John McKinley Pride Jr. Poetry & Art

I have been a little busy as of late; but I will be having holiday soon and will have time to get out some more poetry that I have not been able to post. Over time we all have a note pad that we feel up and never get to share this work with others well I will be doing this soon. I have a gob of new material ready to post but have not had the time so please stay posted. I hope every one is having a wonderful Thanksgiving and sharing and loving others. God Bless John M. Pride Jr.

This will be the 15th book I have had the honer in been a part of with Pattimari Sheets-Diamond and company it has been such a pleasure to be a part of such a wonderful experience and it just keeps on getting better.My Poems in this book "This Heart Bleeds Forever" & “Let Me go Love”. Pattimari Sheets has a number of great books and has helped many people. Take a look and see for your self

My love poems have never been to strong or even well done but I wanted to take a shot at it again when a friend of mine asked for one for her book I gave it a shot and this is what I came up with I hope some one likes it. All my best and thanks to who ever takes the time to read it. “This Heart Bleeds Forever” This love bleeds from me. This heart is forever home to you. For you it is one; Its chambers combined; Veins entwined; wrapped up in you I breathe you in never to exhale. You fill my heart with fire. You take away my fear. You fill me with everlasting life. You renew the youth within me. You are my truth and my faith when I have nothing to say. You pass through me re-rooting my soul with every touch of your hands. I am never whole when you are missing from this puzzled life I live. Stay close to me; be here with me in this moment for every heart beat within me says your name. This heart bleeds forever and bleeds forever you. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 10/31/11

This is an Idea that I got from an old Bob Dylan concert poster. I have not done Gouache for very long and this is only my second try at it but I really am enjoying it.

This will be the 14th book I have had the honer in been a part of with Pattimari Sheets-Diamond and company it has been such a pleasure to be a part of such a wonderful experience. My Poems in "Desirea" 1. "The Day the Sea Swallowed the Sun", 2. “The Wolf’s Clothing” (How does Pan Ware you?), 3. “Hands Aflame”, 4. “Grey Matter” http://www.lulu.com/product/hardcover/desirea/17148327?showPreview

“Hands Aflame” (Revised) With my hands aflame, I push you away. You stand red faced, like a tyrant in shame caught in your acts. Bring your echo loud and clear. I push you away with my hands aflame; they have never burnt the same. You fear me because you know me; your echo stays loud and clear, Repeating your hiding fear that’s there inside of you. There is a fire that burns within my hands, and it consumes the air around me the same today as yesterday. My hands, charcoal black, smoldering and burning, Are a bright red like a black smith’s fire. I light the night with sparks clanging from my very heart that molds the fighter in me. There is no water that can cool this heart. There is no water that can put out this flame. It has become eternity and it has become golden. My hands aflame, I will push you away and you will see a different light in me. By John McKinley Pride Jr 8/8/11

“Grey Matter” This evil crosses your mind and twists your spine. Creates a demon in you; Creates a hate in you; Creates a part of you. A part of you lost; A part of you gained; A part of you that you no longer can ignore. No longer able to close your eyes to it. This evil crosses you. Crosses you out; Points you out; Breaths you in and exhales you out. This evil crosses your mind more than one time past the grey matter. Building up neurons of criminal hypocrisy. Unwinds, unwounds, uncoils from around your brain. Sinks deep within you; sinks past your gyrus, and into your sulcus; to react or not react has become your final deepest thought. This evil crosses your mind but you pass on it one more time. By John McKinley Pride Jr 8/18/11

“Let Me go Love” Please don’t cry to me love. Please don’t lie to me love. You know I must leave. You know I must go away. If I don’t go away, they will surly hang me high and then swing me low. They will put me six feet closer to hell I know. So please don’t cry to me love. You know I must go now. I love you so; I never wanted to let you go. Give a kiss to our boy for me. Tell my mother to not worry so. This has to be; it is what it is, and I have done what I must. Bleak as it seems. I will love you all my days. So, please don’t cry my love. My heart is too weak to let you go, and if I see tears I will never go. So don’t lie to me love. Just let me go love; just let me go. By John McKinley Pride Jr 8/8/11

