Soul Mate

The sound echoing in the room was unmistakable.
The seductive click of a woman's high heel shoes.

I turned and saw her, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
She had long dark hair, bright green eyes, and legs till Tuesday night.

As she approached I was spellbound, her smile melted me.
Her eyes saw thru me like inexpensive glass.
There was a lump in my throat, I tried to breathe but could not.

Try after try, no air at all.
This woman has taken my breath away, could this be my soulmate after all this time?

I just had to speak to her.
I struggle to get enough air to form the words for my special angel.
I get enough air and finally speak.
"Excuse me miss you are standing on my oxygen tube."


-Johnny V.

God's Dignity

All to often we grace God's stage. With lackluster, and mediocre talent. Lines  scarcely memorized, clumsy blocking and false props. Performed before an audience of deviants, both vintage and newly fondled. Our attempts at dignity feeble at best.      

Courage that is nourished within our breast, turns sac cloth before our superiors. The gentlle morning mist becomes violent torrents of ocean waves when brought before his torch bearers. So we continue with dishonest manners, clinging to the nook-shotten lands of our fathers.

But still we fight, for within each of us is the scent of God's courage. Bestowed since the sun was an infant. It is that power that gives us our victories, sadly the very same will be our downfall.     

-Johnny V.

Action

That moment when fear gives way to the stingy slut of action, we are forced to face life's ungoverned miscreants raging with hate. Forgotten, brefreft of reverence, and desperate for a skirmish of violence. Cries against our kin, those proud fierce solders of pride stand proud. That dismal battlefield of the commonwealth, grey as the sky at dusk yet unaware of its future task.
                     
When the final bugle sounds, the raw stench of a neglected sewer-ditch, fixes itself in the air above the blood stained and newly hallowed ground as the scarlet liquid feeds the soil. The once dauntless and sure generals with tear-dashed cheek evaluate what is left of their whorehouse of shame as they hang low their brows.

Our  cochineal courage lay dormant in need of approval from the law-stationer’s god. Many will leave with empty scared souls. Those who remain, battle-worn and grateful of a gentle rain. This event complete, homeward they march. Ever forward heads riding broad with the trust that today death has been paid his due.

-Johnny V.

Her Respect

Secure your terrors to the lonesome mast, step bravely into the promise of the future. Allow the most pearlescent star to forever be your guide. Once the sea calls, only a frightened few will have the strength to deny her what she desires.

Stand and face her vastness, knowing the countless victims that came before still imprisoned beneath her calm blue belly. Make the deck your rampart, and face her head on, for earning nature's respect is a treat for the very few.

Evoke and curse her winds and waves that thunder against your eager vessel. Keep your heart true for within the bosom of God we are all saved.  Beware for the sea, that beguiling and naive slut will drag many to her ultimate greed.

-Johnny V.

Conclave of the Gods

Do not be horror-struck to gaze into Lucifer's eyes. For he too a sinner, and as the serpent looked heavenward with shame with a mouthful of Eve's bitter fruit.

In the gentle and fond hands of God we are all one. Saint, forgiven each besmirch, and sinner wiped clean. Face the storm head on, for we are only brief passengers riding a phaeton chariot on this pale rock. Once departed our memory fades, our mark under a thinner veil.

Stand strong with righteous zeal and shun the path of the despondent bearded son, and revel in the conclave of the gods. Hold fast to the breath given you, be content as the robe-maker in his kingdom rather the king of the simple minds.        

-Johnny V.

Night's Mist

The morning dew conquers the night mist, my avendaged and broken siern peirces my hope, I call out yet my protective angel is distant and obscure.   

I am left to her fickle whims and mocking laughter. I conferred my naked and inpassionated soul unto the sacrosanct of her april scented bossom, but her release of me left it inbittered and lost.   

I handed her my heart fueled with the courage of 1000 martyrs, but reclaimed it dry as the desert sand on an August day.

I have overcome my wound although it is deep it no longer holds any power over me. Where she is to this day I know not, I worry not.

But as the morning wind brushes the trees I hear anguish. Alas, she has attended to the fools lined at her threshold. Those naifs awaiting a mere glimpse, of her deep soft emerald eyes.  

-Johnny V.

The Harpy's way

My heart is thronged with contradictory decorations, and allowed only second-hand emotions. She has left me inter-wreathed with brimstone and unmet desires.

Sitting upon a black-velvet cathedra she calls me from the lattice windows. Her compulsions are chief and demand attention. Grasping at my neck cloth she tightens her sinewy grip. My disadvantaged heart is forever padlocked to her and her kinsmen.

My work, she claims is incomplete, I must she says, entertain her Hell-born, savage obligations without hope of reward. For within her ungentle suburb, Midas holds fast to his coinage.

