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.......

Death, Doors & Love

Poem by JD Glasscock

Silly shuffles along the creases of a smile....joy is a coin tossing off arthritic hands in the hope of a tomorrow expelling breath in these tumultous lands, it is a narrowing of eyes and a spark of spirit in jubilation of revelry in boundless arcs of dreaming one's fate........in knowing our path is a choice of foot finding purchase in the actions of revelation within one's pursuit of alchemy, in the catalytic transition into what one has aspired since birth from womb......since Creation laid it's scar worn hands upon the flesh you ride in thermal translocation into the ever ever of the loom's profound imprint upon your luminescent uplifting into all you hold to breast and chest and mind and shine in the surcease movement of incindiery blandishments in the cave crawl traipse of your spiraling ascent into all you believe to tread......it is a warm love in an old book you have read and bookmarked in the passage of your truth to the eternal embers charcoaled in the firmament of your burgeoning lullaby......into the symphonic rendering of your unique artistry in the skein of this world you are forever brush painting your threads upon.........the door is your death and first breath and cosmic jest to the byways of crossroads in the test that shall reap your rest in the fluttering angelic pursuance of all the gifts you were tokened to change what has been wrought, to buy back what has been bought.....to show humanity still has a kernal of the divine within it's corrupted flesh, and that we, as a people, can sculpt still, can remake that which was lost so long ago, that honor and respect and humility and courage and benevolance are still striations within our form, within our cognizance, within our butterfly break into dawn's beautific hello..........Love to love as love is loved...

Hills n Pills

Poem by JD Glasscock

the hills loom haunted eyes......a myriad of paths dry humping eternity in an ever spiraling loop of divinity, a lopsided grin....a come hither smirk and wink......a loner's cove in the break of waves back spinning lucidity in a broken down poor man's shade, and the way her hips told a story made you lip tongue hunger crave all the lullabies hidden in the nectar she gave to very few,,,,,,,the curves expounding on truths, on forgotten moments of lap it up, shimmy shake, pound the thighs, ass clenched thrust of tears you have bottled, saved....in the sorrow you have collected in the small recesses of starved spirit, in the caresses too few and far between, in the warmth of arms covering fragility in breaths that never exhaled, in the slips of gaze that never latched on to anything worth something, worth anything or at least a moment of jack in a shot.....and the skin carved new scars and crayon drawn wrinkles and the bending of time's immovable pondering has carved chains upon the now too slow steps of vacant hills and popping pills and the cracked glass of reflection that appears all too close to home......we are minutia in the teeth of forevermore.....

Chess is a gentleman's game

Poem by JD Glasscock

Pawns move forward ignorant to their sacrifical nature, sending prayers to a God who hides in corporate suit, Bishops move at angles, shouting a litany of justifications and falsity laden in golden idols, a Knight moves in strong shifts of road, spouting the words home and country with promises of reward and opportunities and elevation of status,, rooks are the accountants moving vertically and horizontally in straight lines, drawing ledgers of lives vs the cost of profit while the Queen throws herself across the board in whims and back alleys carving out moments where money can be made on the backs of infidels and non believers and tax havens while the king moves not at all, counting piles of glittering jewels and silver watching over a field of butchery and blood........tomorrow is too far away to him, today is a good day to make a buck......

The Devil's got a wicked smile

Lyrics by JD Glasscock

You want to take a bet with the devil

and hope it turns out aces

You think all of life is a revel

and you try to slip between spaces

But the only prize you find on the backside of time

is empty souls and empty places

dried up hearts and never ending races

where short cuts become dead ends

and your all alone, no friends

counting green bills on slippery hills

driving fast cars to unsavory bars

strangers in sheets with no real heat

everything tasting

ash and spoiled meat

And a little late for a prayer to lift off tongue

too many days taking

with nowhere left to run

and you remember her smile, the one

the day she left and warned you to lift your

head to the sun

to do the right thing instead of the easy thing

to earn what you get instead of hustling for rent

to treasure the word "love" and all that means

instead of "money" and the dry humping of greed

You want to take a bet with the devil

and hope it turns out aces

You think all of life is a revel

and you try to slip between spaces

More often then not in the immoral byways

the bones come up snake eyes,

old men in caves laughing to folly and

shooting from the hip

saying goodbye

and your a ghost of what was once a good man.

God used to have a plan,

till you decided the Devil was a rhoulette wheel you could spin and win..