alternative, haiku, independent, literature, Uncategorized

Arthur et Patti

Such beautiful noise

We rest like white winter winds

Conditioned.

 

Bad Moon Rising love

Sounds tranquilize fear and ego

Afloat in music.

 

Get famous for free

Naked before lust filled mobs

Digital time speeds.

 

Insanity is

Doing this at four AM

Times are not a changin’.

 

Sleeping couch, not I.

Bug eyes see shadows dancing.

Joke poem not funny.

 

Doors, infinite keys.

No love for numb hearted snow.

Music. Free. Sacred.

 

Jack Blare, Intentional Insanity (2016)

Advertisements
Standard
alternative, free verse, independent, literature, Uncategorized

Idea Fuel

The fabric of air sparks and shimmers

Blue fragments, cracked, untethered mind.

Heartache, I have heart ache

in the literal sense.

I want this to go on forever.

I want this to be the end

But psychosis won’t come yet,

Neither will death.

This is a bridge, an archway,

An in between

Where nothing means anything

And everything means nothing.

Jack Blare, Intentional Insanity (2016)

Standard
addiction, free verse, improvisation, independent, literature, Uncategorized

Nosebleeds & Nobility

God is not here

And the weather is cold,

Veins icy rivers of tainted blood

Brain drained of dopamine.

 

Insanity

Staying awake until our minds disintegrate

Into a beautiful Pandemonium

Of bright and nameless colours and subtle dream music.

 

Winter keeps the light away

So we don’t see our sunken eyes or sunken hopes.

Timeless under lightless ground

Life through machine and medication.

 

Everything is about either sex or money

And I’m not getting either

But I do enjoy this gentle slide

Into the shadow ether.

 

Desire poisoned and desperate,

Guilt a Murdered Crow on my shoulder,

Haunting every dream.

I just need to silence

The tortured screams of reality.

God is not here and we’re

Broken and fading.

Jack Blare, Intentional Insanity (2016)

Standard
addiction, alternative, free verse, improvisation, independent, literature, Uncategorized

The House Always Wins

It’s easy to tell who the new kids are.

Its just a game still, there’s no death in their eyes.

Hepatitis sounds like a foreign nation to them

And their friends are just starting to die.

 

Habituation, isolation, then all the money is gone

And you’re selling your computer,

And you’re on your knees in front of old men,

Then strung out for another cold night on some city bench.

A gram of coke, a handful of speed,

A shot of hydro, free M and weed,

Twenty tranquilizers, four types of psych meds.

 

Still so down, so listless & bored.

Still can’t crack a smile.

It’s easy to tell who the new kids are,

They’re still having fun.

And everyone says they’ll never do it.

And everyone thinks it won’t happen to them.

 

Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)

Standard
alternative, free verse, independent, literature, Uncategorized

Strange Times for Strange Minds

With little hesitation she informed me that we were not exclusive.

The idea suited me, being so tired of being tied up

In expectations and pointless conversations.

When next we met she made a quick decision.

I was wounded with shame and entranced by beauty.

It was a cold goodbye on the front porch.

Her last kiss sweet and sensuous, tinged with wintry strangeness.

 

The coffee was very good conversation. Usually I hate it.

Coffee is for grown-ups.

I admit that I was not prepared for the way her attention struck me,

Brought me in soaked in sweet honey and weakened my knees.

I admit I was not prepared for the way her bluebell eyes

With the subtle gold make-up drew me in, hypnotic.

I didn’t expect her to keep strolling into my thoughts

like I gave out a skeleton key.

Too old to be sentimental, yet still utterly fascinated in a wordless way.

Strange times for strange minds.

Strange minds out of time.

Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)

Standard
addiction, alternative, free verse, improvisation, independent, literature, Uncategorized

Johnny Razor

Johnny hates himself.

He hates his life, his friends, his suburban “prison”.

Johnny hates the sun so he’s never seen it rise,

But instead is fascinated with the colour red

Deep and dark like fresh blood from the vein.

 

Johnny carves canyons into his arms

Because Johnny doesn’t care.

 

Johnny sticks needles and dope into his arms

Because Johnny doesn’t care.

 

Can’t even please a woman, boy is pathetic,

Limp cocked useless waste of space.

 

But Johnny has his dope

So Johnny doesn’t care

 

Johnny is swearing off sex, swearing off love, swearing off people.

He’s going to the downtown shooting gallery

Waiting for a direct hit to put him in the sky or in the ground.

 

“There is nothing and no one I’d rather get fucked by

Than the tip of a full syringe.”

 

Sad attempt at writing

Modern, witty poems

That reference cool new things

Canned Beer, celebrities and

Long walks home alone through icy nights.

 

He wishes he was Jim Carroll

Pumped through a fuzz pedal

Amp turned up to 11.

He’s really just another lost kid

Trying to make something out of nothing.

Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)

Standard
addiction, alternative, free verse, independent, literature, Uncategorized

10000000001

A stranger stranded in the mist.

Figures blur unintelligible words,

Ghosts in the shadow of my hometown.

The form of a beautiful naked woman,

Glowing like moonlight reflected off a still northern lake.

The more I walk, the longer the road stretches on like a river of midnight oil.

 

Distant voices call my name in the night, awake, alone.

Seeing through the disguise adopted to keep from sliding down the slippery slope, of lonesome, drugs, depression and death.

Disguise of society, the selling of the soul

Long before the en…end? Is that what I meant?

Long before the legal age of consent.

 

One more product, semi-efficient,

Ignorant, stupid and loyal to the system.

Or maladjusted young adult trying to find meaning in an unforgiving world, scars, SSRIs12 step programs, graduate high school,

College diploma and regular Jesus doses.

Financially fettered, fed lies by the system then fed truths into their shredder.

 

Addict/dependent.

Maybe there is no difference. Chemically enslaved.

At least with pain pills there’s a satisfying high.

These sertraline capsules just keep the prescriptions filling

To keep the insanity, true insanity, of SSRI withdrawal, at bay a little longer. We all have our vices, why this too?

Too much too young, chemical changes in the brain.

Anxiety, panic disorder, knives, flagged vein, walls drip with my own blood.

 

Desire something enough

And it’s worth the pain of attempting it,

Even worth the pain of failure.

 

-Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)

Standard