Poetry: Selections from Robert J. W.

Running Towards A Sun That Never Rises

 

Lay my head in

clouds holding blistered words.

I’ll drench myself in

grief for a

 

life never lived.

We all

dream of

 

dead men, spending them

like the

lies we tell ourselves.

My heart is

a cannonball; it’s

stained with

 

sepia mistakes but

keeps me

running

 

towards a

sun that never rises.

Let the

 

darkness drill into

my eyes so I

 

finally gain sight.

I’ll regret my

growth yet

bathe in it as if

 

I’m an

infant, gasping

for breath in a

sea of stars

 

suffering from

rigor mortis.

Maybe Heaven Is The Space Between Traumas

 

I cannot

hate myself into a

joyous life.

I’m rebelling against

 

the standards I set when

I crawled with

 

the angel’s wing.

Maybe Heaven is the

space between traumas.

My mouth still holds

a pacifier.

 

It tastes of

peaches and

glass religion.

A Guillotine Over The World’s Neck

 

My mood rises and

falls like a

 

guillotine over the

world’s neck.

May my years of

 

progress roll into the

potential I

 

lost along the way.

None of it

shall be missed.

I Show Myself Love Like A Politician

 

I show myself love

like a politician.

My forearms are

laced with promises for

 

stagnant air.

Breathe in and you’ll

 

taste the forgetfulness.

All of my

organs are

 

voids into which I

whisper a

 

dead language.

I

won’t listen.

Robert J. W. is a poet and writer from Morgantown, WV. He has been writing poetry for 20 years now. He has frequently published collections with Alien Buddha Press (including Dusty Video Game Cartridges and Bed of Bones) as well as being featured in several of their zines and anthologies. He enjoys listening to music, meditating, reading, and hanging with friends.