“Hands Aflame” With my hands aflame I push you A way You stand red faced; like a tyrant in shame caught in your acts. Bring your echo loud and clear I push you away with my hands aflame; they have never burnt the same. You fear me because you know me; your echo stays loud and clear Repeating your hiding fear that’s there inside of you. There is a fire that burns with in my hands and it consumes the air around me the same today as yesterday. My hands a charcoal black smoldering and burning Bright red like a black smith’s fire I light the night with sparks clanging from my very heart that molds the fighter in me. There is no water that can cool this heart There is no water that can put out this flame It has become eternity and it has become golden My hands aflame I will push you away and you will see a different light in me. By John McKinley Pride Jr 8/8/11

This is my first work in paint; I have never really painted before so it's a whole new world for me. I love how paint is forgiving in so many ways and it moves so lovely off the brush and mixes like magic. I can work on one piece for like a month and it will change every day. This painting is also featured on the front cover and inside of a book sold on LuLu.com called "Secrets Revealed in Lunchbox of Memories" By Pattimari Sheets-Diamond and Charlotte Huston-Johnson in 2011. Category PaintingMedium Acrylic Size 16 x 12 in Style Abstract Subject Pop Culture January 8, 2011

One of my most favorite Bowie albums that I think has always been lost between all of his other work (the reason for face been gone). DrawingMedium Oil Pastel Size 17 x 14 inStyle Pop Art Subject People Created March 29, 2011

Elijah (Elijah's Comet)I named this painting after my son because it reminded me of him so full of life and color. My wife thought it looked like a comet which even gives more of a reason to remind me of my son because every thing he does is so up in the air and every thing must be done fast. So I hope you love this painting just as much as I love it. Gouache Painting:

I called this silly painting "Three is a crowd" which is a feeling I get when in big crowds or really busy places. I am sure there is many other paintings with the same name but I really could not think of a better way to get the point across. Painting Medium: Acrylic Size 20 x 16 in Style: Pop Art Subject: Humor Created: June 19, 2011

"Twisted" a Gouache painting I am working on this is just the start of it.I can not wait to put some Gouache paint on this one and see what colors do best to bring it alive.

"Crying like a fire in sun" a Gouache painting I am working on this is just the start of it.I can not wait to put some Gouache paint on this one and see what colors do best to bring it alive.

"The Angel and The Moon" a Gouache painting I am working on this is just the start of it.I can not wait to put some Gouache paint on this one and see what colors do best to bring it alive.

Sorry I will have some more poetry up soon. I hope when I go on some well deserved time off I will have some time to get my act together. Thank you an I hope every one is having a wonderful Summer.

Lost are we amongst the multitude of roaming souls and broken hearts. Searching ghosts are we pondering the graveyards of our past glory years Broken are we searching for someone to mend it like a hermetic peace of machinery What are we to become but dust and granulated feelings of anther's lust for power. Like a traumatized victim; left in the middle of the road of a population overload. Have I tried hard enough? Have I giving the blood? Have I giving the sweat? Have I giving the tears? No, I have had them scraped from the slate of my very being. Ripped off my skin like badges of merit that will never leave my mind; it only scars my pride and chains down my spirit. You've burned it all down; all that I was and what I left behind in hope that you would fallow. But it was not enough; it was never enough put this on my tombstone and never forget how I never forgot about you and the pain I felt in my overworked hands was callused over with the love I had for you. By John McKinley

“The Warehouse” Here I remain Forgotten by the world Broken windows have released my soul My doors no longer open Chained heavily with no thought of future purpose I can still hear it inside me A humming like worker bees The cling clanging of Metal, forklifts and alive with flickering florescent love inside. By John McKinley Pride Jr 5/10/11

“The Lost” We feel lost I feel lost To be lost To never be found To be loved To never be found To never be loved To never be loved by another Confessors of the heart To feel blood flow freely again The lost feel nothing? The lost are lost cause they feel nothing? Am I a fool? If there be a heart beat in the lost; then they surely feel and if they feel; we can find them again; find them again with in the walls of a broken heart. Reaching out our hands saying we can love again. By John McKinley Pride Jr 12/30/10

