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Best Poems Written by Justin Aptaker

Below are the all-time best Justin Aptaker poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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My Magellan

i am the man who weeps for the world
i am the man who weeps

i do not, I will not
bleed for the world
i’m not the one who bleeds

little sister, my love
do not dry your eyes on my account

i am a fleeting consolation

i have been
to the ends
of the world
i have seen
the great emptiness (it lies) 
on the other side of that horizon

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Hexakosioihexakontahexaphobia

i insist on suffocating slowly 
still 
i refuse to die 
imposing my will to weakness 
avoiding applying the “why”

implications are closing in, opressive 
my mind is open, fluid 
suggestive 
interposing meaning and form with 
the spoken and written letter

the light source filtered through all this 
wreckage 
the squeaking moving in, opressive 
regressive, the way my vantage remains 
a disjointed unit-whole

you persist, and i suffocate quickly 
you ask so nicely for me to die 
deposing my God damned will to power 
why do i seem to avoid the “apply”?

THE SYMBOL ON MY HAND IS BURNING

into the flesh, and back out from inside 
illuminates Prison, a chasm, a prism 
dividing a spectrum of impossible light

we wholly refract the soma, the psyche 
The Panic transforms into beauty inane 
compulsion, obsession, redemption, addiction 
we know we’re alive 
we perpetuate pain

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Ta Panta: the Re-Enchantment of Chaos

It's all imaginary
it's all real

it's all ephemeral
all eternal

every little gesture
every racing emotion

every breathless whisper
every dark and mystical room
overflowing with night air and moonlight 

nothing is ever lost
truth is what is not forgotten
suffering, we learn
learning is remembering
the pain you give me
brings me back to myself
and I remember
who and what I was
before I had eyes or ears or even chloroplasts

the symbol on my hand is changing
on fire
like all of gleaming reality itself
the pearl of price which blinds the impoverished merchants
who wander naked and lost
hawking all their wares on every noisome corner

the fire is all consuming
all sanctifying
all purifying
all changing
all revealing

I am in the fire
and in the fire, all is holy
and every last thing is eternally in flames (even the merchants)
and sleep is the great activity
and death is a dear friend
who betrays with one kiss
but whose betrayal is love incarnate

I am one
with my many selves
and though I may be above you
you hear my voice
you fumble after the meaning until it finds you

I am
the light bursting out of a broken lantern
the diamond with an infinite number of perfect cuts
the voice crying milk and honey into the wilderness
the children's song that flies above the lamentation up on the desert plane
the melody that found its way into your equations
the dream that startles you wide awake
the life that pulsates in decay and corruption
the happily ever after horror story

I am 
the unstoppable force
that meets the immovable object
and the result is nothing

nothing but the purest, clearest light
that has never entered the mind

take heart, my love
the raging storms of your own neurochemical electricity
will give birth to their own silence
all thought is designed to produce its own resounding negation
all speech is born to fade beautifully
all music is played until it is over
and it's closing time
and the bars empty
and the streets grow silent and still under the street lights

and the last enemy, who you fear with the Great Fear
unmasks herself, a friend and a lover
The Lover of lovers 
and trembling
you fall forever into her holy and erotic embrace

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Grown

i've grown weary
of this story
growing
weary
of this frame
oh so weary
of this cosmos
in which I got this name

and I can't remember why I came

I'm fearful for the leaving
can't seem to quit the game
oh how I love this loathsome body
I carry with me night and day

and when I look into the mirror
I see a stranger face

sweet solace sought in speaking
my wearisome refrain
no rest foreseen in sleeping
if I must wake again
in lukewarm purgatory
on waves that toss and strain
in sitcoms just repeating
weary lines and jokes again

and again

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The Dialogue

Money protect Me, for i am of money 
Power protect all your children who love You 
may it be always, that we remain one 
till’ all accounts settle, and we transform into none

passion for poem, wanton weakness in words 
I am nothing 
like anything 
you think you have heard 
chaos of rough draft 
order adds on each edit 
I give bread, and give breath, and you give me no credit

my father, my father, tell me why did you leave me? 
the lust of a dust castle 
seduced, she bereaved me 
she robbed me of every singed hair, I remember 
she left through the cold chimney late in December

I struggled to speak, in a world without ears 
I sought long for weeping, but never found tears 
I the day, I the night 
I am time before years 
I the moon 
I the sun 
I your most hopeful fear

Me is not I, unless words could deceive us 
my bitterness feeds on the truth that you leave us 
you leave and have left, and are leaving again 
Me equals Us, and you leave us my friend

not leaving or coming, see 
I’ve all come and left 
I have no where to go, I have no where to nest 
no bed and no pillow 
no blanket or tree 
you refuse to accept that my rest is with me

don’t tease me 
or mock, with your promise of wages 
you, the dumb-deaf demise of our weak-minded sages 
you, insisting we work seven days of the week 
you leave my hand empty and return me to the streets

it is for want of a road 
you must sleep in the streets 
I offer you rest, but you are always asleep 
I ask you to walk 
Your sun crumbled your feet 
I ask you to walk 
so you severed your wings

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The Four Corners

this four-cornered cave, i’ve been calling my home
the sun has dried up
and left bleached like a bone

this bone i’ve been living in, like an old woman’s shoe
but i have no children
and i have nothing to do

this deed that i’ve done, it has been done for me
but I was condemned
and condemned to be free

this freedom is nothing, not like freedom at all
i sit staring at shadows
shadows play on the walls

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Still Life

couple on a motor
cycle with a death wish
drum drops
still pond
early morning
coolness broken

pull that poison, pull it deeply
deeply, deeply
pull it deeply
keep that breath, like memory bitter
sweetly taste that lungs can know

a good will, strong, and a one hundred
these are made alone
for breaking
benjamin Wishing, Well behind
our time,
our pennies
are made
for throwing

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More Life

inexpressible longings
stirrings of breezes
tunes drifting on the currents, through my window
with the scent of the ionized nitrogen lighting air
and clouds, light and whispy, radient gradients of color playing between
oh, how i long to be alive again
to be alive some more
more life
always and ever, my cry
more life, more life

the music is overwhelming me
with its beauty and gravity
and chemical peace transmitted neurologic
blood currents

the pain and fear and horror of being
the promise and hope
that faith portends
my body, my flesh
craving, lusting
burning
this fire is ever present

the fire of the spirit
is ever present
longing, begging, screaming
life
more life

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Sermon From Under the Earth

blessed are the fools
who call themselves fools
for others will call them wise
 
blessed are those who cry out to the world with stammering tongues
crouching aching and sweating
over endless lines of gibberish that fall like drum beats from the tips of their frantic pens
for they will be called Earnest
 
blessed are the ones who suffer withdrawals
dope-sick
shaking and sweating
desperate for a drink or a fix
for I will make them High indeed!
 
blessed are the sexual "deviants"
cast away by the "holy" as unclean
for they know that no man or woman may call unclean
anything that God has declared clean
 
Blessed are those who shake their fists in rage
at the heavens, cursing them
for they will dance in the pouring rain

Details | Justin Aptaker Poem

Ladder

every line bears this weight
clumsy truth, crucifix-like
and in bearing alone, they are born

up and sing
on the wings of those demons we've seemingly seen
to be
descending
one ladder inverted
where once Jacob had torn
down his alter
in anger, in the dry place where we left the vision