I am to be her caddy, her ploughman as she tends to her faithful and eager whores each awaiting her pansophy. Although she often speaks as a fresh trumpet from the precipice of a moral high ground, her slight and bifurcate tongue will indeed sour the truth.

-Johnny V.

Neglected Wind-chime

The fragrant mephitis of hopelessness lingers upon my tongue long after I have inquired of her. Her deceit hangs on my being like a neglected wind-chime noiseless in the silent air.

Like a beehive that expels its swarm, she liberates her past lovers, doomed to meander pathless woods, like shrunken fragments murmuring at her feet.     

She is brawny and proficient at being the affectionate parasite. Leaving those in her wake with damaging wounds yet unknown.

Those who flee grasp at innocent determination, but alas plunged into damp solitude. For she, agelong has been in Don Juan's favor, since Rome first embraced her heroes.

But the ill-omend who fall under her spell, doomed to eek out dark centuries of shame, in a sad unallied existence. Their forgotten epitaphs written with the smallest of crow-quills.

Their souls dispiritedly begging the lone withered branch to reveal her new leaf.

-Johnny V.

Winter Thin

I'm anguished by a mad-brain, trapped forever within an idiot skull. With a deep enduring and untremendous might. I cumulate my wearisome objects to my twisted majestic heart, ready as ever with its hollow mockery. My redemption stands near my garden of despair watching my demise with contemptuous indignation.

Still forever labouring inside my frozen gloom listening to Satan play his fistulous lute. With the passing of each malignant hour I grow winter thin and stale as I sip shamefully from my bewildering cup of delight. Never will I know the girl from the depths of the sea. For I am allowed only the assist of long forgotten and drowned deities.

- Johnny V.

Beneficiary of his Wisdom

Big dreams became his very early, his skill with the sketch pencil brought him mighty praise.  Soon life's duty took hold as his path changed. Forced was he to leave the role of youth and brother to assume the parent tree, hanging his desire on the topmost bough.

His strength not only of body but of heart was known and borrowed far and wide.  With his countless skills and abilities, saying no was the hardest to accomplish. And when his nation requested his sacrifice he went without question. A select few would ever hear his grotesque sights in that time of fervent martydom.

She understood and loved him as none before. His devotion to her was gentle and complete. Those who came from that love became his joy and happiness. His pride in them floated to the ears of all he spoke to. From that moment his destiny was complete.

As one of those lucky four, my ability to repay the debt owed to him can never be met. He bestowed upon me not solely how a man must live but the proper acts of a husband and father. I will forever strive to meet his examples, and fall short more often than not.

His all too early departure on the wings of golden feathered eagles left a void in so many.  He rose thru tender clouds, to become part of Saturn's Fleet. But his love and mark will remain forever in hearts and souls of all he touched.

I owe not only my presence to him but my goals and aspersions. For I am forever a beneficiary of his endless wisdom. I love you dad.

-Johnny V.

Country Men

The sight of her brazen brow is finer in the light of tourch bearing slaves. For she is exalted in God's embrace. The powerful sound as his angels blow their monstrous horns.

Her voice is hope holding out its hand in the dark, and its sounds are of a calm-throated  and dream filled prophet. Under her watch those with loud endeavoring tongues are sent noiselessly into the darkest nights.

With one coquettish smile she can command bronzed centurions with spurring heels to march forward to their doom. Yet with the same she turns dilapidated streets into pleasant turf filled paths crowded with sweeping sandals.

From such far-foamed sea shores, noble winged creatures flee from their god of torment to her slumberous solitude, and
adoring tears. She can turn those with fanatic obstinacy into country men in a comfortable misery. Content to remain brickmakers and unwilling to disturb her slumber.

-Johnny V.

Sailor's Lament

When she walks by even the sea-king bows his dripping head. Her soft feet lightly mark the walk but leave blanced soil for all who follow.

Her beauty, bequeathes even rebellious tempests, abandoned and begging at the door of the almshouse. She can with ease entrust the most herculean of men with vigorous cravings, each crying an urn of lonely tears.

She leads the most powerful to the altar of the dying, forcing the most devout sailors to allow the ocean to swallow their very stealth.

She alone finds support within the very jagged rocks that take ships to their ultimate doom. As she sits alone draped in golden robes, and pride. The inviolable lovers of the sea become forever a part of its salty realm.

- Johnny V.

Moms of Steel

Left in a berth not of her making, that found Cupid sad. Fate cast her in a tumult and unquiet role, where she would question her very soul.

Closer to her privateness she pulls the woolen scarf of those who came before. It has become her bower in times of perennial tears.

Long before Triton first blew his horn in the time of the old gods, women have been allotted this unique task. Armed solely with a silent lyre and told to bedight tiny angels left unnamed.

