Lycanthrope moon musings and more
Various poems from some of my books -- I have 16 books lol and 16 short films written and directed, awards etc...
A lycanthropic dirge of hunger and forest hunts
Almost nine years ago now the spirit of my journey was changed forever......I felt love when the words echoed from her tongue but I either didn't hear the hollowness in the timbre of her sound or chose to ignore it...either way in the end..it was the same...I was just so excited...so unbelievably happy...we had just found out that the heart of the soul in her womb had it's own beat....in my imagination..it would be a thumpin blues rock staccato....a groovin litany of poetical ramblings of love and joyous futures.....so in the next week when she told me she was going to visit her family in Canada I thought nothing of it...continued doing back flips off the wall of paradise....then a week passed...time strange in a translucent slowing of pavement and dream....and when her voice spit the words that would crumble my world...it seemed unreal....a horror...a movie ready to be given thumbs down bad moved to the back shelf of dust ridden cobweb obscurity..."Talking to my parents I have decided something. They want me to continue in their footsteps to a political future and they don't think you have a path that coincides with that...I mean your brilliantly talented but they think and I would have to agree that your never going to make it and you will probably be poor for the rest of your life. ANd... I...I deserve more.....better...so well...what I am trying to say....is..well...I aborted our child.....have a good life..." My spirit did a running sprint for a hole to climb itself into.....a vacant episode of reruns and repeats doing a pirrouette in the silver screen of my eyes, .....the phone fell.....creating a tap tap of plastic striking formica....my limbs leadened and flesh grew cold......arctic breath in the shade of my heart...spent night after night, month after month wrapped in sweat soaked covers...feverish skin, my sleep haunted by a child drifting...unwanted and vibrating shuddering wails to the cosmos....always out of my reach...always just out of a father's love.....A lone wolf I walk in guise since that day......keep a veritable fortress in the haven of my hovel......watch corners for ghosts of liars....count the amount of ticks of sand crawling across my flesh...and keep an eye on people's hands...where they are in proximity to my pockets....Howling my lupine moon strung along my striding hips I lope through the woods of cement.....fangs bared and ready.....forests of untrustworthy puppets trailing humanistic visage....I will not be the victim to another siren's haunt.....I will hunt.......I will survive....I will chew the bones of my dream and take down the meat of my aspirations....I will find myself in the accolades so callously called frivolous and unattainable.....and when my teeth have closed onto the flesh of my prey.....I will scream lycanthropic dirges into the deep recesses of night's dark ballad......and I shall fall to knees shedding the salt I have held in rememberence for my child drifting among the stars of could of beens...
Poem by JD Glasscock
When I see the scars in her eyes and on her flesh it tells me a story..one of cement and grenades and life.....tells me she's beautiful
A Two skip hustle in a smoke hazed bones play
Poem by JD Glasscock
I am feeling frisky and full of thought and energy....bouncing balls of fate off knees into aerial circles abounding my weave of dream........a woman's curves is what I see....a gambler's smirk and a roll of bones into the drop pit of a back alley hustle...but yet the tustle is a diadem of confusion....a meteoric climb of effervescent trips into a circle of intrusion into the culpability of morality skip stepping into a fulcrum of lucid infidelity..........I have made promises to noone...yet creation asks for a boon to the climb of my aspirations....deems...honor a task to fulfill for the given prize...and so lowly I say good bye to the meandering road of lust in a hotel room at three vibe......yet fulfillment in romance is not my bargain or my destiny when asking to shake worlds is my travesty and hunger of propriety......let it be so....my wings are jet set shade....and I have roads I need to travel and blistering streets to blaze.
Reflection in the paradox of choice and memory
Poem by JD Glasscock
The road behind me is strewn with potholes and melted asphalt...avenues leading to back alleys winding into dead ends, bridges rickety and swaying in a capriscious wind...women fallen by the way side singing laments about futures shattered in the cacophony of wasted ticks of sand and aspirations too grand to tie to a street poet's feet..bumbling, tripping over morals sometimes seen as too archaic to find success in their frail shadow......looking back, my hands weaving cave paintings of tradgedy and lopsided drunken falls, I see a myriad backlog of choices that could of been made different...could of been coerced into family, complacency, fancy cars and a wife demure and rift with boredom chewing holes in fate...my gaze flounders upon future paths and I see a burgeoning tirade of could of beens and what might bes and what ifs.......yet my eyes hold steel and resolution...hold faith and destitution....and my feet carry legs tired and bruised...travel with wings trailing mud and unused...and yet still a grin etches itself upon my flesh..my lucky coin catching sunlight woven through moonlight, tasting the churning of air as it's edge pushes wind..crooked teeth becoming a river traveling through the night...a slow drizzling rain echoing from low strung clouds and a weave that is threaded in the apologies of my mistakes...I am an absolute of bi polar certainty....a diadem of paradoxical mystery.....I am breath in the scars of my history...and onward my hips carry me....a cloaked rugged memory....forlorn, whimsical and chuckling at the inevitable sacrifice of tasting a dream...
About the Creator
JD Glasscock
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
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