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Best Poems Written by Jonathan Michael Conlon

Below are the all-time best Jonathan Michael Conlon poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Family Dinner

Hey babe, how ya doin, how ya been? It's me, c'mon invite me in!
Say, nice place, where's the kitchen, what drawer are the knives in?!
Nice couch, does it fold out? Nice dog, what's his name? Does he fetch?
Play dead?
Burnt one, ate one, used the other as a table to operate on while the meat dripped from her ribs.
KNOCK KNOCK
Hey babe, it's your parents, let's invite them in!
Look boy! She pissed the carpet! 
Good evening sir, Who am I? Why I'm Mike, your daughters inside, knees pulled to her chin!
Can I offer you a plate? It's hospitality with a side of your child's jelly-
Afterwards we'll have the desert thats long been cooking inside your wife's belly.

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You

Whoever you are..I love you.
Good luck. Nothing more.

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Space

Space
Lizards slit eye me like they need re-evolve.
I may never remeber such cold vast anger the way 
Lizards do. 
Slit my eyes, leave me their puss filled bowls, it's all relative to your choice.
Space grants me all that in I am alone.
Temporarily we collect to wait, love, peace and space remain undetected while lizards float in that stone
eyes like me need soon evolve.
Space grants me all in that I am temporary.

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Lame Intent of Haiku Presents

Look forward, storm.
Great of location, desolate.
Look toward, shelter.

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I Insist

A place to sit, to insist the other exist.
Instinct ink; a brief connection to persist the other exist.
A place to relieve myself from this brief connection.
Instinct ink; a recollection of all things beneath.
A place to sit, and the smell at my feet reminds of all the visits paid my grave state.
I insist, a place to exist would be eventually diseased or the others' seat.
I hate myself and everyone else for discussing my health.
I self service the help, first I self service myself heaping portions of self help.
Maybe, above all we, recall that disbelief with humorous forgiveness.
Maybe, a place to sit, to insist the other exist, is the exact form.
Instinct turned ink on walls now speak for all things. 
A place to exist would rejoice in the moments known love could damage my grave state.

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Plenty Tornadoes Not Tanka

Winds, 
just so persistent,
give build their own
sins.
amongst men so delivered.

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Singular Glutton

Save your energy...
I've found my center a place to sit amongst the absent.
My mother-my best thought; says she made this all just for us.
Love your enemy...
My father killed my dog-my best friend, lost.
My father killed him then disinfected both hands in our kitchen sink.
A place to sit-to insist the other exists.
Consistently I forget my missing leg; perhaps with the proper measurements
I could fashion myself an adequate replacement...
Save your energy...
My mothe stood by-my father knows whats best for me.
He says he made it all up for us-that'd we'd better make it up to Him.
Love your enemy...
My mommy is secretly my most cherished memory.
I've found my center.
I dismiss those cornering me, gladly
burning down my home in the name of the one re-assuring me.
Save your energy...
I hate myself and everyone else.
I love speaking about myself; yes, I'm even a master at slaving myself. I service the help-first I self service myself heaping portions of self help. I hate myself and anybody else discussing my health. Accomplishments? Laundry lists!

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Breath

I've been bedridden all day with an expensive migraine;
Drugged breath.Heartbeat strangled. Pulse struggles.
Eyes or holes or puss soaked reminders?
Drugged breath. Heartbeat strangled. Pulse struggles.
Lungs frosted. Nuts up stomach. Lunch stuck, taste forgotten.
 My pen is long gone from being the root of any personal discovery.
Drugged breath. Heartbeat strangled. Pulse struggles.
Facial features melt down mirror; egg yolk slicks out from throat.
Claim from me oceans of oxygen-I glimpse moments lost-replaced
with her image, forgotten.
 Cigerettes aren't suicide. I'll awake with drugged breath, frosted lungs 
coughing up blood colored regrets.
  I've been bed ridden all day with this expensive migraine-awake and praying
to the distance from life my behavior creates....

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How To Trade Energy For Flight

Straight across-               -Land lost
Land forgiving-                 -Hands permitting; men do not sail old feelings.
Land lost men do not sail old feelings.
fish do not scale tall buildings.
Hands straight across women, permitting, are just bent arms forgiving.
Men, like Him do not sail old feelings.
My ribs complicate matters and to the fish under clearer water,
my complaints, I'd trade them double for the price of pressure.
How ya doing,' How ya been?
Come on Babe, invite me in! 
Just hands across women. control arm bent beneath, just allowing
my ribs to complicate what matters. And to Him above thunder and water,
Thank You, I'd make it up to You were I to know.

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Fancy Bath

Six pounds of flesh did I carry toward that fancy bath water.
While I've allowed this body what did collect so far.
Vanity cramps my hand; truth above
lies, beneath six feet of earth where buried that chatty banter.
Smiles. I've allowed this body what did collect so far.
Disgusting wobbles of alcohol problems,
courses of action are troubled promotions with a fancy view.
Overcoming the ninth curious time I've allowed this body to die,
666 while vanity lies. Smiles, disgusting. Courses overcoming 666.
Six pounds of flesh did collect toward that fancy bath water
while I allowed her body my vanity cramps.
Beneath lights of sky, her chatty banter, smiles and views
overcome the body's neglect, allowing water.