Showing posts from June, 2011

Roaming Souls and Broken Hearts: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

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 Pride Jr

The Warehouse: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

“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

The Lost: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

“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

The Wolf’s Clothing: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

“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