Jonny Brackney

Rookie (September 26th,1988 / Louisville, Kentucky)

Jonny Brackney Poems

1. Dirty Eyes 12/13/2011
2. A Hard Thing Put Simply 12/27/2011
3. Between The Lines 12/12/2011
4. A Splendid Little Evening 12/28/2011
5. Black Ribbon 2/11/2012
6. Spun Into A Numb 1/11/2012
7. Shalayna 1/18/2012
8. Act Ii - The Invention Of Cheese 12/13/2011
9. The Beast In Lady East 12/12/2011
10. The Perverted Wave 1/17/2012
11. Remember, Little Writer, You'Re A Slave To The Host. 2/10/2012
12. I Know Dead People 1/26/2012
13. Volume Junkie 12/12/2011
14. Lost Poems 12/12/2011
15. Bad Romance 12/13/2011
16. Night 12/13/2011
17. You Wont Miss Me 12/19/2011
18. Dissociation 1/2/2012
19. Lone Wolf 12/27/2011
20. Bloodhounds In Baskerville 12/20/2011
21. Chirping 12/24/2011
22. Cries For Help Part 1 6/13/2012
23. That Night, A Forest Grew 2/21/2012
24. I'M Not A Racist. I'Ve Just Happened To Notice That Them Coloreds Want My Woman...And All My Money Too. 2/27/2012
25. The New Layout 4/9/2012
26. Jonny Boy 3/1/2012
27. Back With A Vengeance 5/8/2012
28. Eye 5/18/2012
29. Contemporary Rebel 12/19/2011
30. Drug 12/13/2011
31. Flower Stained With Ink 12/13/2011
32. Dogs 12/12/2011
33. Ring Around The Rosie 12/12/2011
34. Lonely Road 11/15/2010
35. Cowards 12/12/2011
36. The Spectacular One-Night-Stand 12/12/2011
37. Numbers 12/12/2011
38. Normal Prison 12/12/2011
39. Envisioning Hell 12/12/2011
40. Bossy & Butter Man 12/12/2011
Best Poem of Jonny Brackney

Dirty Eyes

sometimes i feel the devil
and his dirty eyes
watching.
haunting me.
taunting me.
burning me alive...
inviting me to fall
into a comfortable numb.
but in that numb
a hatred dwells, smirking in the shadows.
i shrug him off and
move along
pretend he isn't there.
my inner madness spills into a
thin black ink.
so you can read
what your eyes
would never
see.
while i sit
grinding teeth,
spitting thoughts from my fingers.
hurting and feeling.
living with
myself.

Read the full of Dirty Eyes

Lonely Road

the road goes on
new trees, new fields
same road, same wheels
we lose ourselves
he sits like a statue
i want him to speak
to tell me a story
or give me advice
but the road goes on

[Hata Bildir]