“The Wolf’s Clothing” The wolf dresses in sheep’s clothing. The lawyer dresses like a shark. The government dresses like our big brother. Teachers dress like small gods and teen idols. Parents dress like their children and fear about how they will grow. Little girls dress like women and little boys dress like thugs. The media dresses like your friend till they find the rules they can bend. Businesses dress up like shiny new things to get you to buy them a wedding ring. We dress as we are told and never change a thing. By John McKinley Pride Jr 6/2/11

(This was a short poem made put together for a friends children's book that they are doing) Feathers light and dark, meshed together like night and day. Wings flutter and splash landing in a quiet lucidity upon golden ripples of liquidized glitter; like stars spreading in the sky on a cold crisp morn. The sun peeks over the hills welcoming warm delight to push the dark away and welcome a beautiful day. The trees sway back and forth like a giant church choir; with a slow breeze whistling through each branch that sings the song of a new day. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 5/24/11

There is this step we all must take to relies the truth; like a stair case leading to the sun in a tunnel of spinning questions. We are not slowing and our mind keeps flowing with indecision of rime who to befriend and believe in. It is a crime to leave it all locked up inside your head peeking out through the cracks of your brain. Yes there will be many in doubt and there will be many who will keep you down. If you look around you will find your rebirth in others you do not know. Those who flow like you Those who know who you are and believe in you. So do not slip up and tare apart your staircase board by board until you reach the top and touch the sun. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 5/6/11

"My Addiction to Conviction" Conviction has become my addiction and my addiction has become me; I can not lie or steal. Feel this love inside of me is it ok? What have we learned so far and how have we gone from here? Must I think of these things and is it ok? Where does the heart fall and how big of a hole is left if it is taking from us? If we fall how deep is it from here where it seems like hell has frozen over; would you spit in my face? I guess we will find out; push your hand towards mine and I will see the look upon your face. Be it ice or fire I will love you without end; I will always be here for you but I can not lie for you forever. Oh what to do? When you have some type of pain everyday in your mind; a constant tragic life were magic becomes your night. To have and hold a solid foundation just to let it fall into a puzzle of problems on your desk of questions not yet answered it never seems to put it's self together. You are always missing a piece and if you

I stood and watched as the sea swallowed the sun. My spirit sunk deep into sorrow. My bones felt light and hallow, my eyes weeping in pure sadness. My mouth was open in awe. Defenseless I felt clenching the skin of my arms in torment hoping to see the sun rise again. All I could do was stand there; all I could do was watch. I could not scream out for at the moment my voice was lost. I felt frozen in time for that moment of what felt like an eternity in someone else’s nightmare. I told myself to turn away but I could not; there was a hope in me that it would all be just an illusion. My mind was lost in the moment and not able to grasp the reality of what I was seeing. I thought to myself in disbelief, “Was this possible?” The sea creeping up across the sun diming its shimmering light, Diming its hope, Diming its love, Diming its life, Taking precious souls into its depths of unknown blackness, swelling and growing like a diseased madness. The sun bare with nothing left, leaving the bold

A new spoken word poem on my Youtube account at riverboatsong. "I Walk With the Zebra" Why can't life be seen as the way we see the zebra? Black and white and you know what you have in front of you; it's not a horse and you already know that. It does not lie to you and it does not try to be what it is not; between the black lines are white lines and between the white lines are black lines. There they are in front of you; it looks like a horse, it runs like a horse and it lives in herds like a horse. Yet it is not a horse; it does not lie to you, you see the truth it's there in front of you it does not hide facts. Here I am in front of you; you see my white lies and you see the black of my demise. I do not travel in herds; I can do all my miss leadings on my own. So as you can see there are fine lines to read between just the printings on the wall to tell you that it is all over. Like tattooed zebras we slurry our lies on our skin and strut as no one knows nothing

