Poetry

Glenn McCrary


Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 22 december 2012

A.M. Escape Art

The A.M. has happened upon us yet again
Sunlight ascending; spreading poems
Humans walking, working, speaking
In tones that illustrate such elaborate effects
Often considered a form of the art of escapism
Dreamers, thinkers, doers, poets,
Artists, ballerinas, actors, singers,
All masters of escape art
With every venue they inhabit
New shapes are concocted
Each day, each task, is a performance
Although exists not an audience
Seemingly because we escape
Opinions matters not to us
Hell, I just escaped for the moment
Would you like to escape with me too?


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 18 december 2012

9th ☽

Safety wasn’t a brand of quarreling
For it was known that I was of infinite value
Sudden circumstances in the moment
Establishing rare hopes that weren’t previously held
How it was such an inviting risk
Disappointment was the making of fiction
I knew not of catastrophic probabilities
When cherished by such a caring creatures
Around my neck lies an emblem of my sincerity
To hold for multiple eternities


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 18 december 2012

Now

A collection of valiant philosophies fornicate my cranium
Philosophies that mere earthlings fail to fathom

This desire to birth from such a complex asylum
A power not of the world of which you and I speak

Neither comparison nor ability can be measured
One can try but his efforts shall equate to nothingness

Man may take from it what he wants if he must
Although the return will be of a much lesser degree

Patience is but a fallacy
Now is a gift that shan’t compose contrition


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 14 december 2012

On

It was there
In the pinnacle of that darkly moment
From within all sectors that comprised the universe
That years and years on I had yet to know…

Its secrets were embellished in fancy lettering
Skyjacked by great shock I was
Before the effects consumed my well being

I scrutinized the shape of which I had taken
Finding myself that fully clothed within trench coat of riddles
To neither of the questions had I obtained the answer
Only a wink of desire


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 12 november 2012

Her Neck Screamed One Tune Though Her Thighs Screamed Another

Again I played witness
To the stunning vignette that was her body
All evening the thought to compose words
Materialized from a former canyon of desolation
Merely because I had been swept into the distance
As I am forsaken to ponder
When she’ll become attainable


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 12 november 2012

But She Looked So Lovely Under The Lights

Each time that I see her
A switch is stimulated within me
So arcane yet freakishly alluring
And like a tiger hunting its prey

I chased her pirouetting shadow ever so enthusiastically
The taste of it quite addicting in a hopelessly romantic sense
Tirelessly becoming the axis on which my beliefs lie


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 12 november 2012

Her Hips Were Like A Motion Picture

Thick like knuckle sized sheets of LSD
Her hips swung just like the doors of my virginity
With great ease I grew aroused by the rhythm
That produced the beat of evolution

How I imagine gently seizing her hand ever so tight
And holding it for only the universe knows how long
Occasionally I ponder on whether or not she knows
The lovely effect that she has on my bones


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 12 november 2012

There Was A Tattoo Of Religion Upon Her Lips

If like a sponge she acquired the abilityTo ingest the amour that I have for herThe possibilities of establishing a new religionLie concrete and sound as the imagesOf her body and mine as oneIf ever a chance arose to fix a womanShe’d be just the gash to mendAnd the scriptures would be her satin skin


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 12 november 2012

Eight Track History

I had taken a seat along the sequences of curiosity
When suddenly my mistress dawned
Her eyes alternating in succession
With the pattern that were mine

“Hello” was the word that ejected from her lips
Firecrackers had begun ascending
History was being sculpted before us


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Glenn McCrary

Glenn McCrary, 4 november 2012

Foolish Sex Of The Century

Hardly any creature is
Of equal proficiency
To decipher a melody
Void of meaning

Though the reason for such foolery
Defines the existence of apathetic beings
Therefore upon there foreheads
Carved were no meanings


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