*Trigger Warning – contains elements of suicide, pornography, masturbation, and vulgar language.
This Is Not Love
I've fucked you
through the screen countless times.
Jerked and came to you,
even though you don't know my name.
Smirked in devilish delight
at your lack of limits,
and the way you smile, giggle, and moan
in pleasure during the most obscene acts.
But as I search for you
across the web on this dark night--
in between the thumbnail images of you
riding cock with so much vitality--
I catch a disturbing headline.
It seems you weren't having
nearly as much fun as you had let on.
Twenty and dead, slayed by your own hand.
And my own hand is still wrapped around my cock,
lusting after your naked body
but sickened by what my pleasure cost you.
You were someone's daughter,
and now you're gone.
But despite my emotional grief,
this selfish beast within me
can't stop wanting to see
you get railed from behind one more time.
Because the screen, like a glass curtain,
disconnects me from you;
it allows me to strip you of your humanity
and view you as merely an image--
a moving picture I can claim as my own,
do what I want with, and hang upon my wall--
instead of a precious child of God.
Bile rises in my belly.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I feel so disgusting, so dirty.
Porn is not healthy;
it is not harmless fun nor necessary sexual release.
There's a young woman who's deceased,
and all I can think about
is using her ever after she's dead
to get whatever pleasure I can
from watching the life
get fucked out of her.
This is not a fun, sexual feast.
This addiction, this craving
has reduced me to a beast--
no more than a selfish animal
driven by unrestrained desire
and confined by the chains of lust.
Yes, it's exciting and thrilling,
but I know in my gut
that we were created
for so much more than this.
This is not love;
this is a perverse sickness
that spreads by convincing your conscience
it's natural, nothing but fun and games.
Have we no shame,
lusting and feasting off
another human's pain?
This is not love,
but its ancient enemy,
consuming without giving,
leaving both performer and observer
wounded, lonely, and empty.
Anyone interested in my published collections of poetry can find them on Amazon.
The crickets have resumed
their late-night lullabies--
such sweet serenades to my ears.
They echo across early spring skies,
and I've begun to realize
how much I've missed
solitude's serendipitous surprises,
revealed when distractions are cleared.
In their melodious music
I find more meaning
than in the endless stream of digital chatter.
We've all been cajoled
into lowering our eyes to life,
hypnotized by sparkling screens,
willingly wearing shackles of dopamine,
and hailing technology our master.
But paradoxically, the Internet's
constant stream of content
has not enriched our lives
or given humanity a much needed drink.
It has only washed away our ability to think,
eroded our foundation,
and its current has carried away
the essence that existed at humanity's core.
So from now on I'm content
to listen to the concerts of crickets.
I choose real, tangible, rich, and meaningful;
I'm through with being technology's whore.
My first three collections of poetry are available on Amazon. I am desperate for reviews. If anyone would like to leave an honest review in exchange for the book, please let me know email@example.com
When tragedy and evil strike that have been caused by humans, we realize we're still capable of some really bad stuff. And we're not nearly as good as we think we are; the evil is just hidden under superficial goodness.
There is no sense in denying
that the path of humanity
doesn't rise in glory,
climbing up into the clouds of heaven.
It winds like a clock,
giving the appearance of advances
only to consume its own hands
like the ancient serpent devouring its tail.
And after we've become enchanted
by assuming the gears and wheels of the clock
are beyond the need of routine maintenance,
somehow we are shocked by the silence
when the feet of humanity
quit marching forward,
when the hands of time halt,
and we horrifyingly discover
we have revolved right back
to the beginning of time,
dealing with the same destructive tendencies
we were sure we'd left behind.
Link to my poetry books on Amazon
I am happy to announce that my latest collection of poetry is now available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback formats. FREE for Kindle Unlimited subscribers. You can find it here.
“A collection of sad love poems about the grief, hurt, and sorrow of unrequited love. This poetry anthology contains a wide range of love poems for him and her that explore heartbreak and break ups. There is nothing as painful as getting your heart broken by the one you love. A perfect book for anyone hurting after a failed relationship or a divorce, offering both comfort and assurance that you are not alone in your pain.
This collection is for both the casual and serious reader of poetry. The poems alternate between short, bite-sized poems and medium to long poems that are more in depth. A wide range of traditional, classic poetry and free verse; all of which have some type of rhythm and rhyme.”
