morning light
creeps in
like a dirty secret.
no more
crumpled pages,
no more
coffee-stained
charm.
newspapers
used to give us
that extra bit
of motivation and
some free breasts
to start the day.
now it's just a hollow
... – by Joe Strickland | 4 Views added 5 months ago
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i sit,
inebriated,
in the dimly lit tavern
of my mind.
i nurse
a whiskey-stained
critique
of all the souls
who dare to breathe
beside me.
their flaws are
unavoidable.
to arms,
to words that cut
like knives
but the truth,
... – by Joe Strickland | 7 Views added 5 months ago
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i'm committed
to the evolution of my soul,
a work in progress,
a painting of becoming,
and unbecoming,
where the brushstrokes
of experience
are layered
upon the palimpsest
of my consciousness.
whatever young joe would think,
it... – by Joe Strickland | 8 Views added 5 months ago
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I am clearly too
sesquipedalian
for you,
drunk on words
that swirl like cheap
whiskey
in the gutter
of your understanding.
my vocabulary
a middle finger
flipped at the simplicity
you crave,
a world of plain talk
and dull skies.
... – by Joe Strickland | 8 Views added 5 months ago
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the dark ages
of rationality,
where the only light
is the glow
of our screens,
the only truth
is the one we tell
... – by Joe Strickland | 5 Views added 5 months ago
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the cramped pews
of childhood,
we were taught
to fear the flames
that licked the damned,
our sunday school teachers,
stern as judges
wagging fingers,
warning of eternal pain,
as if the fires of hell
could sear our souls
more than... – by Joe Strickland | 6 Views added 5 months ago
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throat,
a narrow alley
where shadows
of memories
gathered to whisper
their cruel nothings.
as I choked
on the silence
the taste of it bitter
like last night's regret
like the words
I never spoke,
like the love
I never gave,
... – by Joe Strickland | 6 Views added 5 months ago
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I'm unhappy
but that's the price
of being the rock
they lean on
my wife's smile
is a fleeting thing
a sunset on a
bad day
my daughters' laughter
is a distant hum
a reminder of
all I've undone
I'll drink alone
tonight, again
and... – by Joe Strickland | 4 Views added 5 months ago
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probably sleep too much,
but I like sleeping.
it's like being dead
without the responsibility
of being... – by Joe Strickland | 4 Views added 5 months ago
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clown's painted smile
fades like a scar
on the streets of london,
where he once made kings
laugh and forget
that they were rulers.
his spotlight is dwindling
to a faint glow.
he finds a ballerina,
who has died many times,
who is
... – by Joe Strickland | 5 Views added 5 months ago
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music sounds
a lot like abraham lincoln
looked
after the play,
and I can't explain it.
it just bores... – by Joe Strickland | 9 Views added 5 months ago
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is no map
to guide us.
happiness a mist
that clings
to the skin
of our uncertainty,
no direction
to follow,
only the ache
of our longing,
a compass needle
spinning wildly.
happiness,
a state of being,
not a destination
... – by Joe Strickland | 4 Views added 5 months ago
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the garden
my grandmother's hands
pruning the orchids,
whispering to the flowers
as if they were her own
children.
fear comes
with its impressive
silence
and says:
you should be afraid
of being forgotten.
she looks up
and asks:
... – by Joe Strickland | 13 Views added 5 months ago
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long as the state holds
its breath in the executioner's
gloved hand there is no
guarantee the innocent won't
be led to the altar of
justice like a lamb
its eyes blindfolded
by the very system
that promised to protect.
the noose... – by Joe Strickland | 4 Views added 5 months ago
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people who gain
the world's attention,
their faces plastered
on billboards and screens,
but lose their soul
in the process,
like a receipt
crumpled and discarded
in the gutter of their
former lives where
love was a flame
that warmed... – by Joe Strickland | 5 Views added 5 months ago
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heart feels like
a spent cartridge,
rattling with every beat,
each pulse
a reminder
of all that's been
taken.
the world is
a firing range
and I'm the only target,
bullet holes
in my soul
leaking out the little
love I once had,
... – by Joe Strickland | 2 Views added 5 months ago
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converges.
let my legacy be their laughter.
let it be the way they've grown,
like wildflowers,
untamed and unbridled,
their petals unfolding
to greet the sun.
in the end,
it isn't the words
that will remain,
but the love.
