JD Glasscock
Bio
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
Stories (29/0)
6 Poems from some of my books
Light is the ever birthed truth Poem by JD Glasscock Interwoven tilt of lips into upturned horizons, the hip man flips a coin while gypsy girls do thigh thrust shakes to the moon and an infant in the forest wails for nurturing....small men in rotting suits count green bills in the aftermath of self indulged boredom......she said in the wee hours of morning wisps, to hope and dream are the only steps to laughter......the hip man winks, the gypsy girls ethos mirth within the dance, the child gurgles bubbles in the turning of wails to twinkles finding eyes and the small men sneer as they continue counting, their world closing truth on their deteriorating frames.......all around the globe, wings are unfurling, spreading against the burgeoning dawn......laughter and hope are spinning threads forever renewing..
By JD Glasscock3 years ago in Poets
4 Poems and a song from some of my books
The Hunt to the Haunt of my Forever Song Poem by JD Glasscock Frisky in the bare full moon journey of eve's dark semblence....howls building up in the caverns of chests....My limbs lope the forest of black pitched ballads.....sunlight kept in coins, hidden in pockets seamless and secreted, held for moments where treachery and abandonment walk a fine line between delusional self immolation and the laziness of underachievement, when hope is a fading melody in a strong coursing wind...and I crawl and skip and wail into the heavy night....freedom....a jaundice joint of prayer in the echos of oblivion....and in the shadows of my shade women dance to the rhythms of fables, fairytales long ago forgotten and thrown away, tossed to the broken down railways of ghosts and failing priorities, moralities....to the worship of their own divinity, hunger, wants and bottomless aching of a love that was shifted to strange shapeless dreams in the hour of their desperate need.....their breasts shaking their hips and grace etched legs to the down beat of lute struck tonal haunts of immemorial conquest, their silhouettes a remembrence to the martyred acclimation of mothers and sisters and daughters.....to the tributes of forever divided statuesque sculptures carved in the visage of fathers and brothers and sons....these are my mates pen runed in fate....their choreographed sorrow to the hunt of my spiritual assassination....their strength my salvation.....their tireless chasing of perfection the reminder to my dereliction......to the cave drawn annals of my listless lollygagging of lollipop blues......who we choose a choice chosen by very few.......
By JD Glasscock3 years ago in Poets