A psychosis fuelled rant followed by a calming, poem by a master.
My homage to Mark Twain upon reading Letters From The Earth. I wrote a letter myself addressed to a select few concerning my time living amongst Mankind.
Let not the excess of lusts and comforts mislead you as they have the sheep of this hellscape, miasma, painted in this poem.
A little prose poem that I wrote as a freshman in high school that I still enjoy reading from time to time. Enjoy!
Sonnet by Stephen J. Dawson Jr. Her loving words comfort and dance off her tongue To trickle down poetry perched on her chest They blanket her curves and exalt them in song So, I gave them my ear, let my heart convalesce She looked inside me, her stare was wide-eyed She read all my scars... Continue Reading →
The Man Who Swallowed Himself by Stephen J. Dawson Jr. These are an old man's last dying words, Lined in absurdity of voices he's heard, "To my unnotice, my heart beats so still With a filling, if absent, still much harrowed will." But unknowing the touch of a woman in bed, Or of nature, of... Continue Reading →
I wanted to repost this poem with audio to exemplify a prose poem that still conveys the style of verse and pays mind to rhythm. Listen closely. Upon Reading Byron's Darkness by Stephen J. Dawson Jr. The snake lie in wait shan't grant you his rattle. The predator wise shan't babel but rather flood venom... Continue Reading →
Eulogy for my Many Sons by Stephen J. Dawson Jr. The beat of your heart rushes blood to my head Your slender-eyed stare and the thought of my bed With your company promised and sworn by and said, I opened my sock drawer and shot my son dead In the hamper, he’s buried, he’s dug... Continue Reading →