Monday, January 29, 2018

Poetry By Joe Albanese

Joe Albanese is a writer from South Jersey. His poetry can be found in several literary magazines across the United States and in five other countries. He graduated magna cum laude from Rowan University where he majored in Law and Justice, which probably helped him with the writing of my first novel, "Caina," a crime comedy, set to be published in 2018 (Mockingbird Lane Press).

An Ocean of the Infinite

Longed like the ocean
In the nights you run cold and in the back of my mind
This hope’s trying to throw me
You won’t let it rain and so my river’s run dry
Is that why hold it?
Well I won’t let you sting but I might let you try

I go with a torn sail
You push when wind pulls just to watch it go down
If you plan to save me
Then these waves better ease and they’d better ease now
Swim is what your voice sings
But it says the wrong way and then complains when I drown

Down in the ocean
It was getting so dark that I have no need for these eyes
That’s when you showed me
What is traversed can only be measured in time
So I go with the ocean
Once I see where it’s headed, I stop trying to survive.


Poker-faced and set in place
A response crawling up his sleeve
Youths forget it’s gallant to beget
He can’t re-play it if she leaves

They cannot hide their shared divide
Through only hint of gaze
Her eyes detract to not reflect
What she hopes would last for days

Their hold redeemed tears at the seams
A mirrored smile if one dares
But outsides behave to hide what they crave
What’s inside - two signal flares

A perfect match that’s just detached
Each look away is a lie
Fear that feeds won’t let either lead
It’s mamihlapinatapai.

A = B and B = C, But A ≠ C

Depression is poetry, I’ve heard too
many times

And I know that poetry is beautiful

But depression…

It’s punching holes in the wall, it’s
punching the door to avoid making holes, it’s
punching the ground to avoid making noise
that wakes others

It’s not shaving or brushing your teeth to
avoid looking in the mirror

It’s not an artsy movie,
a power ballad, or a
call to arms

It’s avoiding any good so you’re not reminded
how far from it you really are

It’s sobbing on the kitchen floor with a knife
to your throat, begging a nonexistent god
to give you the strength to
butterfly yourself

There’s nothing beautiful about depression

You won’t find any beauty here.

Sail in Storm

it’s not that we
don’t see

the beauty
in the world

we see it all
we see more than most

what destroys us
is that we know

the distance

and with each attempt
to get close to the beauty

that distance only
becomes clearer

we know we’ll
never reach it.

The Shards of Blanket Comfort

I’ve seen the girl I wish I’d marry,
but test a dream, I’d never dare

Hope comes in waves of good intention
then blasts and scatters in the air

Moments stumble no matter how rehearsed,
inside out-of-reach,
all fate’s coerced
The things we want the most are just too rare

I hold the hand of muddled vision
to see how something sentient compares

Hope comforts dreams in clouded poison
that leaves them choking on fresh air

Through loss it comes with golden curse,
brings lucid storms,
the clearer verse

To heal is just to dance with disrepair.

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