Poetry Blog by John G.Hall

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Janet on Blue Angel (Tue, 4 Aug 2009 11:41 am)

Janet on The Blue Haired Girl & The Smooth Coated Tiger (Tue, 4 Aug 2009 11:31 am)

Cynthia Buell Thomas on Blue Angel (Tue, 4 Aug 2009 11:17 am)

clarissa mckone on Inside out (Wed, 6 May 2009 02:23 am)

Steve OConnor on John G.Hall News (Tue, 2 Dec 2008 12:32 pm)

Pete Crompton on Taste of Human (Sat, 15 Nov 2008 12:26 pm)

darren thomas on Nature kills baby (a poem for All Hallows) (Wed, 29 Oct 2008 09:54 am)

The Blue Haired Girl & The Smooth Coated Tiger

The Blue Haired Girl & The Smooth Coated Tiger

You are carefully unfolded out from yourself
the blue haired girl with a sparkler for a tongue,

you are sprawled out beneath the full moon
the smooth coated Tiger with a roaring voice.

These are merely the two sides of the blue you
opened before me, but my magic is too weak
my skin too precious, I must close you up and

practice harder poetry, before I...

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Septembers Birth

Septembers birth

Bleeding whooping surfers shoot the blue tubes
towards the world, where fluffy dice chromosomes
throw the saints five and the killers two.The crash
of falling skin is whaled from birth and filled with bone.
Septembers heat turned to boil, baby being cooked
in life-blood.This time there is no luck needed, only you.


John.G.Hall©2009

*for an Irish Mother

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Blue Angel

Blue Angel

her undeclared war raged under
her hundred thousand battle scars
making her peace a guilty place

her million guns back fired all at once her love murdered
by the magic bullets of sacred money his heart discounted
by a capitalist roulette wheel spinning through his blood

she is so powerful she shakes like a steam engine
inside the mutating gene of a tiger moth’s antenna
her double helix strands...

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Unbearable

entry picture
 Unbearable



the unbearable

poverty between

our quick spending

of muscle definition

and emotional IQ

never prepares us

for the exit strategy

of the particular

nervous vibration

of human life time,


the crash of days

leaves us wreckage

by the soul side,

open books dog eared,

spines cracked , torn

sleeves spilling our

peaceful doves,


but still we rubber neck

and note pains eviden...

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Inside out

entry picture
Inside out


Some are

glad to be

flesh-land

natives,

defending

borders

of dermis,

against all

penetration,

entrenched

Bardo ghosts,

they make war

to liberate them

selves from sense,

are fabled in fact.


And head in sand

they learn to grin

and bare horror,

denying change

while changed

beyond measure.


Others find liberation

breaking out of mind,

being species beings,

proud t...

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John G.Hall News


The Covert Poetics Journal in the United States have decided to nominate John G.Hall & S.A. Griffin for a Pushcart Prize.The Pushcart Prize - Best of the Small Presses series, published every year since 1976, is the most honored literary project in America.

Writers previously nominated incude Raymond Carver,Andrei Codrescu,Billy Collins,John Irving,Stephen Dunn,Ha Jin, Philip Levine, Rick Mood...

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Love Interrupted

Love interrupted


Eternal Puck from a neon wood, preternatural blue agate eyes,
she speaks with her heart in her mouth, her body is a tuning fork
for her universe of words, mother mouthed, every sound works,
a soft lightening rod for the storm of everyones hard won glory,
her language has its own perfume, of talcum and pink lady apple.

Liquid looks from a dry place, a song bird in the trees of Dachau,
l...

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Taste of Human

Taste of Human

The child is
human sushi,

the adult
hard boiled,

the old one
blanched,

free from
all taste.

All that is
left to us,

is our
liquor,

and
the final
straw.

Suck
baby
suck !

Before
the bloods
gravity
falls.

Leaving
all our days
tainted
by regrets,

aftertaste is
after thought
after all.


John.G.Hall

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Some Words

Some Words

Some words are placed for audience
the gravestone, the eviction notice.
The competition winning anthology
of prescription, recipe and warning.

Some words are placed for effect
the 'fuck you' tattoo, the Oxfam badge.
The affirmation of self-deluded nihilism
of manifesto, ego and sex less sex.

Some words are placed for safe-keeping
the priests forgiveness, the cops note-book.
The forgotten slip of t...

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Consequences

Consequences


my bubble keeps bursting me out
a million mistakes made of hopes,

meaning no harm by breaking bones
tumbling down my heart lands wrong
side up in your sweet marbled arms
Cleopatra's eyes flash looks at mars,

missy Buddha figures out eternity
on the back of one minute of clarity,

weather sweeps through the trees
my monkey hangs on even tighter
down town you sit in all the empty
places reserved for...

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Life's what they made it

 

Life's what they made it


I feel like I'm sliding
into the eye of a needle,

walking down market street
naked as a featherless jay bird

realizing life's not what you make it
it's something somebody else made,

out of your hang ups and loose ends
a needle lost in a world of haystack

I feel like I'm swimming towards the egg
a lonely wriggle in the cosmic snake race,

one more forked tongue in Eve's angelic ...

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Heart for arts sake

Heart for arts sake.


Demerara sugar bags
in a white sugar bowl,

a free paper napkin pre
folded by unseen hands

glares at me in the sunlight.

Two thirds of a glass
wet lipped with coke

and ice, a books index
of titles pinned open by

a thumb pressed between
pages and a finger placed

on a badly cracked spine.

So now my black writing sits
uncomfortably on ruled lines,

and the sound of jazz
is scratching at my head,

it...

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Safe lips end this history

safe lips end this history

above the toaster
a life worthwhile
as any cosmos
pops up ordinary,

while clowns trawled
for sex, rain and snow
fell into the sunset,

I've waited and such
for a surge of sympathy,

it was like juggling apples
on the end of your tongue
or fishing a hover of trout,

it was like falling in love
with too much of yourself or
holding to reactionary hopes,

hands on the worlds butt
feeling the arm...

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Cement Poem 7

Cement Poem 7

I am swaggering silently through my own minutia
I am the salt and vinegar queen, the cold chip king
I am the Columbus of the morning madras lands
I am last night's fry-up clinging to the brain pan.

I am the preference of all friendships to fly apart
I am the rattle of a cola can's empty low-cal soul
I am the lonely hangman's ropeless scaffolding
I am tearing up the plan in favour of the gu...

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Sing the song of all

Sing the song of all

 

When the biopsy comes back

I can't help but think

where the fuck is Spiderman

when you really need him?

 

Where is that Buddha boy

when loneliness strangles you

and the street poets sell out

for a hand full of applause?


When the Super Ego comes dancing

beside itself with sweet reflections, 

where is the Woody Guthrie man

to sing the blues to our glories?

...

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Nature kills baby (a poem for All Hallows)

Nature kills baby (a poem for All Hallows)



our love wore a silencer

but it still fired a soul,


you carried

my baby like

a bullet baby,



then the devil in the detail

pulled apart DNA's angel hair,


as cells unraveled

as the blood tripped,


as birthday candle

turned back to bee,


as bone crumbled chalk

into the mother board,


as the tears grew hard

in the corners of our eyes

I snuggled you in my arms

and you sang me too ...

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