Art Work "Jean Genie" By John McKinley Pride Jr "A Moment Lost but not Forgotten" There are silent words that pass from each glance back and forth; a second look, a third to see if it is real and not just a mistaking graze upon the very tips of your hormones. Right there, right then and there you realize it is not a mistake; that the very thing you hoped for was true and there been not just a glance but like windows open for a peeping tom you stare into each other seeing a second, seeing a moment and seeing an infinitesimally of lust. Then some where in the back ground a glass drops to the floor crashing, breaking the strong hold upon the eyes. The moment lost, never talked about, never shared and never acted out again; just a glance that never leaves the memory. Just an amazing moment that is frozen in time wondering the outskirts of the mind and never leaving the dreams that now destroy your sleep. You think to your self if I could just get one more chance to gaze

A new spoken word poem up and going at my Youtube account at "riverboatsong" "Somewhere Between the Pages and the Words I Fell in Love" I have been here before Somewhere between the paper and the pen, Between the sentences and the paragraphs, Between the dotting of the i's and the crossing of the t's, Between the cousins of the G and the Q. Somewhere between the empty pages, words will start to appear and flow like a wonder in love with expressing the scribbles I compress upon this paper of a pad forgotten. Now remembering with every loop and line what we fell in love with as a child; somewhere between the silver chair and Max the "Wild Thing King". I fell in love with the words of others; somewhere between the numbers of fifteen and thirty-two I found a frost upon the pages of an old poetry book. Melting upon the tips of my fingers; outlining the very soul of my finger prints slowly drip, drip, and dripping down the side of my pen; roll, roll, and

A new spoken word poem I have up at my youtube acount come let me know what you think "If You're Head Should Explode" For these are the days we see, in blue white lights of tattered silver steeds and dead men talking. Upon the sea, across this desert night this fire burns for you; yet you can not hear the flames of my lust rising. Take forth your own youth and your own broken heart and let it lie still for what you know of love will never reach you. Still the clouds may stay in your eyes, like a painting in Mozart's dreams of old times, they have shattered as I dream of new blood like youth lost in the pictures of our past. Gray has become a friend of mine and a two wheeled steed glides me to my place of rest. John McKinley Pride Jr. 4/12/97

This is one of my poems put to spoken word please let me know what you think and thanks so much. “The Chambers” To be empty is one thing To feel empty is on going What can fill this emptiness? If anything; I have learned nothing can Everything is but filler Everything is like a mask To hide the truth; what we could become is just faded with Every aged year that cripples us. Youth is wasted on the youth Who do not relies that there time is now The heart constantly changes and divides into chambers Splits in two and is nothing like the brain It some how forgets wrongs to where the brain will not let you forget Will not let you forget what you are To stay I this mind bog of unforgiving let downs Where do you put this emptiness? You can not put it anywhere It stays empty It stays an abyss of loneliness Trying to keep your head afloat While others float on Has it grabbed your attention yet? Have you seen what avoids the eye of the living? What lights the dark hallways and darkens the corn

A Spoken Word Poem up and going; You can find me on youtube under the name "riverboatsong" “I Feel Nothing but Tears Fall” Darkened Hurst I know where you are going I know where you have been I know what you carry and I thank God that I am not them Your window dark as night Chrome shiny and bright Rolling along the street What a blight sight I fight back the tears but it’s just no use Like a fuse inside my heart has burnt out These feelings will not flee me These feelings I must not refuse These feelings I must never lose It is not you I fear or your black glossy coat I see my self in It is not your friend death that drives you or the reaper that fallows close behind you It’s the widow I feel for It’s the mother and father I feel for It’s the sons and daughters I feel for I do not fear you or the day my empty body is laid abroad in you. By John McKinley Pride Jr 1/31/11

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A new spoken word poem I have uploaded on my Youtube account under the name "riverboatsong" thanks and if you can I hope you enjoy it. "The Ramblings of a Dreamer" My ramblings seem to fade on paper and the lines seem to get thinner between each thought I have. Oh just another note-book of daydreams that will sit in my closet forever. Just another poem that will never be read by another’s eyes; the ink that powers my fairy tale dreams appear to run out from time to time. Maybe just maybe it is my heart that is dying out and not my mind. If I have no heart when I scribble a rhyme or two I will lose color and fade away as easy as you the one who has no dreams at all. By John McKinley Pride Jr 11/25/07

