John McKinley Pride Jr. Poetry & Art

"Staircase of Forlorn Sunshine" Push the button kill the man Pull the trigger kill the man Pull the string kill the man That’s why I look up to you there’s no one left but you; so I look to you. There’s no one here but you; all the lonely people passing by my stair way; all the forlorn people wishing for another day. I don’t want to become some broken record on the turn table of life. Out on the street I lye wanting to pick my self up off the ground wanting and only wanting what I can’t have because it has all gone away with time as its reaper. That’s why I look up to you That’s why I depend on you I watch the sunset and then stare at the moon knowing there is a dark side there. I watch the sun set but I talk to the moon. There must be a reason why we are here There must be a reason to have no fear to die a peaceful death to die in a beautiful way is all I want. To live a happy life and say I am alright I am not part of the forlorn and I am no longer a passer by the stare...

I know a weakness, I know a fear, I know discouragement and I know a tear. Hope waits at the door today; yet I lock it and turn away letting someone down today. The more I run, the more I'm blinded by the light of day creeping up like yesterday. The fear comes just like today, just one glimpse and I feel the need to look back. My soul becomes unknown to me; I'm scorched like a rose in the sun, burn, burn, burn before yesterday. So again I awake surrounded by the same light; the second chance in life to see yesterday as today. My hand upon the door feeling the urge to open to see what has fallowed me; a pain or fear I can not see for I thought it was living inside me. My heart in conflagration I want to know more as the door knob glows I poll away there is never a yesterday there is only today. The windows to my soul there is none; I am blind with frustration and hostility with what fervor I have left in me is dried up like dead leaves in the fall. I am strength and if you know...

Word count: 110 Views: 1 This phase of life seems so frail to touch, a crushing wait that smothers some, but helps others breathe again. It all comes together or it all falls apart, each day different from the start. Kind hands that help scared buy past abuse, yet the ones who are unmasked wont waste there time. A phase in your mind, but it’s something that happens on occasion. A crushed heart, a tattered soul and skin bruised by a malevolent fist of hate. This phase, just like the next, is to forget about and always hope that they would regret all that they have done. By John McKinley Pride, Jr. ©5/2/’02

Word count: 139 Views: 25 This throne of thorns how long have I sat here and bled torment that seems to never leave me. I’ll pretend that I even care and walk away from it for a day only to seek it again for the love of a friend to find my way back tripping on a crack of hatefulness and jealousy that flows from those who try to take the heart out of every thing I do. My heart is big and full of life scared maybe but strong; stitched back together by seeing the work of those who are selfish and full of them selves. Oh, I wish I could bring the lion out of me some times but it always ends up been a cub of fear and the tears of a crocodile. By John M. Pride Jr. ©9/2/08

Word count: 130 Views: 14 Tired, broken, some how falling, some how never stopping, never knowing, what was next. How can I stay under this rock? This thumb that has no print, talking to my self and saying why don’t you move? Why don’t you shake away these inner blues, you call your personal hell? I quietly adjust my own ears so that I don’t hear my self say you can do better. Some must push on, some must stay happy with what they have, some don’t have to do anything and some must die trying. That’s my must in life, to spend the long days ahead, making up for all the things I didn’t do. Even then I’ll find my self, talking about these inner blues. By John McKinley Pride Jr. ©2/8/’05

Word count: 152 Views: 1 I’ve forgotten you, help me remember you, I have forgotten the past and the memories that I shared with you. So please don’t forget me, I have forgotten the bad things you did, I have forgotten the tears of my yesteryears; they all belong to you. What can I do? When your so far away and I forget you; so tainted is our past with the spilled alcohol and drugs, the blood that runs so thick through our families veins runs through mine as well. I was pushed away with my mouth taped shut like I had nothing to say. I just wanted to run far away; now I’m grown and I've forgotten the past; along with the wounds; so I have forgotten, let our troubles go, go far down the drain of the past, lets forget all the hurt; between you and I. By John McKinley Pride Jr. ©7/30/’97

Word count: 147 Views: 14 (I know this is a bit dark but I like to mix things up once in a while with a little darkness put in my poems) I am the arc I am the spark I am the power grid that feeds your hate. The flame that burns your love, the heat that dissipates the very breath you take; the fear that breeds your tears and poles the teeth from your smile. Glowing eyes I have none, horns and a tale I am not a trick or a treat; I am your failure. I am deep down inside you, the part of you that you won’t let out; the parts of you that you can’t let go or forget about. But I am here, I am always here and I am waiting for you to let me free. By John M. Pride Jr. ©11/6/08