Weather or Not

Neptune

Most nights I couldn’t find peace,

I wondered if it was the PTSD, or if 

this Neptune had lost his dream.

Was it stuck in the cosmos unable

to reach the confines of a mind

too crowded of dismay and grief?

I almost believed so, but my soul 

only deepened to keep me whole

just as the shadow beside me.

Just as my soldiers in arm’s reach,

camouflaged, but never hiding 

from chaos, or presumed defeat.

Like Jupiter once told me, “Keep your

head from your feet, and your head

above your heart, just be.”

Today it is received, not to mention

poetry increasing my spirituality

— a reverie to my muse.

How pleasant is she for keeping me 

so heavenly attuned, my celestial

ooh, I can’t see you but I do feel y...

Mí Ethereal Ubiety

I am a holder of your mystery 

like Olokun, 

a diver into your emotional

conglomerates like a Pisces. 

Do tell me your Zodiac ID.

For I am respectful, and gentle,

a deep connection to your 

mental and physical utters,

bold like my ancestral mother,

gold that won’t always luster.

I am a hard lover, like sacrificing

my sights for the stars to still 

remain vital where ever you are.

And no I’m not perfect, as I may be as

maimed as the moon, forever scared.

You are close but come closer;

my skin needs to feel your

celestial breath fall on me, 

while I speak on in hopes that you 

...

Tattered Fruit (Free Style)

Tattered fruit,

black and blue,

abused,

rediculed

Tatter the fruit;

shame on you

for the same monsoon,

you’ve been a fool

You’ve been a bull,

un-beneficial,

pitiful,

and unequivocal,

to what she needs,

what she dreams,

you’re just a failure to see,

and an absence to lead.

Let her find her King

—JG

Weather or Not

My mind is flacking,

thoughts heavy on my shoulder.

The weight is bearing,

and my posture is leaning over.

I'm bent on the meaning of this,

teetering trying to stay straight.

I haven't been right since you left, 

and you weren't wrong not to stay.

You deserved better, not my cloud

hanging over your pleasant weather.

Not my angst that came with it, 

taking the flight from your feather.

—JG

Menace to Society

Meet the eyes of a monster,

chained,

sponsored by the state

meant to be painted pretty.

Sitting colored like the sun,

days soon to be numbered

like his new ensemble,

guilty before proven innocent.

Meet the eyes of a monster,

unashamed, who pays homage

to being dishonest

because the devil is his truth.

Sitting colored like embers,

a blazing fire beneath the cold stare

with malice against the cleared air,

guilty of demeaning you too.

—JG

Faded Bouquet

Screams with no voice,

mousey,

hiding out inside of a dark space.

Skittish with no comfort,

kittenish, pupils wide

pulling her necklace.

Meanwhile he’s still reckless,

a bandit, coon eyed,

not welcomed in their place.

Flourishing with no grace,

withering, a faded bouquet

without a vow to replicate.

—JG

Decaying Reactions

News flash, but before reading it

I know it’s concerning a mother,

a father, or even a young kid.

Killer made famous, those living slow

make it to the finish line faster than

the rabbit ever did.

It’s ludicrous for any man born to be

King throw down his crown for a clown

hat; damn all of you jesters!

Damn all of them who make gestures

in front of evil thoughts, standing

behind reasons that only fester.

- G

Falling-Out

Doors slammed shut,
a voice raised in decibel,
“You hit me!”, she screamed,
and vanished over the threshold.

He watched lowly from the street
as her image lost all focus,
and pictured his world without her
in front of his camera’s lens.

Incoming calls rang,
but none he wanted to answer;
not adding up to the digits
equating the label he longed for.

He tried many times to reach out,
but he was blocked, forbidden,
like an evil New Orleans entity -
a disgrace after heartbreak.

Months went by in his loneliness,
eye’s swollen after fighting with tears,
wearing his own abuse, but still,
discounting the wrong he’d done.

Down to his last ounce of pride
he bellowed out, “I’m sorry!”, but,
was it an apology to himself, or,
was it that he’d wished she heard it?

Tanka Poem - Locoemotion

Poetry in motion,
leaving the mind’s temporal
like a moving freight;
emotions riding aboard,
some delayed, others on time.

- Jg
 

For Better or Worse

Diamonds fashioned under a rainbow
Water dripping on a manicured hand
Feelings inscribed inside vows
No bending, no breaking, no pressure

Arguments pointing fingers around
Clocks ticking in anxiety needing time
Tears producing regretful apologies
No retreat, no regress, no spite

Memories growing through hard roads
Late nights with lullabies crying loudly
Idle hours restless exercising worry 
No pain, no gain, no intermission

- Jg