jenaroaragon

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A poor man caught between his bitterness and his submission. An uprooted vagabond, whose only possession is his labor power.

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  • jenaroaragon 4w

    A poor man arrested by contradiction.
    Hostility and acquiescence.
    The poet sonders, for a moment seeing clearly the displaced vagabonds,
    Who own only the power of their labor.
    Remembering the pleasures of fresh air and clarity,
    Rejecting them,
    Crushing the flower,
    Bringing the pipe to his lips,
    The poetry gathers.
    He is no longer a tourist in creation.
    No heavenly residence,
    The poet wanders,
    Taking a moment to breath deeply,
    Forgetting the pleasures of fresh air and clarity,
    Replacing them,
    Crushing the flower,
    Bringing the pipe to his lips.
    The poetry squandered.
    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 10w

    I would like to be wise and dumb.
    Hard, but genial, kind, and agreeable.
    Self sufficient and separated from society,
    Unknowing and so unfeeling it's bestial
    Savagery.
    Selfish.
    Enough to disturb another's course.
    Trusting.
    Enough to let them shape me.
    Ignorant of evil.
    Believing in good.
    Living a lie.
    Fully alive.
    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    Abandoned

    The windows are left unmended.
    A breeze whistles through,
    and flaking paint,
    Disperses.
    The garden is left untended.
    Flowers strain for light,
    and finding none,
    Close up.
    Bird houses are still suspended.
    Bluejays sleep soundly,
    And all is well.
    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    Tired and Frustrated

    Wasted youth spins round in it's grave.
    Ignorance exploited.
    Sacrificed for peace in old age.
    Tired and frustrated.
    No drive left to face the day.
    No time to see our friends.
    No one willing to admit
    How nigh the end is.

    Digging through the graves of our youth,
    Reward belated.
    No better off. No closer to truth.
    So plastics traded.
    Puckered fingers, slowing hearts,
    Sifting through the filth.
    Mumbling nothings to ourselves.
    Tired and frustrated.

    No name carved into the gravestone,
    Nobody knew him.
    No one welcomed him into their home.
    None disabused him.
    Night after night, and day after day.
    And see what we become?
    Lesson unlearned, continuing on,
    Tired and frustrated.

    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    Overtaking us,
    Reality surged forward,
    Routing misplaced faith.


    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    I can say no more.
    In my throat, a crack is heard.
    In my eyes, nothing.

    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    Life being pain,
    Fantasy ensnares.
    D&D tomorrow?

    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    I inhale and cough,
    Spluttering the cherried flame.
    Burning Xerxes shirt

    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    Aragon

    You ask me, father, for what sin apology is required. Let me tell you.
    Chief among my indignation is the revelation of Steven. Born to you after Kyle, but not to my mother.
    And I so young understood, then, only a little, but later an epiphany of betrayal
    Preyed upon my understanding.
    Antinatalists rambling in furor.
    Ravens preaching from atop the cupola.
    Brought into the world,
    Though you could not afford,
    And knowing already that you did not love her.
    Then after me, you brought forth another.
    And they were no less involved in ruin.
    This you ask in front of your wife, and in cultish tones mistake your fear
    For offense.
    Since I refused to answer, unless you came alone.
    You betray a desire to rest
    Against a simple doctrine of supplication.
    I recognize in myself the same sin,
    Though I still fight,
    Spiteful,
    When manipulated.
    Genes which ought never to have been passed down.
    Aragon.
    You should have known better.
    You should have done better.
    You should have been better.
    And though you inherited pains of your own,
    All is not so easily forgiven.
    Selah

    Your crimes get more specific though.
    So here, for free, a bit of rope.
    Just enough to do the job, whatever you decide.
    Swing.
    Or pull yourself up.
    Either will satisfy.
    I recall the day of my grandmother's funeral, to which I bussed and walked alone, seething, across two towns, refusing to let my love remain unknown. For I was uninvited.
    By name!
    And from whence this spineless lashing came?
    We'd been on unpleasant terms. You and I, not grandma,
    Because I didn't get along with your wife,
    Who made the whole ordeal about her, storming off into the parking lot,
    Sharon completely unremembered.
    And mere months later, this question was uttered, with pretensions of confused indignation.
    Though, after all this my namesake was buried in secret, I'll still tell you the rest, and,
    Against my better judgement,
    Offer the chance of forgiveness,
    If you come alone,
    Ready to listen.
    Able to repent.
    Selah

    ©jenaroaragon

  • jenaroaragon 11w

    Antediluvian

    Demonic offspring

    They turned away

    Interbred

    Sinners

    Drowned

    Never again by flood

    ©jenaroaragon