http://slow.writerscafe.org/jackjoseph The original writings of author Jack Joseph en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776011516 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Sensuality and sinister foreboding-sensations, almost audiblethrough bone and blood.Cracking and creaking,each rib snapping into a new positionprotecting and steadily compressingthat which lays inside.Amidst all the real and imagined horrorthe beating thing and it's metaphorical spotin your mindhurt.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/505714/ Sharing a bed-kids have it rightwe mucked it up.Friendship and support,linen forts and secret missionsNothing felt better than crying;camped out in a circle of threehoarding cards and ice cream.Walks of shame were never there in the morning;only the slip-sliding of socked feetracing to the kitchen-m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/503305/ Dreaming of a meal,wrapped in paper and stringwaiting for the love and flamethat would come, once a familiar handpulls the door open and the light comes on.Soon sweet smells of onion and olive oil,butter and lemon dance together, dotting the airjust above the pan.Diced this and that now enters,bound.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/491463/ Bob Dylan is giving me a dirty looksomething about me beinga wimp.I just wanted a cup of joea couple of sugarsand a nice walkbut he looks seriousstanding next to the countera steaming cup of his ownfogging upfrom his hand;I half tip my caphalf run awayinto the bitter .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/473364/ Piles of bookslooks from ghoststhe toast of literaturestaring forwardwaitingbreathlessfor the nextlast wordold wood creaksbetween volumesvoices mutteringpages shufflingcloth coverssnapping closedposed are theysitting on the shelveswaitingbreathlessfor the next.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/473353/ Three Separate pieces; jazz influenced. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/469381/ Three Separate Poems. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/468417/ An older piece of mine, from a July posting @ www.sleeplessjack.blogspot.com http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/466947/ Five separate poems. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/466925/ I hate hearingthat menlack the ability to loveShe told me that menthink that love is cuteand useless;that sex is the only gainwe have in mind.We are desperately clingingto the playtime of our youthkeepingthe samedestructive behaviors.Blowing upour sisters dolland .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/464967/ Were all doomed to dreams of soaring though the starswhile naked, sweating through already soiled sheets.Our contentment is based on our ability to ignorethe influence of the rotten, spoiled world around us.I'm not one to smile when getting a tickedfor smoking on a sidewalk;standing amon.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/462836/ Where the hell has Ginsberg gone?These people need a good hard look at themselves.Talk of finance seems to permeate the airand yet the arts were impoverished long ago;reduced to weekend enthusiasts or the wealthy eccentric.Where are the coffee houses broadcasting prose;the parks teeming .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/462835/ A few at once... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460441/ It's hard not to go over failures;memories that made you sad.A smart man sees experienceI'm just a common lad.I feel the pain fresh each dayand it's not receding.A common burden? Perhaps.I'm frustrated with like-talestrying to alleviate pain through shared trauma;I don't care what .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460099/ I was told that a writer needs moorsa place to go for inspirationsomeplace with history, perhaps death.That same person provided the inspirationand the death of bits of my soul.She is my moor, she is my cold windas romantic as she is desolate.I don't need fog, I have her scorn. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460097/ Maturity never comes in handy.always coming entirely too latealways showing upafter the fact.We're always unprepared.Constantly thinking of the past;what could have been done.Then you begin to realizethat not knowing,is where you want to be.living from moment to momentfloating .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460096/ I hope my mind cares for me when I'm not watching.Shoveling bad memories from huge pilesinto the smokestacks of my soullike the engine-room from a colossal steam shipmaking my screws flutter faster through a murky sea.I want to plow through giant waves of griefand break any ice that thre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460095/ I remember thinking;"Hot Chocolate wasn't a good idea."Bleary eyed I stood therehot water in one hand, a packet of mint cocoa in the other.looming over a glass mug, sobbing.The last time there was powder in this mugI was in different company.I can't help it, I can't avoid it... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460094/ I'm supposed to write for the fat ladybut her song is, and should be, the last thing on my mind.I miss the comforts of the past,I can't seem to forget all that.Standing here, out on the blustery corner,a crossroads where the former meets the latter;I am in the now, the present.My life .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/jackjoseph/460093/