Adam Holmes

Adam Holmes Poems

Holding hands, gazing at stars
Kissing, cuddling in backseats of cars
When the sun catches the moon
We will be there

People question me about my content
“You never write about the beautiful things”
Everything is grim
Everything is ugly

Why are the lights turned out?
What is it we are doing here?
Where did I lose my reason?
Who are you past the blur?

The sinner sins
The preacher preaches
One thing is certain
Preaching won’t seize sinning

Skipping stones
Rolling heads
Falling stars
Unmade beds

Roses are red
Violets are blue
These rhymes make no sense
But sound good they do

Yellow clad cabby drive for miles
Twelve hours driving, put a roof on his head
Left home a half world away
To find himself traveling all day

From mountains of love
To valleys of despair
We make the trek
Forget what we see along the way

Ears listen for noise
Lungs gasp for breath
Eyes search for sight
Hands feel for touch

Smoke clouds circle thought
I need this fix, nothing else
Once upon a dream I was a champion
Two years and twenty pounds later…

Puppeteer moves us, roundabout
Go with the flow, avoid the undertow
Puppets we are and always will be
Until the current sucks us down


I ride my bicycle through cozy farm town streets. The breeze flows through my bones, extreme excitement. I coast up to the store. A collection of fallen coins fill my hand. I will buy candy. I take my loot over to the bench in front of the fire station. Fist full of tootsie rolls, rewards for another long hard day of having fun.

I hop on the board. Yell up to grandpa in the boat, faster! He pushes the throttle forward. Water splashes on my smiling face as I glide across the waves. I'm free. Later this afternoon I will go jump off cliffs. I want to jump off the tallest one, but dad says I'm not old enough. I have no fear. I walk to the edge of the rocks looking down at the sun's reflection on the water. WhooHoo! I jump. For that brief moment, I'm not a child. I am superman.

I stumble down the stairs and into my room
My smile turns sour
As the whiskey begins its revolt
These drunk days are dying

Prepare for fighting
Paint up your face
War drums waken the sun
A young brave’s dream unfolds

Elitist wants the world bent at his ever fattening waist. I’m better then you yet you think your richer then I. A telescope reaches an eye to the stars, but eyes grow weary of sights so far away. Hearts, crashed into a hoopla of fast talking salesmen
The feet wait to walk
Preacher sells the good of god, and the atheist steals it right back.
They are both taxed by eyes of innocence. Forgetful of this, the talking never quits. Living a life of nonsense makes the most. Thinkers stumble on their minds mended steps.

Forgotten identity...

The crab doesn’t fit his new shell
The old was the young

The government is the root of our evils
But they do just what we want
We don’t want the truth
We want answers

I once saw a preacher try to read biblical verse
To a junkie on the steps of the library
The junkie politely said,
“No thanks, I prefer natural narcotics.”

Wisdom plays the voice of reason
Reason slaps the hand of hope
Hope rides the wave of faith
Faith moves the wall of fear

If men want war
Gods want war
If gods want death
Men want death

Adam Holmes Biography

Hellbound and hardly breathing)

The Best Poem Of Adam Holmes

Forest Fire Fairytales

Holding hands, gazing at stars
Kissing, cuddling in backseats of cars
When the sun catches the moon
We will be there
I have nothing but time

Holding hands at the alter
Your name becomes mine
When the tree meets the sky
We will be there
Happily ever after, together

Angry hands hit paper walls
Yells and screams echo above our past
When the fire burns the forest
I stand alone
Time is up, fairytales over

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