A Spoken Word Poem that I have up on my Youtube Channel under the name riverboatsong. Feel free and take a look. “Between Worlds” Flash forward and come back to your self The time with in the numbers in your hands To choose and pluck destinations unknown Love has grown and love has been lost Between the hands of certainty Death fallows behind step for step through the doors of secrecy Time stands motionless Time fly’s by Time is yours beyond all time Doorways open and close Close and then open Victorian dreams at there end To see the overly morel world that has long past Truly this is were it all begins Begins this story Begins this wonder Begins the clocks of time So the pendulum swings more then once And the bells are ringing loud in your ears Which door will be your last and where do you start over from here? Between love you must stay Between death you must run Between time you must push on Between these worlds you do not know Between worlds you must go Between worlds you mu

New Spoken Word Poem "The Grain" Is there a grain to life? A path we should fallow to make this life easer; a jagged sharpness that is to go on for days then months. A maze of what ifs and maybe I should haves; to go against the grain that is my question. Where do the guessing games stop? Or do we just keep going hoping we make all the right choices when we are pressured in to them. What corners should we not back in to? What skeleton should we pick to let out of our closets for others to pull them apart by there limbs. At least leave my ribs so my heart is not taken from me. By John McKinley Pride Jr 3/17/09

Is there a grain to life? A path we should fallow to make this life easer; a jagged sharpness that is to go on for days then months. A maze of what ifs and maybe I should haves; to go against the grain that is my question. Where do the guessing games stop? Or do we just keep going hoping we make all the right choices when we are pressured in to them. What corners should we not back in to? What skeleton should we pick to let out of our closets for others to pull them apart by there limbs. At least leave my ribs so my heart is not taken from me. By John McKinley Pride Jr 3/17/09

A spoken word poem “I Look Back Not Wanting” Is it a crime to cheat death? To defy a way out of life’s end To see the cloak of death creeping Sweeping over my body in darkness Only to watch it gracefully hover over my head Grazing the end of my nose Pulling my lashes to open my eyes And seeing the darkness no more I look back not wanting But wondering why it did not Choose me this time Why for a moment I felt peace And fear all at the same time Why my lips felt cold but kissed death good bye I look back not needing I look back not wishing I look back not wanting I look back wondering why Why It did not choose me this time By John McKinley Pride Jr 2/21/11

"Trying to Find Reason" Some times I see this strong man in front of me and some times I see the weak that can spout out from me knowing there is not such a thing as the fountain of youth my legs tremble like numb limbs to be cut off from disease. The cramping of my fingers, the forgetfulness of those things that are so dear to me and yet no matter what I do I steel just fade. I hear them say “you are vanishing, just let go” but I try to push on for what I think is the reason for been here. They whisper to me “the reason? What reason do you think you have here?” In a calm thought I say back to them “you know, my reason, my reason for been here” “Reason?” they say to me “what reason do you think you have, what part of reason do you not understand” I say back to them my reason that is the part I understand, the parts that make me, me and the reason that separates you from me’ The parts that complete me and every thing that I am from the tears and the touch of a wife to the stro

"Autumn Past" Shadows of an autumn past, the greenery is gone but my heart stays still. The blue heavens stay in my mind as thoughts walk next to me left to right. I find these words that seem so difficult to say, but yet love just walks away, not needing a challenge just a simple life with out the conflicts of others to make it so difficult to live an everyday life. Scared to find out that there is moor people against you then what you thought, but it’s the worst when you find that one of those people is you. But you won’t be stopped until there is another autumn approaching. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 3/8/’02