... – by Joe Strickland | 10 Views added 5 months ago
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of what I say
is meaningless,
but I say it just
to arouse your ears.
in the dark
of my mouth
where words
are born from the injury
of silence.
crystal,
I whisper your name
when you're asleep
next to me,
like a prayer to... – by Joe Strickland | 13 Views added 5 months ago
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brother's arms,
a cubinism of bruises.
neptune's moonlit spoons
scattered on the floor
of his shitty motel,
like a constellation of shame.
he says he's searching
for a feeling
that isn't there,
a fleeting high
to numb the ache
of... – by Joe Strickland | 15 Views added 5 months ago
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a stirring mark.
your presence is a visible force.
you bring a spark to every space.
your influence is far-reaching.
you have a profound presence,
like the first time I kissed
a girl who tasted like smoke,
and the city's perpetual... – by Joe Strickland | 10 Views added 5 months ago
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mouth a bruise
i want to press
into the hollow
of my throat
where the pulse
of my desire
throbs
like a trapped bird.
i dream
of your fingers
like a vice
around my cock
squeezing out
the last drop
of sanity
from my... – by Joe Strickland | 9 Views added 5 months ago
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isn't nine-tenths
of the law.
it's the rust
on my father's old keys,
the ones he used
to unlock
the doors to our
foreclosed dreams.
it's the smell of mildew
on my mother's
faded dresses hanging
in the closet
of a house
... – by Joe Strickland | 6 Views added 5 months ago
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she's going to carry
that weight
her whole life,
because I don't want to try
and take it off
her shoulders.
no, I mean because I do
want to try,
but her pride blinds her
to the gentle
tug of my hands
reaching for the burden,
... – by Joe Strickland | 7 Views added 5 months ago
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the diploma
a flutter of promises,
like confetti in the gutter,
empty calories of praise.
no one asks how I'm doing
only what I can do
for them.
my phone number a secret,
a currency I won't spend
on acquaintances and strangers
who... – by Joe Strickland | 10 Views added 5 months ago
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is nothing,
a void that swallows,
the tongue that tries
to speak its name.
what comes from nothing?
the ache of a belly
that's never been full,
the weight of a hand
that's never held
anything but air,
everything,
a whispered... – by Joe Strickland | 7 Views added 5 months ago
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further
i drift from the human tide
the better i feel.
no noise,
no chaos,
no expectations,
just the silence
of my own skin.
people do too much,
they say too much,
just sleep all day
and forget the day
of the week,
of the year,
... – by Joe Strickland | 3 Views added 5 months ago
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i'd rather be an unknown poet
than a celebrity,
lost in the margins
of my own making
where the only fame
is the echo of my name
in the hollow of my chest,
a whispered promise
to the words that haunt me
like a ghost in my mouth
refusing to... – by Joe Strickland | 8 Views added 5 months ago
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america's teeth are rotting
from the inside out
like mr. russell's
after years of neglect
and too much sugar.
the dream's a cavity
filled with the gold
of broken promises
and the rust of progress.
millsters we were called,
the ones who... – by Joe Strickland | 9 Views added 5 months ago
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the corners
of my upbringing,
a voice whispered secrets
of the american heartland,
a troubadour
of the mundane.
he constructed towers
of words that rustled
like leaves
in the autumn chilly wind.
his rhythm,
a gentle lapping
... – by Joe Strickland | 4 Views added 5 months ago
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you're a dirty habit
i can't recover from,
a cigarette burn
on my lips,
this wound that I won't
dress.
i know better
than to crave
your toxic touch,
your lies and tricks.
but my heart's an addict,
always coming back
for another... – by Joe Strickland | 8 Views added 5 months ago
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