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Showing posts from 2013

Conspire to inspire thousands a poem By John M. Pride Jr

“Conspire to inspire thousands” Contrive to escape the knowledge of others means of self-destruction. They are excogitating, in finding ways to get into your mind. Fulfilling all their own desires to bring fire from the ones they control. Never wanting to mend the heart Never letting the white dove free from their grasp; breaking the olive branch. Sitting upon hills looking down laughing at the ignorant they have built. They sit upon a pedestal built by the blind. Conspire to inspire thousands Yet the ones with blood money will make you a pariah to those you try to lead. What words can you speak and will they change the world? What words can you write and will anyone read them? Will they change the world? What will they change if you do not speak out loud? What will it change if the words stay in your head? What would it change if they cannot hear you? What will it change if you don’t share your dreams with even the ones that you think don’t care for you? By John M. …

What does it mean to be? a poem by John McKinley Pride Jr

“What does it mean to be?” All of us leaders but we can not find our own way to lead. We all become followers in our end; while others lead in conceit breaking out of the eggs of there own rebirth of self-indulgence. We bring all to the fire hoping no one gets burned as we walk away with out the very skin upon our own backs. We can never rekindle the rented promises of others that they keep so deep with in there pockets. Shadows are left behind and so are we; some choose to stand in the shadows. We are not the givers of them or the ones standing in them; we are the shadows we are the ones every one looks through and past. We are the complete after thoughts of an empty theater stage. Just humble sweepings on the floor of others stardom; who shine there selfish light in one direction. But we will be even a light in some one else’s eyes that we do not see. So I ask you; what does it mean to be? By John McKinley Pride Jr ©6/6/11

Mercury Nine Times a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

“Mercury Nine Times” There is Mercury deep within my eyes Mercury falling from space feeling up this hallowed heart with little space The clouds cry tears of joy down upon my face Mercury all over the place No longer does this emptiness haunt me That once was behind this desolate face of mine Feeling so young then growing old as if time hated me Behind this face of mine I have seen many a set of eyes from up close Very little of them held eyes so green as yours I have many memories of you and your green eyes It seems to be some times the only thing that keeps me awake at night The only thing on my mind that keeps me wondering about the faces I have seen before Nine seems to be a small number of times that I have dreamed of you You are here though with in me, all around me, I feel you against my skin You have filled the empty space behind this face made of wax You drain the mercury from within me You make me smile once again Like I always have dreamed If you could …

I Hope My Heart Just Grows a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

“I Hope My Heart Just Grows” My heart changes from time to time My heart beats a different way My heart pumps and thrives for more than what I have Oh how I pray it never stops beating this way A strong heart should win over; egotistical powered brains A strong heart is what others should strive for However they fill their mind before their heart and it seems to get smaller as the brain becomes bigger My heart is always changing My heart is ever changing My heart is thriving for more I hope it keeps growing and I never change my mind for my heart to always be this way By John McKinley Pride Jr. ©6/11/12

Bend the Bullet a Poem by John McKinley Pride Jr

“Bend the Bullet” There is this life you want You can’t seem to live it You can’t seem to walk it It leads you in circles leading you nowhere You try to bend the bullet Only to see that you must bite it They tell you that you’re no one special They tell you that they are happy you have a hobby Your no one to them at all; why care? The barrel to your chest and the doubters in your head The hurt drowns all of your hope Leaves you in your sinking failure every time Try to bend the bullet You can never succeed like this standing in the corner of others shadows on your tippy, tippy toes with the books of your past years with in your hands collecting the dust of the bones that others have thrown to you. Only to watch the devil add more books upon those as you procrastinate with your dreams. We must all bleed out our fears sooner or later Sometimes we must learn to except it; to read the writing on the wall and know that the end is near in what they know about you. What …

Elastic Me a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

“Elastic Me” Elastic skin pulled back again and again. Trying to slow down cells of created textured time to find that the heart is still the same age and nothing really has changed. The blood that thickens quickens all the patterns that lead to some end. Elastic skin pulled back again and again. Nothing really changes; nothing really grasps true reality it all coagulates the same way but never truly mends deep down with in. Yes they all love your elastic skin Yes they all love your plastic ways Now go see who your true friends are and who will love you in the end. By John McKinley Pride Jr ©9/5/11

The Devils and Death Have no Hold on My Dreams a Poem By John McKinley Pride Jr.

“The Devils and Death Have no Hold on My Dreams” If I could only share what lies with in me or what my imagination holds which grows within the seams of this crimson colored bag I carry. These are just the mere threads of something greater that could be; however they are chained down with in me. If I could look the devils in there eyes while setting down my cards; I would tell them to get into my bag of dreams so they cause no harm or make there contracts for others souls no more. If I could gather the devils to do as I say I would ask them to see the face of death and I would tell him to get into my bag of dreams so he no longer lingers over the beds of our loved ones who are sick. I could be gleeful knowing those who I love will never die or sale there souls for less than they are worth. We could cheat death and no longer be afraid of the dark when we close our eyes. As the seasons change turning all around me would I change my mind; Shirley there will be those who will ask m…

Here Comes The Sun: a 12x16 Acrylic Painting By John M. Pride Jr

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One of my latest paintings "Here Come's The Sun" 12x16 Acrylic Painting By John M. Pride Jr