Her maddened brain is obscured by steel clouds, and carried by old wives. Yet she endures alone, and with a bewinged quietude, delivers once drunk children along destiny's cartroad to their glossy and red-litten success.

Left tangled in weeping vines, battling half witted men of primitive rank. Her voluptuous rage has left them rapt in tender hoverings. Forever seeking Virgil's counsel as offensive and simple minded paupers. While she with nimble toes, mellifluous sorrows, and ambrosia breath can call forth the divine armies.

Encumbered Souls

She enters as gently as a shadow upon the breath of God. But her undertow is harsh like an indignant empurpled hound.

To the world she exhibits her sovereign diadem as soft, ashen clouds post storm. But alone with her lovers she is a ghoul - haunted turret waiting to cumber their souls with her pettish tears.

She will never have to wrestle her future demons. For so many with the faith of northern brothers will from ebon ramparts, fight with blue and black thunder. She forever slumbers in her mansion of deception as those that love her lay dying in a shack.      

- Johnny V.

Sweetness

Although we were but two ships on a moonlit sail, her power over me is an aeonian flame. I claw and scrape at the speckled grey flesh, but to no gain, for it is her memory that torments my very being.

She has a sweetness which is both timeless and tantalizing, but gnaws the very whiteness of my smile. As vermin to rotting flesh. She will never allow me to stray far from her strength for her desires are gravid.
                                       
She understands she can live beyond her safety, for many blind to her danger will pacify her time and again.  She never need fear retaliation for an embattled soul hasn't the strength to pronounce sentence.

Knowing that she holds a past darker than the far end of the moon. Their love forever her's, and their empty tomb unwilling to seek a new passenger. So hence they remain a hollow vessel,  broken and damaged, for all who later may seek satisfaction.

-Johnny V.

God's Blind Spot

I huddle quietly in God's blind spot. Hoping to avoid his gaze. But he knows of my heartache, despite his refusal.       

I see my funeral pall unfurled and crisp. I become gorged on religious gloom, and send my sour prayers to a god dimissive of my endless pain.

My soul unloved, and rejected,  smiles and reeks of old lovers.

She bathed in mockery and a grey silence, laughs at my false heart. She is as the silk girl bringing gold, both beloved and bitter.

Long before the mighty squires of Athens fell, she was wise with a saber. Now her path littered with the faces of the nameless, and godless.

But I still fortune's fool, entombed and tottered in guilt, stand inside of Hell and stroke the ring of Lucifer.

-Johnny V.

Vivian's Voice

Her beauty rivals even Venus in her glory.
Her sublime and bediamond smile has often rendered gods mute.

The silence remains unbroken as sainted maidens keep watch over the slumbering rose.
Not a single murmur is captured, for quiet even are the wontonest birds.

The river lords of long ago speak fondly of her stubborn soul.
Her once folded wings, once ill-formed and pacified. Now, spirited and unyielding, are patulous toward the noontide.

She is enjeweled in shadowy sounds, as she sails the tumultuous sea.

-Johnny V.

Trust

I carry what's left of my dignity in my pocket like lost coins. For she has spent more than my minor trust could hold.

She treads clumsily across the dried hearts of previous lovers. Her walk remains undisturbed for her skill is   unequaled.

The boulevards are littered with those desperste for her wine flavored glance. Even when they understand it encludes drunken despair. For the wretch is too delicious to feed their empty hunger.

From above the sky changes her hue and rolls to sleep and exposes her darker sister. The doomed lovers with their teardashed eyes, empty,  and turned earthward, slowly gather the lost remains of forgotten tomorrows.

-Johnny V.

One Elect

I stand on the precipice no more steps to take. Directionless, and unclear, as a squire with no knight to serve, as a Lord in a bedazzled kirtle, and no maiden to entertain.

Her bastions of heavy booted, and overinduldged, phantoms of the dark, cross the rude bridge with but one task, my end. But I have too long been paralyzed, and will no longer knee at her altar of false desires.

She is an artificer, of deceit and can daily dun her followers until their purses are empty as the seventh daughter of the Atlas. Her melodious disdain for her lovers will forever be their Achilles heel.

They as I left with but one elect, death or endless torment. I refuse to return to her bed, where love grows spector thin and dies. Instead I bound into the abyss marking my birth not with a gentle splash but with a song.

-Johnny V.

Adios

Farewell
my sweet
delicate muse. Gently may you
pass thru
the guilded threshold of
devotion.

While sunk in awe
the old priest
charms the
chalice of depravity.
And l,
jostled
unkind
and seethed in damp solitude.

Forced
beyond
the true
vertical to renounce
the duty saddled
harp
of the homebound
sailor.

She
can grace
those
forced to shame
their wit
with muteness.
My heart
torn
just a sliver
to the
aged
requiem
as we drown
inside the
river of
hinterland.

-Johnny V.