Walking the Corridor

Green Light I am not you You are not me We are not each other So we both should be Accepting of our differences As trying as it seems For everyone is ignorant To what they have not seen J.M.Rogers

Blossom You can bloom Whenever you want to Just open up your eyes So you can see the light Because it's all around you Green, and red, and orange and blue  The indigo surprise Hides within a yellow sunrise  So lift up those violet eyes And you will bloom, bloom, bloom, bloom J.M. Rogers

Under Bough Resting beneath the boughs of Old King Grey Band  as he sheds his morning dew.  Telperion's blood runs through those glorious green groves of newly budded acorns,  and the drops of silver that fall from swollen branches sate me  with hopeful fertility,  from which visions and sounds shall spring forth,  separate and yet a part of my mind.  It is fated that we share ourselves,  for where would I sit if not beneath you, Old Grey Band?  The Twins aspire to be a ladder,  and the daughters need space to conjure green blades from white sands.  And to the Lady Pearline, I shall not go,  for she seeks to leave,  to wander,  and so she pulls her roots up high and pushes the soil aside.  Her toes dig into the Earth, but not for foundation,  but rather in preparation for the great dance  that she will have when her feet are free, and the moon is full.  The nightingales sing of her,  and so I ...

On The Road to Jessamine Three pretty maidens  Floated on green With milk-white dresses Golden at seam.  They sang of the road, 'Good ol' Jessamine,' Their voices a chorus Their faces a dream.  J.M. Rogers

Moonglow  Up there you sit Shimmering through The darkness of night, A twilight blue. Down here I stare From distant view Entranced by your sight, A pearl-ish hue. J.M. Rogers

Shadows Along the Way As my eyes focus,  They find confusion In an endless box of sight and sound. A simple creation, A mass delusion The quasi-intellectual hang around. Perhaps in days Both distant and bright,  We beheld something truly new. But, in this era Of technological splendor The luster seems to fade from view. The sun still spins,  According to Bret, My weather informant of the day. So I'll take his word, And quietly imagine  The shadows painted along the way.  Of the paths I once walked,  And the dogs that had barked, Their movements cast in silhouette Of the changing weather That I used to know better,  Riding the air on an old swing set. As my eyes focus They find confusion  In a godless box of information. This harmless fun Has replaced the sun, Illuminating every station. J.M. Rogers

  Busy Bodies   Lives full of distraction And absent of purpose A nucleus of doubt Sown beneath smiling surface. Hearts starved for attachment, So willing to service, The false king laying claim To all of their choices. J.M. Rogers

  Torchbearer Never forgotten, She carries the flame That ignites my memories With each passing day. J.M. Rogers

  Lullaby Awakening from stygian dreams Forced to face their truth alone  Lost within bleak imagery The final days of hearth and home O' fevered pitch, black prophecies, The endless hells consuming thee, Please release my weary bones Spare my heart your sullen songs. J.M. Rogers

  Wild   Blue eyes gloss as you stare through me, White-knuckled hands trapped within my own. My pained attempts to clutch you tight Drive deep the wedge, a rosy thorn. Your smile still shows despite the beat Of restless heart eager to fly; The pulse of something incomplete That will not quiet, will not lie. O' fickle queen, how far you roam To chase the voice of that which leads, While helplessly I cling to hope That your blue eyes look back to me. J.M. Rogers  

  Anti-Hero Rage is a cage But within I am free. To chase the woes of yesterday; The pains that time cannot erase. Rather bear the scar than assuage The abuse on tense holidays When children’s voices held no sway And his shackles pinned us down. Rage is a cage, But within, I am free To avenge the sins of wicked days. Broken hearts have bitter ways. J.M. Rogers

  She Calls She calls me a liar And a cheat, Our love no longer sweet, As I wrap her in brier Arms that beat Red droplets of carnal heat. How we clung to that fire, A passion replete, Of lust, and thus, I feel her retreat.   She calls me a liar And a sneak As tears run down her cheeks. So, I shower her in dire Kisses that leech The color from her feat-ures. How I cling to desire, But her, to the sheets Love lost to lust,  the cycle repeats. J.M. Rogers

  Smoker Yellow-stained stench That clings to your lips You reek of white sticks And browned fingertips. But in your defense, You’re addicted to this. So, I’ll pity your kids When your heart finally quits. J.M. Rogers

  Retrograde   How you glimmer and fade Spark ebbing away Shimmer dimming to shade...   Flicker, flicker J.M. Rogers

  Vision You look through me And I, through you Two lookers looking With opposite views. A watchman at post And a lover at pew, Forever searching, But the never the two -- Shall meet. J.M. Rogers

  Clean Slate Let me in, Or let me go, Purgatory again But time to blow. This is no classic case, This is a basket-laced With regret. A gift to return, A love to forget. J.M. Rogers

  04.04 I see a smile upon a face   and think that it is yours. I hear a voice on summer days belonging to a boy Whom, I had known some years ago, a brother and a friend, but in his glaring absence I am forced to comprehend That time is no good friend to me with no remorse for fallen tears, No fleeting trace of sympathy, just hours trapped in hopes an fears. Fond memories, however fair, Cannot replace the loss of love, But all the same, I do not care To end the pain, becoming numb. Once again, I hear his voice, but I know now it is merely mine, reminding me of the sweet boy that I can never leave behind . J.M.Rogers