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hear it now!

if you show yourself to me 

i will disappear under the vastness of linen filled lines.

i will run through clouded streets until my legs give way. 

if you loan yourself to me 

the farthest hills out yonder 

arent far enough for me. 

the distance to be put 'tween us 

by me, 

must be longer than the wizened vines that grow from your mothers childhood home. 

must be wider th...

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sure

i miss the child i was at 17. 

i miss 17, i miss missing, i miss loving nothing. 

i miss wanting to feel and not being old enough to get it yet.

i miss thinking i was emotionally literate. 

im 19. 

nineteen. 

i am still a baby, a kid, a viriginal chalice not yet ready to be drunk from.

there is no slow down, you crazy child when it comes to me. 

my onlookers wince as i choo...

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big girls don't cry except when it is absolutely not the right time to do so.

am i hungry or has the pit returned.

that stupid fucking pit.

its an eternal loop, circling in and out of itself.

floating dead centre in my gut.

particles of another girl explode and expand out of it, 

overcome by this strange girl from the strange world.

i weep on my mothers lap, 

i retch over porcelin, patterned.

seeing my sister for the first time in weeks, 

she glow...

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don't hmu.

youre a good little girl,

he types.

youre submissive arent you, 

he moans, over text.

he expects a beguiled, 

blushing emoji in response.

what he gets is three dots and an empty silence so loud he remembers what he is.

a greasy teen (21 years of age).

a lusty manchild looking for another child. 

he tells me im a cute and submissive girl, 

with luscious milk bags. 

...

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lost my way

my soft soles patter over the cold slates that make up the maze of halls im scurrying through.

i am on an adventure, a treacherous journey,

to retrieve a single key for a locked door ive been trying to batter down my entire life.

there are others, winding their ways through the spiralling turrets.

sometimes we even fall in unison, 

our shoes hitting the same beats, on the same beate...

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girls and their nonsense.

floating in that acrid pool of nothingness, 

a feather kissed the tip of my nose and whispered softly over my face.

in that moment, decided. 

i watch the village of women who surround me each day, 

awash with a soft awe at their mossy eyes and woolen hands. 

i link arms with the girl i love most on a late night walk, 

running from the boy who asked me to give apart of myself.

...

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poetrypoetprosepoemteenage girlgirlhoodfeministfeminismfeminist writingfeminist poetrywomanhoodgrowing painsself imagefemale outlookfemale empowermentwritingshortsonglovelight

you know the bliss of evil

i've seen the smallest, tall creatures be eaten alive from the inside.

a quick glance to the left and under the bed will tell you all you need to know. 

the festering, rotten bed frame.

assembled by the very thing that chained me onto it for years.

but when i finally broke my own chords, vocal and the ones restraining,

another creature crawled from under the bed and took my place. 

...

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an ode to Nancy

she died on the bathroom floor you know. 

a cut on her ribs. 

the rib borne from man, 

killed the girl on the bathroom floor. 

no one had kindness. no one had words of condolences. 

only four pictures and a note, 

only they proved someones love for her. 

the things that made her beautiful, 

an innocence lost, 

a bleach blonde tangle, 

and a vicious lover from a doomed...

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the day I decorated one side of my wall

on the day i decorated one side of my wall, 

there was a statue that fell with a crash, 

and cratered the ground. 

a statue whos golden plaque was read aloud to me as a child. 

and on the day i decorated one side of my wall, 

with the movie quotes, 

and the pretty people, 

on that day my eyes bruised themselves silly. 

my pockets full of hours, and grief. 

non violent pu...

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prosepoetrypoetwritingpoemnon fictiontruthfulstoryshort storyshortmoderngirlhood

parties are the end of the world.

ive been invited to a party this saturday. 

i think i will go, 

i think i will get as drunk as i can. 

to feel the painful crushing weight of the sunday hangover. 

im going to act as if i am in a french film. 

i will tell each person a different lie, 

tell them something i've made up about myself. 

these people dont know me. 

dont know me at all. 

 

but whats more lik...

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poetrypoempoetwriterprosenon fictiondiaryself lovestudentgirlhoodwomanhood

immature in elementary

i'm choosing to forget the stick and poke image, 

of myself in my head. 

my likeness is one i want to be liked. 

the stick and poke is immature and elementary. 

think your high school aquaintance,

who always wanted a tattoo. 

but 15 was still too young. 

so they mutilated the innocent skin of their thighs. 

the mutliated image of my body, my face, my ugly wretched soul

b...

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poetrypoempoetwritingprosenon fictionfictiongrowing painsteenagerhigh schoolbody positivityfeminismmetaphorkidchildsunkenstory

a bang trim

to feel as if one has emerged from a cloud of dust each time they wake, has to mean a great deal. 

it's what's on your mind, as you duet with the girl on the other side of your headphones. 

it must feel like the brightening of the day, the singing of the earliest bird, the sweat after the fight.

at least this is what you think to yourself. 

for you it means to be able to run two steps ...

