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Best Poems Written by Marcus Jones

Below are the all-time best Marcus Jones poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

R.I.P

As I sat there, in one of my most familiar settings
my mood completely changed gears
but for once it wasn't going downhill
At first, it felt as if I was just numb
almost melancholy, even
but I think it just took a while for the mood to click in my mind
The feeling I was going through was one I hand't experianced in...
...god knows how long
a sense of relief
A cool, soothing calm slowly took over 
I almost smiled
I had gained a tiny ounce of the hope that I lost so long ago
This time
I actually believed in the normal crap 
I usually try to tell myself
I was going to get my stuff together
really make an effort to get my life on the right track
I walked out the door and took a breath
of fresh, pure air
It felt as if a large burden was finally lifted off my shoulders
I walk to the car with the mindframe that 
I can make it through anything...
...The dark, mysterious shadow
that I din't seem to notice
drives away
On the ground
I could tell I only had a few minutes left
if that
I think I still see the cloud of smoke
from the gunshot in the air
but it could just be the haze covering my eyes
I finally smile
"Figures"
The last words I'm able to get out
before my last gasp 
of fresh, pure air
Marcus Jones
R.I.P.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

The Burn Pt. 2

Exhaustion and sickness 
are flowing through my veins
The past few days seem like a dream
But a good one for a change
I had another night with her
Better than the last 
and giving me promise for the future
Words mean nothing to me 
when I look into her eyes
they don't have to 
Everything that needs to be said is
just through penetrating gazes 
and smiles that sing
I miss her already
but it won't be long until she again
leaves me dumbfounded 
in a state of bliss
Until our lips fight over who's more 
sensual and passionate
Until our bodies shiver from the touch of the other
I see her in the dark
I hear her in my head
I feel her in my fantasies.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

Just a Glance

If the mirror shows the truth
Then the mirror scares the hell out of me
It shows how much I've aged
I can see the bitter defeat in my eyes
The wear and tear of my experiances have caught up with me
I can barely recognize myself
But no one else seems to notice
With acceptance a million miles away
And ignorance right in front of me
I'll choose to be blind like all the others.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

Hard Rain

Last night I was drinking and watching Hard Rain
I went outside for a smoke and saw a real hard rain
plowing down on the ground surrounding me
My first reaction was to take a walk,
same as always
This time I actually did it though
Stumbling around on the midnight streets
of the alien neighborhood I live in,
finding myself lost
The road to the left leads back home
I take off running to the right 
Running faster and longer than I ever thought I could
The rain slacked,
I'm walking around soaked from head to toe,
feeling foolish
No idea where my false home is
I grew tired, 
walked slower, 
beginning to give up
I collapsed to the ground,
rolling over to see my house right in front of me
I picked myself up,
limping to the door
The whole event felt significant
I broke it up a million different ways
None of it making any sense,
at least not the kind of sense that fixes things
So now I find myself sleeping with sunglasses on
Laying in bed smoking my Pall Malls down to the filter,
sometimes more
As Tom Waits finds the heart of Saturday night behind my chest plate of stone,
trying to squeeze out a couple more beats before turning cold.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

Fleas

My mind wanders,
drifting into that moment
Holding your beautiful frame closer to me than anyone has ever been
Absorbing every taste, touch and feeling that you gave to me
Everything fell into place as I laid with you
Not once having distant thoughts 
or the slightest shiver of boredom
Looking into your eyes showed me how different you were
I became lost in the depths as you gazed back
Everytime I held your lips to mine,
a moment I never wanted to end passed
The slow, powerful passion behind the touch
of all that was mine against all that was you
A night great enough to receive the title of "THAT NIGHT"
And That Night showed me something that I need more of in my life...
...you.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

Infection

I was a junky once...
Shooting up is like a disease you have control over,
but can't stop fueling
You get higher and higher and you always fall twice as hard
You can feel pieces of your mind, body, and soul floating away into the sea of 
addiction
With every shot you lose a little more hope
Every empty needle is another broken dream
In the beginning you see it as being crazy and obscure,
just like anyone else judging from the outside
It's amazing how quickly it becomes a familiar and normal part of your lifestyle
It's a part of you, just as important as breathing, 
if not more
Even if you do get out alive,
everything inside of you is dead
You slowly start to resume the routines of your life before the sickness,
but it can never be the same
It haunts you in your dreams
It laughs at you in your nightmares
It call for you when you least expect it
And your veins cry back for it like an infant to its mother,
begging you to take the pain away
Time will go by
You'll feel close to human again
But the random shakes and aches will always remind you of the demoralizing 
underworld you were once a part of...
...and in some ways, 
you'll always be a part of.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

Untitled #1

When you finally give up 
and stop caring
about the most important thing in your life
It leaves you feeling dead inside
The cards are out on the table
The decision is no longer mine
to deal with
My heart can only be broken so many times
So
the hell with it
why not just let my heart grow
dark and cold?
Nothing is past saving.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

My Passion

Sometimes
When I'm huddled up on the floor at 3 AM
furiously scribbling down any and every thought
that pours out of my mind
The question strikes me
"Why the hell do you write?"
The question is honest and relevant
For the fame?
No, not for the fame
I couldn't give a damn about the fame
For money?
Hell no, are you an idiot?
The chances of anyone reading my stuff are low enough as it is
Let alone actually paying me for it
To get your feelings out?
Possibly, it has kept me from losing my mind
on quite a few occasions
But I've kept everything inside
and let a brutal war rage on in my head
as I sat in silence
on just as many occasions
I think in the end
I write for the connection
The possibility of someone glancing at my words 
and saying,
"Hey, I know how he feels."
Or maybe some lonely, mixed up kid
not unlike myself
reading and saying,
"Wow, someone actually understands."
If I could make a connection,
just one connection
then screw everything else.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

A Random Thought On a Pointless Day

Life isn't giving me too much
I don't really mind though
Because I know I've never actually tried to get anything out of life
I guess we have a mutual understanding of nothing
Sure, I want to adventure, 
to explore,
fight
love
lust
steal 
give
and feel all the true emotions I've never even come close to
But here I sit in my childhood home nearly 2 decades later...
...not really my childhood home,
but why not?
Every new place feels the same as the last,
I just have different memories connected to certain places
I have lived in so many places that no one 
ever had a chance to truely feel like home
So here I am, 
homeless,
with no ambition
or excitement
so what the hell has kept me going all this time
simple...
...it's a girl.

Details | Marcus Jones Poem

Alone, I Cry

I put up fronts for the people around me
Like different masks I can change
for a given situation
Honestly, no one knows the real me
And honestly, I don't know if there is one
So at night
Alone, I cry
In the morning
when the light shines through
trying to make everything 
clean and pure
I reflect
wondering
"What's wrong with me?"
"Why can't I be happy?"
I smoke my cigarette
and try to collect myself for the day to come
But every day seems to be blending
into another
I can no longer tell them apart
But every night
Alone, I cry
It seems to be all that I have left
But even that is something to hold onto
So I smile as the tears
fall down into oblivion
I embrace the darkness
Alone, I cry.