Why, the act itself, naked before me Burning away micro-atoms that lust, It’s an endless pit of excessive worry. My soul left to die in this fiery dust. For we who have experienced a rape – It shifts and lingers as a bad odor, By the nape of rape, I cannot escape. Our dimensional windows…
Blood Rain
Blood Rain by John Gregory Evans © 5/17/2020 1:58:19 AM Rhythmic seasons arrive by way of violent crimes from within the darkness, as we digest encounters with black and bloody sinuous renegades, of branch and vine. Tiny minnows and tad-poles thirst upon a solitary descent of a complacent pain, as dragonflies carve out their stellar…
A Suffering Tribute from the Fingerprints of God
A Suffering Tribute from the Fingerprints of God by John Evans Suffering, is it sadness? Or, is it pain? Pain, as 240 days plus measured from too many combat scenarios through forests and trees? Shell shock, or PTSD? Suffering, is it misery? Or, is it stains? Stains, from my tarnished soul walking in too many…
A Nostalgic Bruise
Here I am: Standing naked of earth and sand – To rid this dusty land of legacy and rotted out bones, bleed ashen words upon this page of virgin tones. My youth, thus, desecrated – imprudence awaits, a trust and an unknowing glance from a sleepy boy’s eyes, Why, is this a generational hindrance from…
John G Evans & Paavo Oso Arts 