Babe

     She remains unseen for well-nigh one circled journey of earth across the sun. Those awaiting her arrival speak only of the possibleness of her beauty. They spent countless, nervous and cool nights praying that she will enter their sanctuary as strong as Venus in her meridian. Many were the moments of both fright and joy when God did check their fortitude without completion.

      Then one soulless thunder occupied eve movement is at last palpate. He like a soldier to his post is quick to measure his duty. Although well practiced he is clumsy with his tasks and she smiles through her pain. The interval to those who shall aide in the passage is short yet to them time stands quiet.

       The clock ticks off with great pain and fear leaving the crowd at times unsure if the tiny angel's journey will be successful. But God has trust in this radiant spirit so she enters loud and fresh.now wrapped in mother's clutch she is still as a whisper yet creates outcries of happiness with a single glance.

-Johnny V.

Cradle of Regret

     Once I craddled regret in my hands but as I brought it to my lips it tasted bitter and rotten. So confine regret away from your plateau, dine ye on mercy and love. I laid anger in my bowl but it was flavorless and stale, I pushed it aside and served forgiveness, suddenly my pallet was chock-full and sweet. Then I was constrained to sip of despair  but it fell dry upon my tongue. Finally filled my cup with the milk of tenderness.

 

      Today I put aside infantile emotions and painful aesthetics. Today I sour my mind to unthankful spirits. I regret those unable to verbalize of grace. My soul can no longer ingest these, it cannot be sustainedon emptiness and fear. I willnot consent my heart to wither upon the vine of false pride. Leave my aspect any and all who doubt my purpose or refuse my hearth. For I have come too far to accept only cold and causal agency.

-Johnny V.

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Poverty

They look to heaven with prospect ladder eyes, as the frigid wind cuts across their tattered garments.  Their earthly concern ends at the nearest school-yard, although their dreams may surpass the universe's knowledge.  However, here they are forgotten left like beggars in the snow. Lost inside a winter fog, unaware the news of summer's escape.

Ignored and abandoned youth ensnared twixt life and death, never to interpret to which path they belong. They are dispatched to the libraries of those in command, while the book of answers is kept hidden from their sight. Still they are asked to thrive in a creation where resolutions are equal with strength and control.

Those who hold the power will place the book within nurseries of their own result. Teaching the inhabitants to ridicule and scorn those who lag behind. Instructing they must shun and reject their unfamiliar plight, for fear it should envelope all.

-Johnny V.

Velvet Scent

Her beauty can set ablaze the frozen winter night. My veneration to her is boundless and complete. She alone brings joy to the darkest sapience of my tragic strength. She affords me but a brief moment to hold and taste her joyous smile. When done and my fill is had it was if I lived well beyond God’s plan.

                But that glorious and fleeting savour of her was greater than any addiction a soul could bear. For with each sip she fed my weak being and too my desire to be nearer. She could enrich my poverty by her very companion. It takes but her gentle carom and my fears are at once rendered orphans and will roam as vagabonds far from my stead.

                I am therefore in her eternal debt owing her my port of salvation. Yet not a single tally doth she scribe, for as each day ends my transgressions she wipes clean. Each new dawn with blank slate I bid her true pleasures bring, and caress her sweet grace in my velvet scented hands.

-Johnny V.

Pained Creature

The frail, wooden ferry drifts past my station. Charon’s purse is heavy with my gold. Yet he will not stop and await my board. I will not make the river crossing this night, for my duties on this side remain unfinished. I first, God claims must forgive the cruelty she imparted to me, but this I cannot do. For then I must concur that harm and mal-thought were in her mind. Defeated thought it may be my heart is unwilling to accommodate her infliction. I must also accept that she is less than I believed flawless and precious.

She, like others before, is a bruised and pained creature of the Lord, with no desire to return to me. So hopelessly I linger trapped partly in both worlds but incompetent to join in the joys granted by either. I am but a surveyor, an observer of happiness and love enjoyed by others and pulled far beyond my grasp.

-Johnny V.

Love's Sojourn

Her articulation is but an echo within the wintry walls of my empty heart. I am no longer allowed to hear her false charms which once encouraged me blindly into a fresh Hell. I have moved beyond the matrons of prudence, their reprove harms me not. I will no longer give tongue and howl in the darkness. My anguish will not draw tears from eyes unfamiliar.

My delight for what is to come holds fast to its willowy mast. For this is a journey that has felt my charriot's wheels many a solar day.  I have passed this occasion more than I can remember. By chance it will become my endmost sojourn.

-Johnny V.

Courage

Impotent is he to filter the danger from the joy she provides his comfort. Yet she will not earmark even a sliver of the cognition to understand the difference. Her scent forever burned into the cryptic tumblers of his heart. But her mocking betrayal weighs heavy upon his soul, leaving it bland, dry, and awant for acceptance.

                Her cruelty will not encumber his stand atop the hill of passion, nor can she use her tyrannical sway to stifle his freedom to flee his brutal situation. So with renewed strength he can lay low the ramparts which she has held secure, and make weak her power to capture the whispers of mirth. His once weak limbs now bastioned with the impassioned flood of courage.

                He will however not taste the way she bleeds, for his mightiness extends beyond the ghosts in his head. He knows that life can be and imperfection confessed which atones prior sinful deeds. He considers that only desire lies deep within her cold heart of fame so he departs on impudent gossamer wings to become the thief of newly spoken dreams.

-Johnny V.

Blistered Hearts

        The apathy of the night’s sleep is inflated by the howls of the deep winter hounds. They squall with loneliness knowing only God’s reflective light. For they, like I are among the creator’s mishaps. Ignored as he dotes upon those made opulent by his grace. So we roam unnoticed, and spurned until blame and punishment are needed to unburden the beautiful.

 

        Ignorant are we to the fears we create in those so deeply loved. Their inclination to leave us only the menial of tasks, then brushed aside as a flower of lint clinging to her skirts. So we the lunatic fringe crawl along the dark and angry thoroughfares desperate for even and neglected brass farthing, trodden underfoot.

 

Left then with blistered hearts, spoiled and yellow with age. God’s laughter at my pain familiar as a lover’s touch across my thirsty ungentle skin, cold as a spinster left at the altar. Weeping copious tears while the stingy gadfly turns dumb and paralyzed with love.

-Johnny V.

Nectar'd Kisses

Her smile brightens the vastness of my prison of disposition. Only her unequaled touch can prevent me a mortal sin. To her I owe my egress from a decent toward madness. I hold her heart to my dignity and beg to remain forever within her ardent sight. Her regard can turn my Spartan furiousness to Athenian humour, and her nectar’d kisses turn my stale flesh to rose scented vegetation.

-Johnny V.

Unwashed Queen

Desire presents to me her boney and faltering hand, gloved in childish joys. I take it wanting to amend my cheerless dreams, but tis for naught for my heart is a vacant chair dusted and weak from years of ill-use. The old and unwashed queen sits alone at her brittle and peckish throne. I kneel before her unholy gaze, which is indifferent as the hermit amoung the crowds.

The orb of day begins its climb. I see only the speck that will cloud my joy. Small and meaningless to others my darkness wanders thru the wickets of my spirit. Yes my dimpled cheek may smile but nothing but her embrace will ever gladen my garden. Rejection dooms me to walk the gallows wrapped in the petty shroud of inconstant affection.

-Johnny V.