once vibrant jewels bloodshot and glassy

Butterfly flapping with tart contempt
Degenerate goals rot away hope
Your daughter grieves with each failed attempt
She cries each time you roll down that slope

Cheap glutton for wanton attention
That hot spotlight withers your pert face
The clock chimes with mortal dissension
Until there's nothing left to erase

Snuffing your fire while quenching your thirst
You disconnect from honest matters
The mirror displays why you've been cursed
Indolence shreds your core to tatters

Details | John Weber Poem

Autumn Cannibalism (1936)

Heads propped aloft by the crutch of dogmatic belief,
savoring each other, feasting upon flesh--
     knife and fork,
     delicate spoon.

Each course far from complete, they gorge through
eroded faces, evidence of features strewn to rot in the
     panic of the fading sun.

Hugging like chums until folded into one writhing
mass, they remain dexterous enough to balance an apple:
     proof of perilous symmetry.

In the distance, the white mission weeps under the
weight of the impending torrent.
     Even the mercy of the mountains
     can't protect from the ruin of man.

Inspired by Salvador Dali (1904-1989)
http://dali.urvas.lt/forviewing/pic09.jpg

Details | John Weber Poem

Consuming Me

She drives that wobbly car
Stacked to the roof with goods
Squalor taunts her thus far
As she hides under hoods

Her babe cries behind bags
Baubles of plastic sneer
Purpose chokes on ball gags
When spending serves to steer

Tears well in her bright eye
While she struggles with rent
How will her child get by
On cash already spent?

She bats those long lashes
As she stands at my door
Wounded bird with gashes
Maybe she’ll need to whore

I long to comfort her
To regulate her pain
Emotions tend to blur
When yanked by Cupid’s chain

So foolhardy with joys
At discovery’s gate
I shed some unused toys
To help her mournful state

I’ve learned to live on crumbs
With circumstance’s ebb
All billionaires and bums
Depart this fateful web

Conjured visions of us
Tease my eroding mind
Intentions won’t cause fuss
When paid forward in kind

Yet her concept of friend
Surely differs from mine
Manipulations end
Alliance once divine

Wounds either kill or cure
What I am meant to be
Yet one truth shines for sure
Love keeps consuming me

Details | John Weber Poem

Selbstverbannung

Whispering caresses testify
   under duress with somber
   adoration.

How many sonnets have I
   forgotten
   while tracing the
   contours of your shape?

Your slick fragrance disarms my
   resolve; I yearn to
   bottle such essence

if only to keep a suggestion of
   us in the face of certain
   obliteration.

For once the skitter and
   the titter consume with
   fangs of speculation, we
   shall doubt

what we’ve begun
   in earnest
   under the moon,

the trust of synchronized
   pulses seeking
   harmony,

and the explosive
   thrill of shared
   desire

until nothing
   remains.

Details | John Weber Poem

Centripetal

The crimson moon bawls on his flight
Doleful to be condemned to night

His samba partner teems with life
Yet he hangs listless filled with strife

Whilst craters pock his dusty face
Her smooth profile glows soft with grace

Waves splash coyly along her skin
As parching drought afflicts the twin

Halo membranes caress her soul
While he claims little to extol

He’s locked away from that embrace
Like a buckle upon her waist

Sequestered on his lofty perch
He ponders how to end his lurch

He tries to shake his mantle free
So he can float with meek debris

Just as he starts to drift away
He hears whispers begin to play

Prayers hailing romance twist his ear
Until he melts away from fear

Maybe those folks below can see
Just how lonely the moon can be

Words purify to help him heal
His love for her shall make him real

Details | John Weber Poem

Plumes In Rooms

Counting hours like chickens
     waiting to get fried
until my last pressures get
     properly denied
by that amnestic ruckus
     compelling my stride.

My revelry extracts your
     most suspicious eye
while I collect brains like I'm
     Professor Magpie
instructing the planet on
     how it ought to fly.

You wafted off on that cloud
     propelling my pride
until I cried at that thick
     storm brewing outside
lamenting that lonely gust
     when our essence died.

Details | John Weber Poem

Mia's Light

Dancing off the trees
shifting with the wind
shimmering light
caressing the
shore:
my midnight lake.