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John Pettinger Poem
I drifted to this place
When might I drift away?
Am lost in time and space
Cold feet encased in clay
Afraid. I am offbeat
Next year I will as well
Shamefully repeat
Tucked inside my shell
Are false masks better than
The fear I have no face?
Why not be a real man
Contempt for this disgrace
The others seem together
My disappointed self
Chafes against the leather
Of life upon a shelf
The hourglass is filling
Sitting here regretting
I make no progress chilling
My purposeless upsetting
False Christian and false doctor
Puzzled father, baffled mate
Away with all the awkward
Before it’s just too late
Fastened here so tightly
Accurate? Or no?
Why not live more rightly?
Who has shown me so?
And bathroom glass reveals
My fortune’s lonesome actor
No alibi conceals
No outside minds a factor
Searing streak of insight
It’s I. I see that now
Knot inside my windpipe
And sweat upon my brow
The phantoms hang around
For my eyes lone to see
Cant seem to shut them down
Should I just leave them be?
I crave for life to change
But what is it I do?
Will others find it strange
To live with someone new
Stinking, stagnate coward!
Seek no outside forces!
My weaknesses they tower
Sturdy as wild horses
Perhaps best not to glance
Sure not a pretty sight
For once my courage stands
I will . With all my might
I hold fast to my ground
What ground is it I seek?
Today it shall be found
But not amongst the weak
To love and feel essential
Control , companionship
To fill up my potential
To bareness shall I strip
I steel my face with sternness
I will retreat no more
And now with manly firmness
I free my limited self
Copyright © John Pettinger | Year Posted 2014
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John Pettinger Poem
The office was a creeper van
My mates were old and youthed
Worn out by life, cantankerous
Tattooed more than toothed
We placed the books in plastic socks
With frozen hands and feet
And tossed them on the icy stoops
Way up and down the street
By end of day my bones would ache
Raw shoulder from the strap
A walking corpse with empty head
I yearned to take a nap
It was not long before I knew
Don’t take me for a snob
The yellow pages weren’t my thing
Though thankfully, a job
Copyright © John Pettinger | Year Posted 2014
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John Pettinger Poem
Good News
Bad news worse news, sad news curse news
But now a shift, our pens to lift
Our minds to gently search and sift
For something good for we who choose
To find what’s bless-ed in the news
Worthy deed then? Plant a seed then.
Tell to the world , full flags unfurled
All fingers, hearts and toes uncurled
That man is good. That man can win
That man may sometimes subdue sin
Very small things, grandly tall things
Were masses fed? Were kind words said?
Did your husband make up the bed?
Inspiration, your story brings
Free full of joy the glad soul sings
Those with right fists, left of line fists
Feel the power, this is your hour
See superb, send forth a shower
Let those with faith and atheists
Now spread the news of sublime twists
Copyright © John Pettinger | Year Posted 2014
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