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Poems by John Sweet- “in these cupped hands holding nothing” and “theme for the eternal now” April 29, 2021

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in these cupped hands holding nothing

a sound like christ
denying the pain

a cold sunlit morning filled
with junkie priests and shadow kings

the lie that all of these wars are
different and not tied together by the
same ropes of ignorance
and greed

and it was a mistake
i made once, not numbering
myself among the cowards

it was my father who
showed me the light

knew we might not all be nowhere
but we are all still nothing

we are all the flesh of god left
rotting at the freeway’s edge

can’t spend our lives being afraid
to dig for the humor buried
down underneath
all of that blood-soaked pain

theme for the eternal now

let our blood be a gift,
a song

let peace be
the obvious answer

not picasso, but chagall

not pollock, but tobey

see?

it only ends up being a
lifetime of distance between us

it only ends up being a
mistake followed
by a missed opportunity

a phone call that
no one answers

a letter written but
never sent

and are you someone who
would apologize to
empty space?

are you a better god?

it’s not answers i’m after
here, but actions
it’s an admission of regret,
but then what?

time is the enemy

the future holds the end

you can only admit to
love or deny it

you can only accept

the answer
is this why we spend our
whole lives afraid?

Read more of John’s poetry at The Bleeding Horse, Avenged

Poems by John Sweet – “one for the disappeared visionary” and “one of us speaking without bitterness to the other” May 12, 2020

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one for the disappeared visionary

all clocks stopped in this well-lit
room i dream and these doors that
never quite open or close as i
try to tell you i love you

these men who step out from behind
their own shadows holding faded
pictures of missing children,
holding blank sheets of paper,
and so no information is exchanged

no new truths are created and
none of our passing days
add up to a life
all acts of faith
fall short in the end

one of us speaking without bitterness to the other

and hate is a castle
                         yes
and all pain passes

believe in sorrow and
            in broken locks

believe in windows thick with frost or
ones streaked with dust

paint the walls blue

let the roof collapse

my gift to you will always mean
nothing if
nothing is
what your life has become

BIO
John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A FLAG ON FIRE IS A SONG OF HOPE (2019 Scars Publications).

Poems – “Found/Lost” and “The Sound” by John Sweet February 14, 2019

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found/lost

was talking about this dog on fire
was talking about nixon
or cobain or
some other suicide

last day of july and
the smell of all those bodies
rising from the river

your pale breasts cupped
in my blistered hands
more beauty in this
world than i
could ever describe

 

the sound

was talking about
clouds in the moonlight

was drinking you like
holy wine, like poison laced
with strawberries

had almost forgotten
everything i’d
wanted to

 

John’s poetry collections are available on Amazon.com and issuu.com

John’s blog is The Bleeding Horse, Avenged