Flash forward and come back to your self The time with in the numbers in your hands To choose and pluck destinations unknown Love has grown and love has been lost Between the hands of certainty Death fallows behind step for step through the doors of secrecy Time stands motionless Time fly’s by Time is yours beyond all time Doorways open and close Close and then open Victorian dreams at there end To see the overly morel world that has long past Truly this is were it all begins Begins this story Begins this wonder Begins the clocks of time So the pendulum swings more then once And the bells are ringing loud in your ears Which door will be your last and where do you start over from here? Between love you must stay Between death you must run Between time you must push on Between these worlds you do not know Between worlds you must go Between worlds you must stay Become times clay it molds you in its own way Choose you must; you will find that time was all yours to hold, spin and mol

Time stands still Time fly’s by Time is yours beyond all time Doorways open and close Close and then open Death fallows behind step for step Victorian dreams at there end To see the overly morel world that has long past Truly this is were it all begins Begins this story Begins this wonder Begins the clocks of time And the pendulum swings With the bell ringing All for you By John McKinley Pride Jr

Well first off I would like to say thank you to who ever reads my blog or even shows any interest in it. It is truly humbling and an honor to have any one looking at my work or even my blog; Thank you so much. Were does it begin? Through ones pin or maybe the veins of some one who really loves the art of poetry or song righting. Maybe it all starts at the bed side of a child that has parents that sing them to sleep or read them a wonderful book. How ever it starts it can become like a fire in ones heart or a storm in ones brain; in my case it all started by a fifth grade teacher that put a belief in me that I never felt before. Now days we are loosing the touch of what made righter’s so great and artists so unique. The arts have become too easy to manipulate and have been perverted by others and the media that are just looking to become popular in there fifteen minutes of fame. I am not saying that making a living off what you are good at is a bad thing. What I am saying; is that now i

When I saw you; you blinded my eyes with beauty just by the near sight of you. All this time I wish I could spend with you; but I never have time for our love. Forgive me for what I’ve become your all I want in life; true to me, true to the touch and never able to see the beauty of our love. You’re like the sky; you’re like the moon to me always there but to far away to hold. I still have the taste of your lips on my mind from our last kiss and it’s the only thing that keeps me going. It just seems like things have all just gone wrong until you sing me to sleep with a beautiful song. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 9/12/08

Back to the hustle; to this man made concrete heaven soon to be its own country of over populated life styles. Self centered rights the voice for some that think they are lost and get trapped in its grasp of an oasis of feeling like they really belong only to find out that they are been scammed. They have been led to the slaughter of self indulgence and if there was a hell in this country then this is truly from north to south. Travel all you want you wont find happiness; be you the victor or the failure it’s all in the same book from back to front take your time it won’t change. Enjoy it all but hope there is no end and if there is I am sure it will not be pretty. By John McKinley Pride Jr 11/27/06

It’s this dream we all have that every one loves us all. Yet like the truth seeping through your submerged shelled life it drowns you. You find out they have been trying to sink you for years. “Now you’re not going to be pushed around any more” (You say to your self, with full confidence) But they can smell your fear like the hounds from hell they prey on you. If you just sit there what do they have to fear? Nothing at all, in less you make it clear that you wont be the clown in there private circus anymore. By John M. Pride Jr. 6/6/07

Well love them or dislike them we must some how deal with critics all through life from friends to family, from coworkers to bosses, from classmates to teachers and from neighbors to just the simple passer by. Well if you do anything that is set into the public’s eye or put it up on the “World Wide Web” then you know that people are going to love you or dislike you and friends nothing has changed when it comes to critics. Point been every body is a critic and a plethora of knowledge when it comes to your work. So be it flowers or tomatoes get ready cause the love you have for the work you do will be tested whether you like it or not. From Shakespeare to Pollock they have all been criticized for there work that they do. Some loved them and some hated them or were just plain jealous for the talents they possessed. One critic went as far as to say that Pollock’s work resembled burnt macaroni on canvas and some critics have gone far enough to say the Shakespeare did not write all of his pl

