I am a created man (as all others), with empty words upon my spoken dialect that spills the blood of martyrs within a biased land; an emptiness so deep, and oh, so truly damned. I am this savage world that seizes then destroys with a biased claim. I am this pit of eternal fires where fiery demons thirst upon their crimson death. I am this … Continue reading Innocent Blood
A Diminutive Measure of Peace from 1972 – Now! by John G. Evans © 5/1/2020 3:04:43 AM The dead recalling of bones fossilized by an angry time, 1972, and a war that was not mine. Silence has been the order of dead brain cells scandalized by the humanity factor, where silence never was for as the silence grew and matured, it became a phenomenal voice. … Continue reading A Diminutive Measure of Peace from 1972 – Now!
“This Erotic Burn” by John G. Evans I am fire fanning the flames of crucified flesh unduly forsaken, I am the hot, red, hallowed blood that burns through guiltless veins. I am the sacred night sweltering for sacred curves and cambered frames. * With fiery dreams and melded hearts, flowered echoes in the blackness of night, woven within the fabric for each soul’s birthright. … Continue reading This Erotic Burn
John G Evans © 2019 Ah, poetry! Some do, some don’t. I do. You either like it, or? For me, a splintered soul wounded by the predatorial muse that searches me out in all my vulnerabilities entombs the vastness of these desert skies. Freedom, a word untouched for none owe a guilty price. Or, we all do, and yet, the raven still flies and calls … Continue reading War in ’72
Thus, engraved of form within my soul, my words do flow – I shall write from memory days recalled in the absence of soul where each encounter does render its toll. This Risqué Night: A Villanelle John G Evans © 2016 I’ve lived this dark and risqué night, befallen and stroked by this erotic burn – Or tainted passions from fiery darts assailed of each … Continue reading This Risque Night: A Villanelle
A Message to my Wife John G Evans © 2017 You know, when we have our long talks about trauma, I can’t stand myself. Why? I don’t know, except that I hated living a regimented life. As if all this shit was not enough, and for some nature verses nurture kind of reason, I followed in my dad’s footsteps, and volunteered for the USMC in … Continue reading A Message to my Wife