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Best Poems Written by Jon K

Below are the all-time best Jon K poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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123
Details | Jon K Poem

Ghosting

Sleep, those putrid portions of decay,
wither away at my conscience,
and nudge my crusted eyes open,
to the pain of daylight usurping the drape.

Legs slump, feet thud the carpet,
to another unwelcome day,
how many times will I have to hide today?
How long until I can return?

Heart permanently broken,
spirit yielded and mind wanders,
a dark forest with tall trees and no sound,
limbo, chaos, a gaping nothing.

The day passes me by,
torturous and slow, 
filled with the nothing I have become,
filled, yet empty and vast.

Home again, I sit silently,
staring through wet sobs at my feet,
the floor is stained and bitty,
from the repetition of my despair.

Destitute, my thoughts take me,
to the depravity and loss
that forged the look on my face,
permanent, vacant and hollow sadness.

I think I need to scream,
but I am afraid to start for fear of madness,
and that I may not be able to stop,
but yes, I need to caterwaul and wail.

Internalized, my stomach tightens,
my shoulders bob and my chest heaves,
an element of control over my breath,
and the short bursts of sound in my throat.

Is it possible to be murdered,
but only on the inside where it counts?
For I can sense death from inside of me,
I welcome it and beckon it to take me.

I smell its putrid seasoning,
disgusting and harsh yet strangely addictive,
inhaling deeply I wish it to take me
across the Styx to the eternal dimension of the Damned.

It is unfair that I use up this time,
It is so deserved by the less fortunate,
I wish I could transfer it,
and be at rest for once.

Day a blur I hesitantly get into bed,
the bed I bought for two yet only ever holds one,
an acrid reminder of broken dreams,
a place to begin my nightmares anew.

I feel it now, it has overcome me,
my body shuts down and my mind is alert,
panic and fear hold my hand,
like old friends helping their accomplice.

I am gripped by the cold sharp embrace,
like bony fingers pulling together my rib cage,
I begin to scream but the slightest sound,
brings goosebumps to my skin.

Death is taking me, I smile,
Determined and brave I mouth "I have been waiting for you",
my voice wakes me, my eyes open, I bolt upright,
in misery I acknowledge that it is not my time.

A walk to the shoreline, I sit and hope,
that perhaps all I need to do is wait,
for my love to return to me my heart,
or for the rest of me to be taken.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017



Details | Jon K Poem

Go To Work

Oh God

I have to go to work today
I really can't be bothered,
I have to face that damn bright light
and bloody cold when I kick off the covers.

Urgh

My alarm's about to go off too
It's like I've only slept for half an hour,
When my foot touches the floor reality touches me
as I prepare to address the shower.

Pfft

Ok I'm wet but still not awake
and I've brushed my teeth and hair,
and the mere thought of driving makes me sick
just not quite sick enough to care.

Meh

Pulling my trousers over my shirt
made me lie back on the bed for a sec,
you know what, stuff it, off they come again
bugger it what the heck.

Bleurgh

Pick up the phone and call my boss
"I'm sorry but I will have to bail",
Some metaphor for illness soon begins
but my breath would tell the tale. 

Aaaah

Falling back onto my bed naked, relieved and clean
a little guilty at my little slice of heaven,
I would have to admit I feel much better now
than I ever would at quarter to seven.

Zzzzz

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

Details | Jon K Poem

The Singer

In the dark she is waiting, 200 kilos of velvet
separating one world from the other.
It was art to her, she was under no pretence,
she was an instrument, and she made the other instruments merge in a delicious unprecedented harmony.

A poet, a warrior, a lover, a sinner.  She has tasted the divine and the melodramatic, to capture moments, photographs, for the use of summoning emotion and reality.

She had been hurt and she had hurt, she had walked towards hell and ran away from heaven.  Beginning as a muse and then enslaving the musicians one by one with her whispy and sultry tones.

An electric keyboard breaks the mumbling, vibrato, a pause, a cheer.  The drape rises and she peers from the darkness, masked by shadow to the floodlit mass in front.

The drums are brushed gently as the crowd softens to the figure emerging from the dark.  Not knowing if they were permitted to break the spell or join it, the crowd pay their respect with silence.

You can almost see the phantoms she has witnessed being beckoned into her.  Short linear smoky essences, touching her then being pulled inside.  She saunters slowly towards the mic, eyes closed, and with both hands it becomes a sceptre.  This will be a heartfelt song again.

