J.D. Glasscock started as a slam poet on national teams in 1990. Written and Directed 16 Award winning short films...He also has 16 self published books of poetry, lyrics and film.
Owner of StormCrow Productions
Deep Groves Poem by jd glasscock counting moments...slips of tongue arcing breath.....trying to carve my way to discernment.. truth over flesh.........do any of the masks spinning love around my frame actually hold to this as hard edges....sincerity in the hip pockets of their cast lines....or is it all frail and broken carnival frivolities to pass the... ticking of second hands....what do you believe when duplicity seems to be the road to everything...Hope and gutter swell prayers in the curves they double dutch shuffle in the side periphery of my lone moon haunts is what sustains the theatrics of my belly crawl through the crumbled ruins of this archaic arch I find within the dazed hazed stumble I call life.....yet still....doubt knaws my chewed over bones......my ears tentative to the high ... stroke timbre of a lie playing hip holster to their verbage.....to their limbs in manic sultry shape......to the patterns of past mistakes......
Killing of star
Killing of a Star Lyrics by JD Glasscock I met a man named Star He had lights on him in the dark I should’ve known better then to get in his car
A Bloody Song
A Bloody Song A Short Film By JD Glasscock All Rights Reserved INT -- WAREHOUSE -- NIGHT A close up on the dial of a boom box, changing radio station from heavy rock, to pop, to heavy metal for a second to a blues/jazzy lounge song. Camera comes out to a guy starting to do a slow rhytm dance as he saunters over the table which has numerous tools upon, a wrench, screwdriver etc and leaning next to it, a chain saw. The man picks up various tools, weighing them, etc though doesnt touch chainsaw.
Moments in roads to articulation
Short Film -- A Moment (New 10-20-11) by Jd Glasscock on Thursday, October 20, 2011 at 11:50pm A Moment
New Age Desolation
New Age Desolation Poem by JD Glasscock Intent, regret, i am spent on a letter of remorse, a memorandom of understanding. Narcisistic, nepatistic self immolated absorption seems to be the diadem, the isometric of the dawning age. Let us dime drop respect and courtesy into a pit of irrelevance more important to skull fuck what we want out of the dribbling corpses of inconsequentials......step upon the flesh of humanistic limbs and spirits to garner accolades in the shortest, quickest no merit no work route our inept non existent attention span can skip slip us to. Its is a patriotic slam bam thank you mam schitzophrenic hodge podge of dodge the onus to choices, blame the voices on some other throat issuing warbling miscontent to the faults of others in their inconspicuous game of someone else's name to gather responsibility of actions shooting off your hip shakes.....everyone else's fault in this ass backwards gestault of make and break, take all you see with no consequence to the roads rambling and hammer fisting over other's dreams.....cause what does it matter if we get what we need.....fuck everyone else's hopes and heartaches as long as in the end our bank accounts rise on tides as high as red rope hollywood carpet rides....Hell if our leader's are showing on CNN backwash reports that greed is the seed we should all dream then why not gather our sheep sleep mental run in place epilepsy and join the revolution.....the deevolution of who has the biggest sword makes the rules......shin digs what's cool, bump grinds the criteria of the school....but even as my tongue edge crumbles these cranium dissertations there are a few who hold true to the cavern cave crawls of a good heart bruiser brawl into the do what's right, toil in the hard sweat work of a hard day's night and be a light to the shades we made in this mud spit pit we create.....but they are ostracized for such outlooks, made the but end of a joker's joke in the broken spokes of today's age, everyone with a word about how outdated such honor is in the corner lit lip of rage that carves tomorrow's stage play......but in the end of this grave paved catalyst of inevitable change, we must all see, our choices, actions, avenues we trail blaze through have a fulcrum of temptous back lash, karmic cause and effect hand in hand cosmic clash and that all that we put out, double fold returns in cat o nine tail magnifold long ago told upheaval of never ending come uppance of crack the world immoralistic riven of misery and emptied out shells of our own artistically autisically self regurgitated hells of hollow smiles and cavernous deflated caterwhauls labeled laughs with no real humour in their grasp....and it is our own future we canibilistic carnivore down our gullets as we think to jump hump accolades and who's who in the game.....while the concrete of our stepping feet is the disolution of all we reap and roll out the costume parodies of mirror cracked reflective creeps deep in our rotting meat.......so as i speak, listen.....for the days dwindle, the chances to find kind reservoirs of saliable solutions to the future cobblestone's of our creation are now few and far between and soon to be gone and just a toothpick in death's teeth.........so as we fall and our wings spread to catch it all be sure they are not just cracked and hollow bones broken on the road........for when next you hit the lick of the trip it could be your own blood you slip upon...could be the roundtable return as we watch the world burn.....
Awakening Nights -- Script to my award nominated short film
Awakening Nights TV Teaser Pilot Part 2 for Celestial Moon By JD Glasscock All Rights Reserved 2016 INTRO -- VO during video of pouring rain/Storm
Interlude of a blues mood
Interludes of a blues mood rolling numerical boxes of prophecy in the shape of bones to the wherewithal of fate synchpated within tones.....got dribbles of drunken blues trickling back of throat......and sculptures of romantic interlude writing what was wrote......my desert is parched...and I got tha attributes of texan stones with which to impart........Got down home jazz melodies dropping the hammer to the anvil of my anxieties....
Courage in the Teeth of Death
Greek Muse poem by jd glasscock in moments, in slips of sand burned sharp, fear was a beast cutting bone.......heavy, weighted, breaking limbs and courage, heart losing beats, but her eyes, her eyes, signs, rhythms tapping veins, so beautiful.....warm........wondrous, .her arms, haven, thighs, home.......in her step, fear lost teeth, hunger, in her soul, there was only love