John McKinley Pride Jr. Poetry & Art

"Frozen Lovers" The dreams of frozen lovers die. Hang from icicles that are thin at their and drip into a vapor their quick to disappear been held by a new lover to be exhaled again upon the skin of another. Cold seductive lips; that lie and lie again builds the icicles and drips into the sunlight returning to a spectrum of color and to the emptiness below into a lie that never ends. By John M. Pride Jr. © 10/12/14

"The clock melts" What seems to be on your mind all the time? What speaks to you to do what you do? The voices in your head don't carry out words into the air unless the words are too heavy to carry for you. The words are rich and vibrant and full of life and wisdom. How do they make the gears in your mind turn? When the world around you just seems to burn, time seems to be made out of cloth and that Cloth is made out of time. When all we can do; is think about how to spend our time we try to learn how to kill our time as well. Like the flame of the candle light flickers and sputters turns and burns to the wax like our skin has melted away. By John M. Pride Jr. © 10/12/14

"Walking away" You have held my head to the chopping block for too many years. You have held your ax above your head. You waited for my last words I had none for you; until you dropped that heavy ax of burden upon me. Now you hold my head to the sky by the strands of my hair shouting out loud your own humble ways. Shouting out loud that you have one screaming like a heathen. Only to find that death is its own reward in this parade you built for yourself. By John M. Pride Jr. © 10/12/14 I know I have not posted in a long time but I hope to get it going again.

“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. P

“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” 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 j