I look down the street and all I see is the end. I'll run until I get there; I hope I get there soon and I'll run to the end. I'll pass up everything that is important; the end that is were I'm running to until the end swallows me whole. I know it is coming and I can never see it. Yes; the end is where I would like to go and the end is where I belong. Drawling me near and keeping me panicked at the end. At the end is where we all will go. So, you say to me that I must face my fears and embrace theme if I am to fear theme no longer. To become my fears and know that I am stronger; to win this race and no longer walk amongst the fences of doubt that others have put before me. Yes, you ask me if I still have my senses. I tell you yes, because I know where I am going in the end. Way past this street named doubt that you have paved in front of me. Way past the limits that you have branded me with. Way past all those who have doubted who I could become. Well I say let the do

The loneliness behind you, the sadness in front of you and your face hangs low till you win again. How many win and how many lose, if I was there and you were here, would it make a difference if conscience were here. Behind your eyes you dream of sunrise and broad skies, but was it you that was missing, or was it I, that could not say a thing, or was I the one that was missing too. I don’t really know, you slowly look down at me as you lay your cards down, you win again. Its one out of a thousand ways to see your on top again and I’ll just lay down my cards of fate, slowly turn away from the table knowing, I lost again. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 8/6/’02

Posted on PoetsPages.com as well on 1/6/11 Well first off I would like to say thank you to who ever reads my blog or even shows any interest in it. It is truly humbling and an honor to have any one looking at my work or even my blog; Thank you so much. I’m in a bit of a slump right now with my poetry and need to have a piece done by Saturday for a friend of mine. So; I thought this would be a good thing to blog about since I’m sure we all go through these from time to time and maybe this might help me in the process so lets do this. Ok you have this idea, well you kind of have this idea and well there went that idea and yep now that idea is completely gone forever some where in that forbidden zone called “The Writers Block” DUN-DUN-DDAAAAAA!! Staring, you guised it; YOU! How many times have you been in a funk to where you just can not seem to kick the block head syndrome? You try every thing and for some odd reason you cant get the creative juices flowing. We as writers tend to get i

More space in my open place See this face it’s not mine; behind this all is where I hide. Got to take it slow, run with the flow Feel the clutch in my head and a hand of fear until I let it go. Some rage in my eyes, but love in my heart this time is blind; just take it slow and let it go. But what if I feel it? Where do I go with this monkey on my back? I can’t find it; the space or the place that my emotions want to hold so tight. More space in my open place; this face is not mine. Got to take it slow and just let it all go. By John M. Pride Jr 6/18/97

The tide will take me away, far out into the sea of all my problems. Leaving me stranded like a man with one arm swimming in circles, I can’t find my way. Lost in a labyrinth of liquid ready to submerge me in a deep darkness, only one last breath to breathe, the weight of the sea is crushing my soul. It has finally taking its toll, swimming in sadness, lost in the unknown, powerless and defenseless against what I have known. Sinking slowly; but surly; as time sneaks up and takes my will; it’s my life it will steal. My heart is silent, my skin is pastel, my lips an arctic blue, and my eyes shut never to open again. My body floating in perpetuity; my spirit free to soar to the sky, to live, not to die. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 3/26/’96

We lead a life of a caterpillar, not knowing that it is not our real life to be forever. To shed this shell that holds the soul so dear not wanting to let go of the life it holds; it will always be clear this body is not forever. Though I learn to crawl then walk and run with mirth upon my face as a child; though I learn to love and think as a youth it’s clear that this is not my true existence to be. Soon this shell that is fleshly tempted will grow old and fade away; my heart will burn like a radiance never seen. To be free at last and to rest forever in the love that will never lose color in whom I am to be in the end. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 2/21/99 10:25PM

"If You're Head Should Explode" For these are the days we see, in blue white lights of tattered silver steeds and dead men talking. Upon the sea, across this desert night this fire burns for you; yet you can not hear the flames of my lust rising. Take forth your own youth and your own broken heart and let it lie still for what you know of love will never reach you. Still the clouds may stay in your eyes, like a painting in Mozart’s dreams of old times, they have shattered as I dream of new blood like youth lost in the pictures of our past. Gray has become a friend of mine and a two wheeled steed glides me to my place of rest. By John McKinley Pride Jr. 4/12/97