Jason Fairhurst Wall
@forever_is_always_now
I write poetry; it is the one form of art that enables me to speak without restraints.
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Is Whom Around in Where
Existence is a mist of whom we do insist she stay around, but in her ground is where we end our trist. Jfw
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467
Amor Crucifixus
the places of ache are not easily revealed until veils recede at the behest of nightfall and then comes dismemberment sinews of craving clipped and stripped unrectified of their purposes while tawdry clouds of thought stay unwanted and unwelcome the seamstress draws breath knowing well that alone she owns the steely thread that unconditionally could salvage this impunity but only open eyes can see the justice of such a love Jfw
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515
Kill This Fire
I will not let them kill this fire; the flames will rage a little higher.
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499
Untitled
For everything we know a million queries hang like echoes in the balance creating quite the pang. Jfw
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429
Untitled
some would talk about your wings and you could think of other things diversion from the pain it brings the days of old and conquered kings while others laugh about your plight your stolen dreams and stolen might plucked from you about midflight a scolded vision in the night still they speak like you were dead or decomposing in your bed it does not matter what is said yet Someone speaks whose blood was shed: the time has come for you to rise to fly again among the skies to rid your lungs of desperate sighs to say goodbye to your goodbyes Jfw
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446
Charms of the Flesh
They hang from my neck like reminders of innocence lost, never-had, regained; a life once-fully-immersed inside gems of blind degredation... and wonder now consumes me. A subtle patience fills me: one born and brewed long ago- detracted and derailed in a countless measure... but it now fills me. All has been tested. All has been tried but love unwavering- both staid and unconditional... and though the gems remain, they serve as a greater reminder: I was never what I had become. And now, I let that suffer and fade. And I can live above the charms- for I have been Remade. Jfw
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431
Held in a Dream That Never Was
One can swiftly fantasize of anything they wish: to pine and flail - romanticize - and serve it on a dish. One can quickly tire of everything they've known, or one can set a fire and live the life they own. Jfw
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443
Sonnet of the Wish
To wish is like a vacuum in the core of those who feel the Music incomplete; without the Sea the sand knows not the shore. Within, the warring ends in vain defeat. The sword cannot be had without the Sheath, as sharp as it may seem to all opposed. In motion is the heart of One beneath the leather of distrust that he composed. And Poetry, once faithful, now derails from empty tracks of iron, tried and kissed. The Verse of hollow meter tries and fails like chances never had and never missed. The eager heat of men who love and lose? (It rises in the silence of the Muse.) Jfw
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436
The Fading of Green
It occurs when the mind is still and the eyes become transfixed... on lessons much more important than mere aging. It happens if the conditions in which becoming naked again will not escape our naked attention. Only what you bring to it will bleed and follow through; for with the fading of green, what changes most is you. We view us in a mirror dimly lit. Plumes of smoke surround our sights to see. In poverty, I come. In poverty, I see. In poverty, I become. In poverty, I become seen. I am seen, not for that which has corroded me, but for all that erodes my shameful, shaming shames. No more names. Let's drift away, together, in that sense of shameless unity- of profundity. Of, to them, profanity. From profane to great, only we will be seen in the dimly lit mirror, on pages written once, through the aging of our bodies... in the fading of green. (And we will truly be seen.) Jfw
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648
sin
sin my best guess at a definition from human experience is that which makes you feel empty and disjointed after its commission jfw
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495
Similar Eyes
I saw someone today that had similar eyes to yours; and I felt a remarkable sting going into my own eyes, down into my heart where it burned for awhile. The sting resumed and rose upward, making its way back to these eyes of mine, that at this very moment shed tears. Jfw
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558
For What Will you be Known?
For What Will you Be Known? I think about it often, and yes, my life is much like a book; and even though that book is within arm's reach, yearning to be read and understood, many will never read it, and still some will perhaps casually peruse one chapter...maybe two, believing they know it in its entirety. Read, unread, or misread... the only thing for which I yearn to be known consists of only four letters and just one syllable; I think you understand. Jfw
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432
Blatant Stain
I've had my share of pain,        and now, here comes the rain   to rinse me of the heartache        that left it's blatant stain.                Jfw   
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346