St. Valentine’s Shadow

•February 14, 2018 • Leave a Comment

And on that Wednesday, a rhapsody between
the sheets, when two lovers shared warmth,
for a time long forgotten, but even in the
years that each carried heavy in their heart,
neither could replace the other’s love, their
truest spirit a release of joy, like odes to
indescribable beauty, sung in tongues of dirty
dialect, twisted through each era and eon,
none other, no opus to cry out loud, yowl
on a fence in August, flounce in front of
their faces each season, no; no ugly forces
sit in governance, just trust and pleasure,
nothing ever to replace it, no wedge betwixt;
fair is the love of human animals who hold
passion above all else, no sickly void can
wrap its disfigured fingers ’round cherubic
encumbrance, sitting fat and proud on a
cloud in February, robust its arrow, so frail
the panted, opaque message it carries afar,
so dirty the town it ferries you from, to;
so merry the lovers that day, rapt together
until the ceiling come crashes down, and
morning tears the tape with one swift pull

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A Songbird’s Heart

•February 9, 2018 • Leave a Comment

After the hundredth birdsong sung,

on a morning draped with fog,

a crow landed

on the chimney’s top

and chased all the sparrows to fly

away from home,

like bastards of youth

learning skills to earn their bread,

mustering troops to war,

beating

a drum in March,

when the grass will return

in spring,

and the birds will come

again to lull us into our morning;

evening twilight vocations;

mom and dad swing the hammer,

while

baby bird lusts over food,

swaddled

inside,

a warmth like a lung, as the

crows circle and wait,

distance is

a culling,

divine and serene,

but night has an evil way of distancing

hearts and numbing heads,

so take up arms

birds of song,

fights crows

until their beaks plunder no more,

and your sweet sounds call Easter

to the front of war,

singing the

praise of change as sweetly

as it has ever been done before

Twist the Blade

•January 22, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Once more, one more effort,

when the month ended, that

one year, I held the knife in

front of the mirror, five year

old shaver, thrust into adult

hood, collapsed below weight,

in a mouth of madness, no safe

nor sane person in sight, just

a slap, a push, ruffians ramble,

but in summer I tried, sunken

in tanning oil, through screen

doors, supplanted, my wits,

a crass game, summer trouble,

I’ll forget you one day, when

the mirror finally breaks, when

I sink, sullen blackened body,

gored like smut, moot at once,

flowers sink sweet, and die

in rhapsody, sick benign death,

vanity in repose, propose to me,

through smoke and fire, and

let me finally tell this story,

this romance, aloft on craggy

cliffs, asunder and burning

bright, no moonlight leading,

no daylight bleeding, and in

the corner, back to the world,

tiny body, tiny heart, alone.

Patreon

•January 18, 2018 • Leave a Comment

I made a Patreon account. It was surprisingly painless. I encourage any aspiring writer/poets/artists to consider doing the same.

https://www.patreon.com/Shawnyoung

Sweetheart

•January 4, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Grimshaw - Scarborough Yew Court

It’s chilly in here, she said

to his mouth; teeth jagged

like small rocks in a line,

too many layers to count,

craggy stalactites meant to

work for her; their breath

fluffy in the air, equations

in iambic, solutions, fictive,

in special situations, math

a true language, he thought,

smothered in dirt, soiled in

truth; so they passed the can,

once to the room, again in

the aftermath of misgiving:

a maven of momentum, like

a pilot steering clouds, like

she was gone again, again,

he thought, the stairs treads

passable yet steep, the trip

smelted in collapsible color,

the bedroom melting under

stammering motion, the bed

still warm, hot to the touch,

his voice ringing out in the

darkest desert, hidden camps

Bedouins bragging, shook,

shaken, awakened, monsters

travel fast, brains are daffodils,

lit by sunny explosions, night

bothers terror, tears dripping,

frozen, specious, magnets for

dust, tonight may never end.

Amazon Books

•January 3, 2018 • Leave a Comment

Thank you to everyone who has bought my books on Amazon in the past. You are all awesome as awesome can be. Genuinely. I can’t thank you enough. I have spent the last few years focusing all of my energies on my personal writing, and it has been incredibly rewarding, if not mentally taxing and stressful all at once, but every time someone appreciate what I do, I am humbled and grateful.

Anyway, for anyone who has recently followed me, or for anyone who just didn’t know at all, I have 7 poetry chapbooks on Amazon that are all only .99 (free for Kindle Unlimited members), all of which were self-published by me.

It’s not much, but please, if you have not done so, consider throwing some spare change my way so that I know that I am doing something right! Every little bit helps (not just monetarily, but also emotionally).

Thank you one and all, and have a wonderful and prosperous 2018.

Here’s the raw link for those who need it: amazon.com/author/shawnmyoung

Shut Down and Closed Up

•December 21, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Garroted rope to the throat,

though kingly men sit smug,

high on placated cloth, held

and hold the end tight, as we

are dangling above the pit,

“too soon, too soon;” shudder

under the gutter, blended up

in the rudder, as an orange dog

feeds on cotton candy legs, shaved

apes play stakes with our

dates; I shut the door, I ask

for more, and with a pen tip

black-

              blood-

                          drips,

                                     saturated

paper costly = mistakes, and

you die alone again, like a man

once said; no ambulance to call,

evil mandates soured by the

hour, wrinkly motherfuckers

ruin sanctity of power, for money

and oil and greed, and the dead

get deader, no matter how many

times the phone chirps, you got

what you paid for this time, and

the graves will overflow with

the bodies of the poor, pissed on

once more, for a percent on a

check, and a clear coat on the Jag.