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My Patron Saint Of Selves

I wasn’t meant for reality, but life came and found me. ― Fernando Pessoa 

A Darker Shade Of Pale

I walked the tapestry of a journey past
With its winding roads and stop sign codes;
Befriended 3 tires with abandoned tread
to make myself a camp on a junkyard bed.

I thought not of the sea, nor of the dead
but of the white trash Tao in my head.
I shared the night with rodents and rust
half-eaten spam and burnt pizza crust.

The fire I made for both warmth and light
did not burn to tame the wild mare of the night
And the dreams of an afterlife I did not trust
as anything but the illusions of the upper crust.

My fire burned within reach of my truth;
The future was gone, as gone as my youth.
Yet on my bed of tires my life did teach
that the sands of time was just a ravaged beach. 
I slept past sunrise for lack of a clock,
Then left the junkyard to walk on the dock.

I saw for a moment and yet did not see
the person in the water I once called me.
And I knew just then the lesson of life
That all would vanish but so few would arrive.

And the crashing waves upon life's shore?
Entertains one less day; not one night more
For the Tao is a book writing its own tale
Our private hells not withstanding -
A darker shade of pale.
- ©Jobe 2011
Great Poets Make Love. The Bad Ones Just Write About It. - Diego 'DaSun' Michaels

Sweet Kiss Of Death

Kissing Death Is The Bliss Of Me
In All That I Am And In All That I See
For In Kissing Death I Return To Thee
Together Again Both Dead And Both Free
One Undecomposing Finally
Jobe 2007

Self-Portrait 2007


When you listen but do not hear

-Video by Jobe

John Sidney Barrymore

Beautiful Mad Genius - Poet Extraordinaire 


To Aurora [Ad Auroram]

Aurora! Lovely Goddess of the Dawn,
Upon whose wings bright health and beauty borne
Sweep with delicious fragrance o'er the earth,
And gently waft to mankind joy and mirth.

Stay, heavenly Virgin, stay! Cannot our love
Constrain thee from our bower above?
Cannot our admiration of thy face
Prolong thy stay from thy celestial place?

Expectant nature hails thy bright approach,
Ans smiles all radiant at thy gentle touch
On high the song-bird, fain thy face to see,
Pours forth his soul in maddening rhapsody.

How often have I wished that western night
Would tarry and retard thy rosy flight,
That Heaven's gems around their King would cluster,
Afraid, lest you would rob them of their luster.

Or that thy span of winged steeds would flag,
Or trip, afrighted, o'er some treacherous crag.
Ah, stony-hearted Maid! that thou mightest fail!
But prayers, entreaties, threats, are no avail.

Like arch coquette she hides her blushing face
Amid the mazy folds of vapory fleece.
In high disdain she closely wraps her veil,
And turns deaf ears to Man's and Nature's wail.
Poem by John Barrymore 1897 - 14 years of age.


Blatherskite, bloodcurdling, blanket flower.
Meddling, nettling briar patch.
I am this windblown garden. Hoe.
Almost but not quite a tumbleweed.
© In Progess By Jobe
Yes, I still have to upload all of the content I lost here when I accidentally deleted the blog. No the world won't end if I never do. Poems are never really finished anyway.
Rainer Maria Rilke

Well Read

A Self Portrait

The Window

The window to my soul was shattered
into dark splinters and light chards of glass
though not one thing visible was left of it.
Not even the cracked wooden sill on which
my fading aura often perched grounded
with a broken and wingless chakra
like an amused crow not afraid of dying.
watching its own demise in others so curiously 
- Poem by Jobe
Bob Dylan

Oliverio Girondo 

All time becomes the last sand crystal in the hourglass when we breathe not again.


It was a wind song and still-moving
Like the sound of the ancient duduk
I named the composition Pausa
And lamenting, I failed the Prosody
Of a message lingering so faintly
Resounding in a deafening silence
That not all heart murmurs are verse.
- Poem by Jobe

Ancient Pictogram

It was a scrap of parchment. A thought.
A paragraph. An ancient Egyptian wind
Pyramid dust. Cat eyes. Scarab bracelets.
It was a Sand Storm; A Timeless Oracle
A Smoky Quartz and a Gold Sarcophagus
It was a Wardrobe and It was nothing at all.
- Poem by Jobe
Death by mind of Jung
Two hundred and six bone sticks
A graveyard library
- Haiku by Jobe
A past impromptu
Once upon a window time
A broken glass pane
- Haiku by Jobe

Trash Day

Love is not the key to the soul
It is not even a door to the heart.
Love is a dimly lit rental dumpster
that I emptied on the vacant street
In front of your paper weak house;
Between your old pick-up truck
and your old gold smoking yard dog.
City parking zones on trash day.
- Poem by Jobe

