John Weber

John Weber Poems

Heads propped aloft by the
crutch of dogmatic belief,
savoring each other,
feasting upon flesh-

I toss my focus towards the sky
To ask those knowing stars for truth
They wink at me in mute reply
Shedding rays from my distant youth

I feel the rage burning from your eyes
As you strike me with your kitchen tool
It's that devil in you I despise
Your vicious tirade smacks me most cruel

The flow you bestow
makes all structure go
with spirit-popping visions
stalking from my mind

Within the whorl of
cacophony and ecstasy
dances a vision of clarity
beyond me and my spree

More than twelve hundred souls
Meet their watery grave.
German U-boat patrols
Spark a fatal shockwave.

Sticky sweet methane reactions
Dust the populace with disease
Live flesh embalmed in corruption
Synapses singed by chemicals

Minced garlic with tomato,
onion and pepper,
thick, cylindrical pasta
Mozzarella topped-

If I were the compassionless sort
without regard for flowing sanctity,
and if hunger more dire than thirst
rocked through me with stings true,

Started a job today
well below the pay
needed to keep my sway.

I miss the sky of days gone by
before the roar of aerosol sprays,
electronic noise from power arrays,
when trust was met in a stranger's eye.

The raft gazes longingly at the pier
Despite desires to drift away from fear

That tether dangling within that bleak bay

Pinning chests like puffins to project
            fuzzy assertion,
            huddled, brave foragers
chase the crumbs along the

Once the police began to ban
all social gatherings, we decided
to reignite the ritual of barbarism
crucial at the core of survival

From our
Classroom chills,
Kevin sat alone,

Blasts jet with resistance true
Spiking miles above my head
Raging ages surge right through
Begging me to fly instead

My blood boils in my vein
You fill me with distain
Such an arrogant bane
I see your hate campaign

You don't know what you do to me
My world perches on your shoulder
Beams are filtering all I see
Shivers now build to a smolder

Slipping gently towards entropy,
Ownership with an apostrophe.
Braid the loose frays of sanity
Till something true finally answers me.

Today marks a continuation of
my blazing accent of enlightenment.
With a tedious eye I vanquish
the demon taunting my peripheral

John Weber Biography

Quite simply, I love to write. An even greater passion is reading, as important as breathing. I've probably worked at least 150 jobs during the course of my life thus far; I'd have to say radio deejay was probably my favorite (I'm told daily I have a radio voice) . Fry cook proves to be my least favorite, or perhaps dishwasher. I have a beautiful puppy named Magnus; he keeps me honest with play. Every day can prove to be an active adventure if I allow events to unfold without dour speculation. I've been lucky to live in Wisconsin most of my life, with a few years devoted to Nevada in there for good measure. I love meeting new people in social situations, yet also love quiet contemplation sprawled with my dog reading a good book. I'm technologically sharp but not a slave to the microcircuits. My interest in popular music proves ravenous; I'm constantly looking for new music to bump in the house. I'm fortunate to have a tight group of vital friends who look out for me, and vice versa. I'm working to inspire with poetry, prose and other written or spoken works. I believe in several business ideas rattling in my head and look forward to launching them. I'm divorced but not bitter about it in the slightest. I'm skilled at writing, mathematics, computer use and repair, website design, being a friend, recognizing bull within the mass media, political advancement and study, philosophical debate. I take pride in being a clown: sometimes pretending to be completely sloshed and slurring in the mall to get dirty looks, or stepping up to the bar with an Irish accent to score free drinks. I spend a lot of time thinking about the current political dilemma: American empirialism. My friends pervade my thoughts often as well. Of course, spiritual matters fill me with much needed verve. Please feel free to introduce yourself if you've found my little bookshelf. I would like nothing more than hearing from you!)

The Best Poem Of John Weber

Autumn Cannibalism (1936)

Heads propped aloft by the
crutch of dogmatic belief,
savoring each other,
feasting upon flesh-
          knife and fork,
          delicate spoon.

          Each course far from
          complete, they gorge through
          eroded faces, evidence of
          features strewn to rot in the
          panic of the fading sun.

          Hugging like chums until
          folded into one writhing
          mass, they remain dexterous
          enough to balance an apple:
          proof of perilous symmetry.

          In the distance, the white
          mission weeps under the
weight of the impending torrent.
Even the mercy of the mountains
can't protect from the ruin of man.

Inspired by Salvador Dali (1904-1989)
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John Weber Comments

David Scott 10 October 2009

'A dingo ate my baby! ' No ma'am, it was John Weber's poetry. Keep up the great work, John!

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