She inhales, her belly fills, and she breathes life into the mic.  Her tones slice through the thick air, soft yet with such projection and feel.  The crowd can not contain themselves and let out a cheer as their eyes fill. She masterfully picks up her bass, as if resurrecting a lost love, and it sings for her.

Her hair is gone now, most of the crowd know why and they want to cry.  But she holds them, captivated, and hypnotises a smile into them.  They sway to her, some hold their chests as if covering some hole for fear of their hearts falling out.

This will be the last time we will feel her grace.  But she will be summoned herself.  The band know this.  She sits, the treatment has taken it out of her.  But her voice never falters.  That chair will be kept alongside the drummer that loved her.  Her bass will be his kryptonite.  But he will keep it close anyway.

The curtain will not fall tonight, it shall remain at half mast.  She will bow and we will fall at her mercy one last time.  In homage, and respect.  She will leave but she will never be forgot.  She has trained herself into them, and she will always be singing.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

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You Are Everywhere

It was a gorgeous summers day today,
not a cloud to grace the skies,
the cobalt blue that held my gaze,
while I envisioned my lovers eyes.

A radiance warmed my hair and skin,
from the ochre sun above,
my heart leapt but sank back deep within,
as I remembered you my love.

Time passed by and the light was done,
while the horizon swallowed your hair,
those golden locks of angels sun,
I still find loose in my lair

The darkness engulfed the afternoon,
in its deep and cold embrace,
it stirred up the fact you left too soon,
it was a metaphor for my empty space.

The stars began to prick the sky,
reminding me of that huge spark,
we would feel as we passed each other by,
and the time we both made a remark.

Afraid to dream I sit here awake,
and I stare to the night for some respite,
but its blackness defies me and watches me break,
and I break, and I break in the night.

True love was a lie, a cruel torturous trap,
which has me snared as it's garotting my soul,
I blundered in wasted but through no mishap,
yet I fail to comprehend it's goal.

Dawn surely breaks and birds sing their song,
as I'm crying and dying and sore,
I hope that this day my heart melts away,
and I feel nothing for no one no more.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

Details | Jon K Poem

I Have Dignity

If you knew, you would understand.
If you cared, you'd try.
If you don't you're underhand,
so why not tell me goodbye.

I am not a stepping stone.
I am not a temporary thing.
I am not here to make you smile,
or for your bias happiness to bring.

This is life not just a test.
This is no rehearsal.
This is over for the best,
how about that for a reversal.

If it is given then give some back.
If it is beautiful share it.
If it is broke then let it be,
do not provoke nor dare it.

Farewell to you half heartedly.
Farewell to you ex lover.
Farewell for I have dignity,
and now I must recover.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017



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The Rehearsal

Today I stopped waiting. 
I had promised distance.
I never break promises,
but this time,
it was survival.

I ranted a little,
accused a lot,
a disgusting manipulation,
for I must sew the seed,
the opposite of love.

So I am cut off,
I am hated,
and I have totally lost,
control, happiness, warmth,
but I am levelled.

Today I weigh a bit less,
and I move a bit quicker.
This day I cease hiding
from myself
and the truth I denied.

I am free now,
and I will rebuild.
My house will be bigger,
than even back then,
and it will boast a great Master.

My heart is white today,
it's blackness is gone.
My will serves as a ticket
toward the long journey ahead,
destination is justified and fluid.

Those that leave you,
make you a larger vessel.
Once emptied it will hunger
to be filled to it's brim,
with a gorgeous golden meniscus.

Do not run, do not shield,
for it is a valorous goal.
To know the pain you risk
and the robbing of the time,
preluded by hope and satisfaction.

So thank the lovers in a moment of clarity,
thank the thieves of hearts and memories,
think of them as salient and sweet.
For you are enriched and unburdened,
and you are ready to admit the light.

Rage at the dark,
Rant at the ravagers of souls,
but welcome them to the stage.
For to master the act,
one must first master the rehearsal.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

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Insecurity

What recently smouldered
now grips to my shoulders
a prickled and frosty forepain,
a pre-emptive breath
while selectively deaf
to the gut contradicting the brain.

No plural demise
from oceanic eyes
could drown my heart ablaze,
my will shall not bend
while I share with a friend
that I would miss your cobalt gaze.