In celebration of my newest release and the beginning of Lent, I am also temporarily giving away my collection of poems about God – A Voice in the Wilderness – away for free on Kindle.
I am excited to announce that my latest chapbook of poetry is now available on Amazon in both kindle and paperback formats. These poems have gone through many edits, and I’ve invested lots of time in them. They are centered around my love for nature and also the wisdom we can learn from it. While it isn’t nearly as spiritually centered as my first book, “A Voice in the Wilderness”, there still are themes of God within it – but very general themes; I wanted this to be a collection that almost everyone could enjoy.
While not necessarily a “full” collection, I feel my poems still have more “meat” than a lot of the popular “full” collections of poetry today, consisting of only one or two lines per page. My stanzas could certainly be read that way, but most of my poems are about a page, and a few that are more than that. I only say this to assure readers that the chapbook still has quite a bit of content.
Summary- “Justin Farley’s second chapbook is a collection of poems about nature. Starting in his early childhood, the woods have been a teacher and source of beauty, exploration, adventure, and love. “Nature’s Bounty” is the accumulation of a lifetime of wisdom gained from exploring nature and observing the lessons nature teaches us. This nature poetry collection will reach the hearts and minds of hikers, bird watchers, campers, naturalists, and all those who hold the rivers, lakes, mountains, animals and forests in high esteem. Contains poems on subjects such as birds, animals, the spiritual aspect of nature, gardening, flowers, trees, hiking in the woods, etc.”
I am happy and grateful to share this with you and hope you enjoy it 🙂
The kindle version of my chapbook, “A Voice in the Wilderness”, is currently free on Amazon through Sunday. I would truly appreciate you leaving a rating and/or review 😊 You can find it at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08JHC5Z8N/⠀
Clementine nectar drips down the chin.
Summertime angels swim through the air again.
The crack of a bat under the lights.
Kaleidoscope fire explodes in the night.
Root beer floats, cotton candy dreams.
Capture the flag on neighborhood teams.
July heat brings sprinklers and hoses to cool;
lounging on rafts, diving in pools.
Wading in creek beds catching crawdads.
Camping trips beneath the stars, just you and Dad.
Carnival laughter, Ferris wheel turns.
Days on the lake, nights nursing sunburns.
Tan bodies gleaming in the moonlight,
entangled in adolescences' sacrificial rite.
All good things must come to a close.
First, comes summer jobs; then, parental woes.
Words are a Holy Fire
Words surged from the pen
staining, soaking everything like spilled paint.
Wood pulp thirsty in a state
of mad-eyed hunger.
Paper ravenous for a glorious taste,
elated to gobble up and digest
the things that time can't erase.
Don't you know?
Words are a Holy Fire,
spread from the Word himself.
Infused with the power of desire
to transform, to turn over the world upon itself.
To burn away the dead timber,
embers eager to make way for the new.
On its charred remains,
plant shoots come bursting through.
Oh, yes listen; I tell it true!
Words are a Holy Fire
with more power than the doers who do.
For they are not forgotten by the fragility of memory
but cling to time like glue.
My first chapbook of collected poems is available now! I hope you find encouragement in the poems but also a validation that the spiritual life is not all sunshine and rainbows. We all struggle. We all have periods of questions and/or doubt. But it is the yearning that keeps us coming back for more and allows us to experience joy. You can purchase either on Amazon or on my own bookstore (it is cheaper and has free shipping on my store) and is available on the Kindle and in paperback. Amazon: KindlePaperback Inkspiration Books (my bookstore): Paperback Thank you for your support!
Crystals hang from the heavenly chandelier
on the city upon the hill.
Catching light and doing for the eyes
what wind chimes do for the ears.
of an ancient force
with an unquenchable thirst
Crystals catch the sun's light,
act like mirrors with the power
of those at the Pharos lighthouse,
and reflect it to the ends of the earth.
Never giving birth to work
by its own power,
only transmitting a greater light
whose flame has burned
indefatigable to the chagrin of the night.
of an ancient force
with an unquenchable thirst
of crystals dangling like diamonds,
gleaming beneath the sun.
Dazzling like the thread
of the spider's web she's spun
catching the nightmares of the world
like colossal dream catchers,
waking up those who've fallen asleep,
and giving sight to a world walking in darkness.