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poemprosestorywritingpoetrypoet19girlhoodteenage girlnon fictionshort storyfictionthird personmusic

TEENAGE GIRLS

who wants the teenage girl
sitting on her rustled bedsheets. 
stained tshirt, stained tear tracks. 
smiling, cooing and ooing at the people on the tv. 
blushing when he kisses the girl she wants to be. 
or when she sits alone in the cinema, grinning. 
toothy smiles, outrageous laughs
too loud even for the rest. 
seeing the best film in the world. 
then another best film in the world. 
co...

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poempoetryprosenon rhymingteenage girlsgirlhoodlovegrowing painsgrowing upwritingwriternon fiction

NEVER BEEN KISSED

love feels like cold jealousy. 
sitting across from one another. 
the table could be worlds and oceans. 
i sting with furious stomach churning envy. 
snakes and beetles scurrying between my legs. 
closed and rotten now i know what i do. 
she is so much younger than i,
the times my time was always first, 
no longer exists. 
she broke a cycle as old as i, and therefor 
as old as my time. 
...

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poetrypoemswritingprosenon rhymingsistersgirlhoodteenage girlslovegrowing painsgrowing upnon fictionshort story

I AM! I AM! I AM!

charcoal toothpaste. 
teeth whitening strips. 
water on a bathroom floor muddied with muttered songs. 
cans of who and why on a windowsill. 
forehead sweat. made to stick fringes.
quick to anger. founded in a parent not so unlike. 
jerking awake. jolting asleep. comfort nul. 
calm mornings when the sun alarms. 
evil feelings when green and yellow lie dormant. 
stuttered uttered eye contac...

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poemprosepoetryselfteenagegirlhoodwomanhoodlovelifelearningacceptancewritingnon fiction

wading deep, bloody water

its hard to measure a single beating heart 
to measure its clawing judgement. 
to measure the mothers beating blood while she’s
wrenching, retching and writhing. 
its hard to measure disgust, 
difficult to seethe while corps-less hearts beat inside you. 
its easy to declare a hidden hate, 
easy to let it wage a war on a world you don’t understand. 
its hard to watch, fallen sisters. 
its ...

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poemproseabortionpoliticallovemotherhoodwomenfeminismfeministmonstrous feminine19non fiction

A Letter To Mr Larkin

An April Sunday brings the snow,
delicately bouncing against the panes of high windows as I watch the dedicated stride towards the Brynmor Jones, strangers to me as I am to you but although we have not met, I feel I know you.

A jam stained solid oak table adorned with scraps of paper, jottings only I could understand reminding me of the perilous homework
often not completed from my school day...

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Bob War (Ode to Humane Farming)

I was an adult before I realized that barbed wire is not called Bob War, because that was how my grandfather pronounced it, and he happened to be the person who mentioned it to me most often, as he was the person who would always tell us kids that we needed to help repair the fence. Some concerned neighbour would call to tell him some of the cows were out, and he’d tell us to grab some Bob War and...

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That Sunday Night

It’s been three days since we’ve met and talked again, four years since I grew fonder of you, five years since we first met. 

For six hours that night, we both poured our hearts out because we owed each other time that we never had. 

Two hours before, you could hardly imagine how many times I tried on different clothes because I badly wanted to look good for you but not wanting to look despe...

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proselovedatingunrequitted loveadmiration

Entropy

She'll take them back

The stones cut carefully and stacked against her

Her winds find ways through the cracks

She'll take them back 

All content property of Chandra Mossine

*This original poem was published by the Columbia Art League in their 2014 Interpretations collection

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chandra mossineentropynaturepoempoetryproseshort formshort poem

The Way the World Ends

This is the way the world ends.
Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Do not fear the light of the dying star for it will yield no pain.
It is mortal, it is ended.
Fading out like the dimming of the candle, then extinguished, forever.
No light shall ever again grace these barren lands
As dust forever billows across its scarred surface
And drinks its voluptuous seas.
Like a standing ovation,
...

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EarthUniverseEndDeathPoetryProse

Shakti

The world is mysterious but really so simple...the meaning of life is love...and to love is to create...when you begin to love something new takes form...billions of people and creatures and we are all here together with this connection...the axis mundi...the stem of the lotus...the cosmic connection of heaven and earth...we have that...in Hinduism every god/goddess has it's counter goddess/god......

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prose

My Book 'Whispers From Within'

 

 
Hi! just a quick blog about my book 'Whispers From Within' (self published) ISBN: 978-0955810343 and if you would like to find out more, please go to www.thepoetjohn.com/mybook.htm you can also see and hear poetry from there too.

Below are the three reviews on the back cover. But first my own words that are also on the back cover:
...

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B safe 1st alwayschild neglectchild abusepoetpoemprosepoetryJohn Harrisonbsafe1stalwaysthepoetjohn

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