Biography of James Barrs
Born in 1977 and raised in Syracuse, N.Y. and the surrounding areas. James spent most of his high school and college years writing poetry instead of paying attention in class. Up until now this ambition and love of writing has lead him nowhere. However, he keeps trying to impress the world with his brand of confessional poetry. At the age of Twenty-one James moved to Las Vegas, N.V. where he chased his writing career from one menial job to another. Often times spending years alone and without inspiration, yet the poetry in him never died. a low grey ember that burned slowly and cold. Now the ember is aflame and cannot be quenched. look out because nothing will stop him now.
James Barrs Poems
Unwanted by a profession, friends and loved ones, Unimportant to the happiness, productivity and longevity, Unneeded for passion, pleasure and love.
Why Do I Have To Be A Candle?
She wants you as a candle, Not as a light bulb in a lamp. She wants to go to the drawer And pull you out when
I Know Now
I know now, you are the Finest individual I have Ever known.
I hate this ancient theatre, The play we are all a part of. The roll I have is trivial, This roll played before,
All the motivational sayings tell us Regret nothing, do not fear failure. What if all your decisions in life were in fact regrets and fears.
Why Couldn'T We Just Stay Like This Fore...
she said; couldn't we just stay like this forever. but the like this, was me alone and her with others. Couldn't we just stay like this forever. where I don't love you
Like Shadows Haunt The Night
I began to think of myself as Thoreau in the wood Isolated by choices, which does not make it any better.
Incomplete! Just like the novel, Last chapter torn out. Unfinished directions, in a foreign location. Of all the possible interventions
For What Its Worth
For what it's worth, In this grown old stage, I once loved.
Don'T Forget About Me
Sometimes you just need to say something, a little peep to let the world know your still here, be cautious with that squeak, the wolves may be listening. Then again, so to may be the friend,
Horse Songs Every once in a while, I feel it's over.
Lightning Colored Days
The lightning covered days have come, The end seems nervously near, The frightened child ran home, The smell of fear is present here.
Struggling toward possible rewards, Knowing failure means my life in vane, Slowly washing down the drain.
Every once in a while,
I feel it's over.
Some losses can't be accepted.
Usually, I am here, at 3 am.
No point in being here, except comfort,