Get a poem out.
Okay boys get those presses working.
The world is waiting for another poem.
Time is money in the poem business.
Get a bag of that angst
measure out that anger.
Gotta move.
We’re Poems to Go.
Man that window
they’ll be lining up soon.
Wrap those poems.
Here throw in some of this sadness
I got it from the wife.
It’s left overs
from that country song.
david michael jackson April 22,2012
“Why do you do that,
Why do you write these poems?”,
she said as she put her smokes on the table.
I don’t know
I don’t remember starting things.
So why do you continue
you blogger you,
putting your words among these billions of other words
from people like you,
pouring out their lives like salt,
salt which others will sweep away.
Why do you do this anononymous thing, this
insignificant scribbling of
chipmunks on a log?
Because the keyboard is there.
Why does someone pray?
Maybe I’m talking to Him.
Maybe I’m just talking to myself.
Maybe I’m the only one who thinks I’m clever
and I read myself for
my tiny little ego.
I write for me.
That’s it.
When I say waterfall
I see a waterfall,
flowing off the hillside and falling
falling
into a wonderful mist which
settles into a green
pool of spring time
water.
I wash myself in this water.
david michael jackson April 21, 2012 editors@artvilla.com
God Cries
Sometimes I think
there is no one listening.
Sometimes I think
“Why do I do this”
Sometimes it seems
I don’t remember making
the big decisions.
The things we do
We just do.
We can’t explain away our lives.
Every time a doe loses a fawn
God cries.
Every time a man fails and takes a drink
God cries.
He knows his creation is imperfect.
He created circles,
circles of
life laughter and tears.
God Cries Poem david michael jackson April 18, 2012
A Crow Poem For The Hot Dogs
No more
Shoe poems and tree poems and willow trees
in the sunset.
Oh let me be the crow on the golf course,
dodging balls,
eating scraps of hot dogs
left by the hot
dogs.
Let me be the golf course crow then,
the disrespected crow,
and I will fly and caw and pick at my black wings
with my yellow beak.
And this crow will perch,
perch in a big pine tree.
This crow will
lift his head to the sky and
caw again
enjoying the day and
waiting
for hot dogs.
david michael jackson April 15, 2012