Tag Archives: hope

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2 March, 2015

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poetry, self-portrait, storyteller, writing

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B-Side the Fire

Er, it was a dark day. O_O…

Also, ten billion points to whoever can guess where I got the title of the poem from! I’ll give you a hint, my favorite band is U2. :O

B-Side the Fire
J.C.D. Kerwin

I set the same song on reply.
I glue the button down
with blood and spit and tears
to make the track rerun because
right now (since how long, I can’t recall)
it’s been the only thing keeping me from
falling into vomit I am puking from my heart.
There are no words, just
the same acoustic refrain
as if it sends me far away
from whatever this
is supposed to be.
(“Reality,” they tell me.)

At least in my head,
I can’t get hurt and
I don’t wear a frown
quite as hard
as the PF Flyers
I’ve worn holes in.
I keep running but
I don’t know which way
to chase a daydream.
It’s like trying to catch the moon
at dawn.
I’m told we’re all
a little crazy,
a little sad,
a little weird and a little mad
sometimes.
But all I really am is desperate.
I just want to crack
these goddamn headphones in half
and climb inside the music notes
to find the Neverland I dream about
every time I close my eyes;
to see the faces that aren’t real
to everyone else but me.

I’d like to suck a couple drops
of caffeine nicotine and see
if an imaginary friend will come
skipping out to talk with me.
Perhaps he’ll reflect computer screens
and we’ll recite binary while
people think I’m drunk, but won’t
it be fun when I’m finally gone and free?
Oh how I wish this cord
led to a 4-D world instead of a little red
music box player that made me wonder
of perfectly imperfect impossibilities.

(January 2015)

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11 April, 2014

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poetry, self-portrait, storyteller, writing

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RockybumCoast

Moment in Time Sand Castle Wave, from http://www.kinhthanhmoingay.com

RockybumCoast
JCD Kerwin

Building all these sand castles
only scares
the horseshoe crabs
who have to take
the long way ‘round.

The glittery walls
are something fun
for ocean waves to swallow.
(They might’ve looked
like stone to us;
they fall
like rock to sea.)

I’m not much of a builder;
I like to play the day
based on what pancakes
to chow.
Blueberry or plain?
(What goes best with almond milk?)

I’m enemies best buddies
with the monster inside of me,
so I don’t need
to fight anything more
on solid ground.
Got enough choices to make
while looking in the goddamn mirror.
Don’t know how
to make the me I see
much better
for the people
who seem to think
I should be better.

(All I wanted was a pen and paper,
and to maybe make
the words last longer
than markings in beach mud.)
This whole damn thing
seems so much faster;
the hourglass really tipped over.
My pages turn by
like I’m not who’s writing
my own story.

I should throw the book into the waves
and let it fade in a soggy grave
with castles made of sand.

(April, 2014)

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4 April, 2014

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poetry, Uncategorized, writing

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Mulligan!

This is actually poorly written, but I thought I should be relevant for once.

Mulligan!
JCD Kerwin

Gas masks and bullet stings;
surrounded by police raids,
24-hour protests in the streets.
But stop for a break
so we
can sing an Olympic song,
full of World Peace and cheer.
(Your throat gets cut
the moment
you turn your back.)

Cry-me-a-river for
YouKnowWhere and
OverThere, and
don’t forget
Egypt and Syria,
and do you remember North Korea?
(Are they making boys cut their hair,
or was that a plot twist on Reality TV?
Well,
just don’t tell Old Ringo and Paul.)
And let’s give Africa a break
now that
the greatest man
who ever gave a damn
is dead.

We can’t seem to lose
this greedy weight,
in the west;
yet others can’t get skin
to stick to bones
with the mud from homes,
in deserts.

Wave hello, tell a joke,
to this company; to this corporation—
It’s a person, just like you!
(It’s got a heart and can feel pain!)
So let it loose from the Accountability Noose.

Silicon Valley’s a fancy place
for all the techy kids who want
to hide out in the future,
pretending it’s somehow better
where the grass is deader.
(But you can’t have Tomorrow, kids,
without fixing up Today.)

Watch out!
There’s a drone overhead;
it can read the pizza order on your cell phone.

Make no excuses for the abuses
to the freedoms of our brethren.
Recite the data we’ve memorized when we close our eyes:
“Inside we’re all the same color, but
on the outside I don’t like
the way you say ‘hi,’ and
I don’t like how you tan;
the fact you love another man.
And by the way,
fuck your religion.”

Hail to this land, this earth,
this world; we are all of us damned.
Wait, I have an idea! Take my hand and I’ll lead you to the stars.
We’ll pretend we never happened.

Hallelujah.

(April, 2014)

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22 January, 2014

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determination, poetry, self-portrait, storyteller, writing

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Peddling into Hurricanes

This is not [just] about childhood.

Peddling into Hurricanes
JCD Kerwin

At twelve,
you biked faster than
wind storms;
made twisters
turn up in your wake

you turned blacktop
into neverlands and
neverwases just because
you made believe
it was far from here

Now,
you’re made to think
you’re a fool ‘cos you
only want
to feel your heart
beat in your throat
again;
maybe feel the stars
again.

because you went to Jupiter,
once.
don’t ever let them tell you
it isn’t true;
that it was a game;
that it was all just
play, pretend…

I want to feel
that wind
again,
and scare them all
when i laugh
at hurricanes.

people should
run from
super storms, but i
want to make history
in rain clouds.

i want to hold my hands
high above handlebars
again;
make the wind
jealous of my might
again;
and hear the whole world
move.

Maybe i can believe,
(once again)
that having all these dreams
is still worth peddling
into hurricanes.

(January, 2014)