At your side I am taller
but apart I feel smaller
'til I know I will be there again,
you're all I have got
and I need a fresh shot
your toxicity is leaving my veins.

In a few days I'll be yours
and I'll feel restored
negatives will be erased,
it's nice that I care
but I'll hold off to share
I am sure it is just a phase.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

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Battle Scars

There is a fire in my veins this night,
and I shall blaze across the skies,
as I must learn to tame this light,
lest it burn deep behind my eyes.

There are ghosts of battles in my breath,
from wars that play out in my mind,
whilst I speak, the tremor of true love bereft,
can be detected by kin and the kind.

My sleep, an inescapable venue for the parody,
rehearsed by monsters on a satirical stage,
delivering wounding lines deep into me,
that narrate waking life page by page.

Tonight is the one where I empty myself,
of love, and hope and dreams,
necessitated by madness and draining of health,
of collapses, and cries and screams.

I shall not sit dormant long enough,
as I need ink for my writing,
I will pen more words of loss or love,
when my subconscious mind stops fighting.

Begrudgingly I understand now I need,
this love, this caring, this pain,
it is born of aptitude not want nor greed,
so I shall visit those lands again.

I shall wield a mighty double edged sword,
as the march is beaten out by my heart,
with gusto I will charge right toward,
the embrace of my next counterpart.

That first touch, that spark, that melts inside,
to the sweet fanfare that halts the war,
The perception of time that at least for a stride,
to have torture and loneliness no more.

90 parts spent aching and breaking and spent,
and feeling like there should be no tomorrow,
I will be strong and strive towards that 10 per cent,
where the requited replaces the sorrow.

So sleep now and ready to bare your skin,
at the morning as it illuminates your pillow and mind,
suck up the darkness and stow it within,
as you are beautiful, and alive, now,
rewind.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

Details | Jon K Poem

Faith

My chest has split, it is agape
my will pours out in a constant stream,
which bends my spine,
drags my head to the ground.

I am devoid of many an emotion,
except the ones forced into me
which weld me and smother me,
and smear their forlorn sorrow upon my face.

I can touch them, the feelings,
they rocket out of me onto paper,
and I burn in their trails,
while their infernos singe and dry my eyes.

I am taught, yet I still listen out,
I am one with the wind
I am in its eye, but I would hear you,
as my world whirls and smashes around me.

In the thunderous glory of my stormy tempest I cringe,
I am fetal and wasted,
my wrists bend and my gut sags,
I have given away my power, and my pen is running dry.

But I have learned that some
can not contain this gift,
and it smothers and crushes,
and it is as wasted as its conjurer when the spell snaps.

Life is not just nor written,
Karma is a tool of lies,
for a good man to fall
the darkness is in front.

they say the opposite of love is hate,
but this is not true,
the opposite of love is loss,
and I have lost to you.

But while air rushes into my lungs,
and I still wake every day,
I will empty you from my eyes each morning,
as I hopelessly wait for a change in tide.

I will fight the storm inside of me,
and I will brave the dreadful weather,
as you are still taking away my breath,
and you invade every dream.

Please come back,
this is so wrong,
I am nothing any more,
I love you.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

Details | Jon K Poem

When I Closed My Heart

I blinding light would fill up the night,
Knew not when the morrow began,
A beautiful sight filled with delicious delight,
A reprieve that could liberate man.

Devotion and love but when push came to shove,
False and dishonest, the man was debased,
When off came the glove she was completely free of,
Responsibility and promise, about-faced.

Despite all his fears he would still love for years,
Full of hope and of hurt and of pride,
Bereft of tears until he lost count of beers,
As the popped corks would expose what's inside.

It was not his first in fact even worse,
This happened over and over again,
From the empty to the burst, as if he was cursed,
With complete inability to gather refrain.

The mirror would show that the man would still grow,
But inside was getting smaller and withered,
His heart now slow no more chances to blow,
What raced before became merely a slither.

It did not set him free this inability,
First was forced then would gladly accept,
But the adept could see exposed fragility,
A metaphoric carpet lifted then under swept.

Now wrinkled and grey with no yesterday,
Worth giving any kind of thought,
His body will stay while his mind's parting ways,
Now the love he is after can be bought.

I watched this old man but did not understand,
His mumbles and rants began my head start,
It is not my plan, to have my hopes and dreams canned,
I think that was when I closed my heart.

Copyright © Jon K | Year Posted 2017

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