The Heart of Human Being

The sun will still be rising
The sun will go to bed
For another 7 billion years
After I am dead.

And the world will take 6.999
9999 billion less
To lose every single record
Of all that my life ever meant.

I wonder after all that time
In all expanding space
Will there ever be found anything
As lovely as your face?

And in all those empty eons
After our sun's been consumed
Will there be any conscious creature
Who understands this empty room?

So I find my knees and I find my voice
And I beg God for relief.
But the thought occurs that maybe first
I should beg God for belief.

I don't need to know the future
But I'm trying to find some peace.
And I'd like to think, after we're all dead
There might still be some living thing.

That thinks and hears and understands
Why the humans sing.
That sees and feels and understands
The heart of human being.

Pearls

Sometimes I'm an oyster and sometimes you're a bird, and sometimes
While I'm making pearls you're out flying into windows, and I think
How is it that you never see these things coming?
True I'm careful, you say too careful, well I don't know
But the thing about pearls is that they are awful patient work,
It may take months, it my take years, but
You've got to take your time to get it right.

And sometimes I'm an oyster and sometimes you're a bird, and sometimes
While I'm making pearls you're out shitting all over statues, and I ask
Why can't you keep these things to yourself?
I don't share a lot, maybe there's not a lot to share, I don't know
But the thing about pearls is that they are awful private work,
I could never really share them until they're ready, cause
you can never really show them until they're done.

And sometimes I'm an oyster and sometimes you're a bird, and sometimes
While I'm making pearls you're out swarming with your flock, and I hope
One day you'll learn to be OK on your own.
You say I don't get out much, well where is there to go, I don't know
But the thing about pearls is that they're awful lonely work, Believe me
I wish I could find something worthwhile to do
That didn't mean sitting at the bottom of the ocean by myself.

But sometimes I'm an oyster and sometimes you're a bird, and sometimes
I know you hate it when I close myself so tight, but I swear
If you ever get me open...
Then I'll die.

I wish you understood, that if I could,
I would gladly go regurgitate some worms
If it meant that I could fly.
If it meant that we'd belong,
If it meant that I could soar by your side, but sometimes,
I am an oyster,
And well the thing is...

I've got this pearl that I've been working on.

- J. S. Guy

HERE IS A FUNNY POEM THAT I WROTE A LONG TIME AGO BUT I NEVER POSTED IT BUT NOW I AM POSTING IT AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT OH AND BY THE WAY IT IS A HAIKU

One, Two, Three, Four, Five
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Se...
onetwothreefourfive

Justice

The next time you think that the world is not fair remember that she:




Is going to look like this:




Take that girls. That's what you get for pretending you don't hear me when I sit next to you on the metro and say hi. I bet those ear buds aren't even connected to anything...

I Am a Special Kind of Coward

I am a special kind of coward

I have all the warm and soft bits
the bits that sing the songs,
and hug and kiss and love
and laugh laugh laugh
and do all the joyful dancing

and I have the wet and weighty bits
the bits that cry the tears
and hope and hurt and dream
and bleed bleed bleed
and do all the heavy longing

but I lack the nut-and-bolty bits
the bits that pay the bills
or earn or plan or save
or 8 to 5 to 8 to 5 to 8 to 5
or do all the busy marching

and here is where the fear begins
"the marching"
like maybe I'm just half a man
like all the juicy fleshy parts
but none of the skeleton

which is why I say I'm spineless

- J. S. Guy

I Just Can't See the Difference

So what if it is Halloween?
Don't really care about Halloween.
Everybody loves Halloween
But all I see
Are people pretending to pretend to be
The things they really are.

Maybe you will see some devil girls
With devil horns, and devil tails
Or perhaps you will see a sexy cat
Or a sexy nurse, or something worse.
But there are whores on other days
That barely dress and paint their face
Bitter hearts and bitter taste
Behind a mask of perfume and lace
Their lips are red, their eyes are black
And they can't get their virginity back
Even if it is Halloween.

So what if it is Halloween?
Don't really care about Halloween.
Cause all I see
Are people Pretending to pretend to be
The things they really are.

Maybe you will see some spooky ghosts
Or zombies walking with the undead hosts
This Halloween there might just be
Some mummy men, or a skeleton.
But the undead walk on other days
They march along at a steady pace
Soulless crowds without a face
That come and go without a trace
Stone white ghosts in a hollow shell
Wading through their own private hell
Not quite sick, definitely not well
In a cloud of numbness that they can't dispell
Even if it is Halloween.

So what if it is Halloween?
I just can't see the difference.

- J. S. Guy

Me? Bitter?

So I saw and ambulance on my way home tonight and it inspired me to write this poem which I call:

I Saw an Ambulance on My Way Home Tonight

I saw an ambulance on my way home tonight
And all I could think was
Please, please, please...
Please let it be her.

Let it be her.
Let it be her with blood flowing.
Let it be her, wrists cut, neck broken.
Please, please, please...

- J. S. Guy

Then I wrote another poem which I called:

I Blew The Candles Out on The Cake and Wished That You Would Hang Yourself

I blew the candles out on the cake and wished
That you would hang yourself.
But even thinking of you like that
Made me feel like throwing up.
I'm so damn sick of knowing you're out there
Thinking, feeling, breathing.
I'll do it myself if I have to.

Eat sh@# and die Bi%$#,
Eat sh@# and die!

- J. S. Guy