Buttons And Ropes

It is my shadow self in the book
upon Jung's shelf that no-one knows
But I have eleven buttoned archetypes
and one unbuttoned lost personality
Swinging from his hang man's noose.
That Freud will use for a necktie
On Sunday when I lend it to him
To watch him die pretzel-shaped
In a book of talking cancers.
O, thy intelligence was stunning.
- Poem by Jobe

So It Was Written

A breath that aims nowhere.
Pneuma within the god.
A zephyr visiting nine angels
In my waking hours.
The loves that I hate.
Are many within my twin flame.
- Unfinished Poem by Jobe

Dynastic Cat Lives

There was an earthquake today.
A palpitation of the heart.
Now Loki is dying a quiet death
and Time is the bed mate
of  Mafdets Claw and Eternity.
Oh cruel fate!
This is not a silent film.
It is not a fictional Universe.
It is not even 1927.
It is just a portal to the afterlife.
As many earthquakes are.
- Poem by Jobe


The Voces Nocturnas
In the Concertos 1 through 9. 
Are whispering prayer beads 
strung with mystery seeds
by 3 of the 7 libidinous muses.
showing the piano playing gods,
how to make use of their prayer bones
when composition fails them.

The kindred spirits of nature, 
and the ancestors hanging out
on the corner near the edge
with the future queen of hearts
who is drinking the blood of Jesus
Mad Dog 20/20 and a Bloody Mary
with red hot pepper sauce 
before hailing a crowded cab
to join her own funeral procession.

She demands, as a dame and a duchess does
an opera in 3 parts, with 1 tenor
and 5 arias; to placate the beads
which have strangled the piano player.
The queen knows that there is
a formidable shadow in the city
where the prophet disappears.
by hiding in plain sight.

The Street is vibrant in color.
It fancies itself related to the mystery
seeds, which only grown inward
And There are not enough stoops
for the pigeons who steal the beads.
So many unlocked doors! 
Inside of one tree, with three nails.
And a badly written howl
In the backseat of a runaway taxi.
- Poem by Jobe

On your journey you pass through the valley of weeping but you do not stay there. Here the commandment is to love one another. Life is not fair. It never was. It isn't now. And it won't ever be.


If I were an icicle
I would wish for myself
To die in summer
For to melt in winter
Would be disturbing.
- Poem by Jobe


In Six Words

Studio 1 Eye Below.  
Sub-transient View.
- Poem by Jobe

Charles Baudelaire

Dandelion green
No wind blown seed or wishes
Meadow Destruction
- Haiku by Jobe
Nine Universe O'clock
Ticking Past Earth and Stardust
Escaping The Hour
- Haiku by Jobe

Worn Out Pages Anew

Beer gardens on the Bowery
Quietus, ever vigilant on the skids.
The gutters are the wine cellars
into which all hope descends.
The ghost of Johnny Brooklyn
fallen footsteps in  the snow;
A hundred dreams are written;
Wordless thoughts in decay do grow
Into wilted roses and empty pockets too.
Drunken poets; with a day full of holes;
Laureates, writing holy words of wine,
Scribbled daily in worn out pages anew;
The ever decomposing petals of doom.
Shattered men in delirium
like bottles are broken and strewn.
Never a sober thought inopportune.
The death of  existence one shot at a time
Is another subterranean narrative
Of dipsomania in bloom.
- Poem by Jobe

The bar of soap ain't disappearing
And tomorrow is on the take.
Breathless Code Purple
A Perilously Brick Night
Street Cemetery
- Haiku by Jobe

3 Haikus

Unwanted lone star
Without a shining life path
Time unrelenting
- Haiku by Jobe

Epicurean toad
In poetry in school on road
Written in black ink
- Haiku by Jobe

Forgotten lives past
Coffins made of blood and earth
Dead humanity
- Haiku by Jobe

Portrait Drawn

A cypress branch.
A kiss. A grave.
A sword was drawn
much like a portrait.
As the night
Cast her death
Upon the picture book.
- Poem by Jobe

5 Haikus

Ancient Half Moon
Silver Crescent Sun Rising
Five Druid Star Signs
- Haiku by Jobe

I Am Many  Knots
Lone Celtic Winged Person
Crow Entanglement 
- Haiku by Jobe

Walking From Left To Right
Seven Half Steps Down The Stairs
A Light House Journey
- Haiku by Jobe

Fragrant Lilac Tree
Flowering Enchanted Spring
A Thousand Purple Blooms
- Haiku by Jobe

Black Garnet Necklace
Silver Chain Dangling Broken
Missing Keepsake Lost
- Haiku by Jobe

September's End

Upon the pages
which are my years.
He disappeared
like Petőfi in the fog.
Mourning strong.
- Poem by Jobe