John McKinley Pride Jr. Poetry & Art

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 about them. But deep in the heart of even a beast we know our faults and our wrongs; going to the grave with...

I'm just a simpleton, with a simple way of life. I live in a simple house, with a simple spouse. Simple as I may be, simple is all I can see, I'm just a simpleton watching monkeys fly from a blue moon and the curling top hat from a snowman’s head feeling the pupil of my eye with buttermilk dreams and fantasy schemes. Just a simpleton with a simple way a life, simple as I may be all I can see is simple this and simple that. It's a simple little tragedy to be the simpleton majesty. By John McKinley Pride Jr. ©7/12/97

Posted on poet pages.com Dec 29, 2010 So you’re a poet you say to all those around and they look at you and say well lets hear something then Mr. Poe. I am of course just kidding that never seems to happen to me for some reason after I tell some one that I have had poetry published or that I am a poet they always loose interest and just walk away with out a word to say; see I told you I was a poet. Anyhow it seems that in the resent years past there are more people becoming authors and poets more than ever before “why is this do you think?” well not to be a Debbie Downer but I really think that now more then ever before people are looking for the easy way out; hoping to make millions off the knowledge or wisdom they can bestow upon us in a leather bound book of hope to get on Oprah. I heard once in a movie “if she just farts on a book it makes millions” sorry for the potty humor but that’s what they said……… honest they said that. So you might be asking well what the heck is his poi...

"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; just a glance, just one final innocent moment to no...

"The Comfort of Orange Lights" The orange lights, they must have some meaning, life is there and life seems to be every where. These lights they shine like stars in a savior’s sky bright like fire flies bringing tears to my eyes. I remember this place, when I was young and out of place among the walking; it was not such a grand sight then to me as it is now. When I see them now it is like glory and a piece of my heart is put back in its place where it belongs. The fissure that once shadowed my very being is open and over spilling with happiness of wanting to be no where but there in its midst. Home, I miss you so and I hope to come back to live with you again amongst your glorious orange lights that bring me comfort again and again. By John McKinley Pride Jr 11/19/05

Word count: 48 Views: 0 What a love I have found in my son; what a love I found in my wife The two add up to me, two halves of a heart that I have never possessed inside this old tomb known as me. By John McKinley Pride Jr 1/14/09

"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...