Pages From John

Category: Poetry

  • Lead into Gold

    The great alchemical crossover

    A violent opening of the doors within

    I strip away all my love from my power

    Revoking, thus, my power I have given to my pain

    Seeing new truths of my becoming

    It is time for the priorities to be rearranged

    I give my power to my love

    And then my love to my pain

    For too long I was too proud to understand

    Unaware of the end goal it was aiming for

    All that sculpting and molding it orchestrated

    My thanks, for all it has done, goes to my pain

    Nonetheless, my love has taken the golden throne again

  • Hail Lucifer, the Light Bringer

    The Morning Star shining its rays upon our dawn

    A shapeshifter, a confusing trickster of endless traits

    Wonderful gifts he brought, that Promethean character

    Seemingly perfect in the opening chapters of the story

    But an Icarus he was and thus fell from his grace

    Cabanel knew this disappointed pride through vicious tears

    He descended into torment far behind his own gates

    But that need not be the end for the world of the spirit

    The deeper and darker the roots go down underground

    The brighter and more irradiant they can become up above

    But he betrayed us and stood between us and the light

    He tried to imprison us with the gifts that once moved us

    Can we overcome the truths that became hateful lies?

    Can we shift our teary eyes to noon’s strange prophecy?

    For Lucifer brought the light that would become our sun

  • A Sunny Day That Goes Too Long

    Beyond checkpoints behind other checkpoints

    Not too long after major winning lines

    The climbing flame can begin again

    As we hope for an illusory finishing point

    Otherwise on we go down that rocky road

    Understanding Elysium is not a place

    There are no true places after all

    Only being and nature agreeing

    So maybe if I rest too long in my momentary Zion

    It, too, becomes another treacherous trap

    Always leaving Babylon again and again

    As constant motion flows down the mountain

    Into basins of memory deposits

    And these battered and tired feet

    They surely find their way

    Having faith to always find their step

    Walking, walking, walking

    Until death rings my bell for rest

    Keeping movement to the unhearable beat

    Seeing that your tracks made a melodic street

  • Our Childhood Nation

    Waking eyes to a torrid desert land

    Exhaustive explanations and causes

    An adventure gone in practical sands

    Boring unprofound poetry losses

    No point to a life full of points

    Unless there’s a narrative mending joints

    Look to events untwirling before eyes

    Go back to a way of seeing once known

    One abandoned through a lie about lies

    More like a strange place, a forgotten home

    Clearing the air, it’s our childhood nation

    Riddled rhymes over imagination