Poetry by A J Lewis

Poetry by A J LewisYes I am a poet, as if the world needed another, right? Well, as you will discover (if you haven’t already), I am good at this craft. I like to type on the computer or typewriter when I write (whatever meets my mood at the time). I am honest and to the point, meaning I am not afraid to say what I think. I like walks in the park and late night phone conversations. I like to read Bukowski when I take a shit on the toilet and Rilke when it rains. I think that Snyder is brilliant. I know that there is a God, but I have serious doubts about organized Christian religion. I am a Pisces, which means I am moody, emotional and sensitive. I like to drink vodka in the afternoon, but don’t call me a drunk, because I can out drink any of you little shits. I am not athletic, but I exercise occasionally. I am a vegetarian. I write to get this loud voice of poetry out of me and into words. Please… only the serious should read on. I am not interested in the boring, mundane, average or the needy. I am not attempting to be a hero, nor am I a role model. I am just a poet with an honest voice. I am awaiting your reaction to my poetry.

I Know I Have

written about pain and indifference
and demons and
but today as I reflect through this open window,
the sun is out,
the clouds come and go,
the birds sing in the trees
and the wet green grass
jumps with life.

it would seem that there will always be another day.
the sun will come again
and life will birth
and grow.

but me, well, I have become stagnant.

I have become stale.

I ache in the desire to live and live and

and through this window
I see that much life is living
where I am

for me, another day
is a slow death:
I must wake, dress,
and move on to my place of business
where my soul will suffocate and die,
where lines are drawn, erased, and then redrawn.
and at the end of my day
I come back to this
and shit
and flush
and wonder about butterflies and
rainy days
and old comic strips.

much of my life will be forgotten,
and maybe only a small portion of it will appear
as a paragraph
in the obituaries.
but this life today outside this window
has kept me
as other things have not.

death, life, both are moving forward
with the eternal question mark inside of me.
and today I think I will stick with the latter
as I hit these typewriter keys,
as the wind makes its way through this

Numb As It Comes

the world is whirling around me as
I try to make a living and
be a husband and a
but my wife told me that
she is happy seeing other men and
being with other men
and she told me that maybe I should move out
because I am drunk
and a bad father and
not necessary to have around.

this life
it is hard
doing all of this alone
without a good friend
without a wife who is honest
with a family who has shunned me
for who I am.

I have been drinking this morning
and my dream last night was about her
it was about the girl that asked me out when I had just met
my wife
and I turned the girl down because
I had a sort of commitment to my wife
but now I see
all if it was

this is as numb as it comes,
trying to block out the world
my life
my family
for a little

you may read this and
pass judgment on me
for who I am
but I will still exist
despite all of you
as a drunk
and a


and as a

trying father.

Numb As It Comes

A Letter To Raphael

I never claimed to be a poet,
a romantic,
a healer
or a visionary.
I am a man,
beaten senseless by life,
drunk in my anger
and tired.

there are things in me that I can’t explain:
like these nightly dreams of events
of the past and the future,
to be spoken to others
and then to be told that I am crazy.
yet despite the remorse, sometimes I can capture my spirituality for a moment,
to experience the ethereal
and the astral,
and feel this energy pulse through me
like it has some purpose.

there are demons that have suffocated my soul –
to be seen somewhere between
waking and sleeping –
to torment and violate –
to break me apart –
to dismiss my handed down Christian beliefs.

and to watch the God I was taught to believe in
turn his back on me
while I am consumed with these evil consorts:
and self-destructive.

I am a mess:
to wade through the folly of occult teachings,
searching for answers
and sometimes even searching for questions to ask,
to quench a hunger
that has been burned into my mind.
and this has become my life:
the pitiful stench of one who has bathed in his own vomit of a masquerade.

in my mind I am at war with myself,
a war that is bent on explaining these unexplainable occurrences,
to question who I was
who I am
and who’ll I’ll become.
and I can attest to these emotions now to relate to you
that your beliefs are held together by a thread
to someday unravel
to let you fall into a mess
of confusion.

that for a time,
your personal religious beliefs could be a farce,
and this tempting darkness could be so soothing
to keep you
and your soul.

I ache for release –
hoping for an easy exit from my tribulation.
oh, God, or gods, spirit guides, or angels,
hear me now
and let me return to you,
to leave my tormented past of demise and foul doings,
of selfish desires
and woe.

I am not asking
to become a Christian
or a Buddhist
or a Muslim
or anything else beyond my scope
of reason.

I am asking for help
to see the light in my darkness
and to save me from this path I am on.

I guess
I am asking for forgiveness
that someday, soon, I can be whole again.

Visiting Benson (Part Three: Thunder)

standing here on this balcony
I have been watching the rain clouds come,
and I have been wondering if it will rain

the thunder hails
and moments later
the rain comes down.
I have nowhere to go
but to remain in this small Arizona room
overlooking the desert.

the screen windows
don’t hold back the rain
or the wind.

again, the lighting comes
and the thunder follows.
the rain comes down harder

soon I will have to make my way by foot
through this storm
before the ground becomes too flooded.

if this rain keeps like this
there will be no way back to Phoenix today
the only road out of here
runs through a wash
and I will be stranded if I don’t leave soon.

so you are probably wondering
why I am sitting in this small Arizona room
typing at this poem still.

there is much to be said about all of
this thunder and
rain and

and you have been reading this far
wondering how all of this will end.

I don’t have an answer for you
so you will have to keep reading on
and wonder
like I have been wondering
my whole

How I Reclaimed My Soul

I have always walked the line
between the light and the darkness,
and there was a time in my life where I resided
in the darkness
until consequence
and karma
caught up with me.

after recovering from that dark lifestyle
I found that I could find quiet
in the light
and I began doing a different kind of meditation each day.

I was given a second chance to
reclaim my soul.

this new lifestyle went on for a while
and it was productive
until I became thirsty again for the darker parts of life
and did things that I am not proud of
and drank
and drank
and drank to forget about my hardships, my losses and my sadness.

leave it to me to throw away a second chance.

my relationships went to hell
as I burned my bridges with friends
and secluded myself
inside my own dark world.
I threw away ethics
and belief
and laughed at faith,
because I convinced myself that I was going to live forever.

but since my son’s birth
I have been making my way back into the lighter parts of life.
somewhere in me there is a decent man left
and I look at my son and I wonder:
do I want him to grow up and be like me now?

someone once told me that we learn by example,
and I have been a witness to this truth all my life.
my experiences have not been good
and I have not led a positive lifestyle.
but maybe somewhere in me
there is a good person
ready to come out
and shine on this world.