Poetry of Jonny Alexander Nay

 No one is calling my name anymore,  from the back of the house, where lilac, blooms our boisterous achievement.    good to know you!  to close to understanding.  or realization maybe?  no way, it's just as it is.    A spiritual concept: seasons.  

 I don't know how all of this stuff, got spread out over time like this.  I swear I was trying to meet where you were at, but I got selfish, in asking you to go out and enjoy the sunset.  Just once, you heathen.    I cause something, you see as pernicious.   and something is lost between us.  something close to the sunset,  or the jump between, enjoyment.    when we getting close to talking: really...  it was a fault? no way.   not all that bad.   

The mountains swell and lay constant everthere grows tress I remember through which water flows this is beyond vision hides there in the unseen exists, pulsing, beating, inebriated on blood and water. A natural law Everything is bowing sways in the current of earth's orbit I am in awe She has given up the cross remarking, "Don't you wish you could grab that there, hold it somewhere close inside of you, forever." Why even answer?  

They have bright little cans,  A prehistoric green.  Tanks of crustaceans,  snacks like some chips and salsa.  Ice-cream, pops,  Piantas on the top self,  Next to hats, belts, And curly dresses for young girls With tails, ribbons of a deep red.  By the counter there’s a woman whose beautiful skin, Is brown, and has a pot of flowers,  That i’d like to buy to walk home with.

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The arm, that moves, to wait. is harm. The light that shines is day. Part of this, is true, but who will dare to say?

I, bomber of an ancient rhythm, the fallen sun, and the sunken rung. And the hurt, and hurted, mastery. I am can undergo. But I cannot undertake, my masters wishes. Because of the faith, that it displays, on itself. The master is the best of the best, and it's not within me to judge, his curtailing, and forgoing. I am the messenger, of the old, way. I am the esteemed, and the crop, and the cream. And I candidly, decline. I do not shake, or shine, my way, Like so many of us had, their holdings, displaced, and had their lives most completely, and totally, and utterly, destroyed. I am the light, that falls, on walls, and the only thing, which stands in the way. I am cursed, but I am fair, and I lost, and Sig-none-Fair I am in my mind, a lot these days. I am not but I can dare.