Jon Edward Walker

Rookie (6-26-1980 / othello)

Jon Edward Walker Poems

1. Superman 12/9/2005
2. Drugging 12/10/2005
3. Roxy Dog 12/10/2005
4. Not Michael Jackson 12/10/2005
5. Kirk 12/5/2005
6. Tequila 12/7/2005
7. It's A Good Day For A Divorce 12/7/2005
8. Change Of Heart 11/19/2005
9. Worth Dying For To Live 12/22/2005
10. Fleeting Passion 12/22/2005
11. I Can'T Leave Her 12/22/2005
12. Fuel 12/22/2005
13. Hiding 1/4/2006
14. The Kennel 1/11/2006
15. The End. 1/11/2006
16. Nothing Like You 1/11/2006
17. Digesting 1/11/2006
18. Penguin Playing Chess 1/20/2006
19. Ode To A Worthless Sonofabitch 11/19/2005
20. Enraged 11/19/2005
21. Half A Man 11/19/2005
22. Wasted Education 11/19/2005
23. My Love 1/20/2006
24. No Title 1/20/2006
25. Don'T Let The Wheelchair Fool Ya' 1/21/2006
26. Billy 2/3/2006
27. Drilled Helpless 12/17/2005
28. Casie Girl 3/8/2006
29. I Want To Be An Overrated Drunk 12/5/2005
30. The Weaker 10/12/2005
31. Ready 12/4/2005
32. No Hypothesis 12/4/2005
33. Freight Train Lawnmower 10/13/2005
34. From A Distance 10/13/2005
35. Thanks For Drunkenness 10/14/2005
36. God's Humor 10/12/2005
37. Happily Ever After 12/12/2005
38. Spooning Screwdrivers 12/12/2005
39. In Love With A Pornstar 12/12/2005
40. How To Make Friends 12/12/2005

Comments about Jon Edward Walker

  • Joy Vanderhelm (1/21/2006 3:37:00 PM)

    I find your work amusing, dark, gritty, drunkenly hilarious (with or without the drink) and absolutely chock full of talent. Often some of the greatest artists attribute their amazing talents to the influences of other greats that came before them. But, you should know, you have more than enough talent to stand alone, indeed, to positively thrive in the public realm of published works. You're definitely one of the few poets here that I gladly make repeat visits to.

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  • Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler (12/7/2005 1:33:00 PM)

    i've read your entire catalogue, and must say you have the heart and mind of a poet and write some strong and impressive work. it struck me how heavily you rely on Bukowski to find your angles and words, which isn't so bad. but Bukowski's already been those dark places, done all that. a poet with as much talent as you have really should consider finding his own voice and his own words. trust me, there is a slew of Chinaski clones out there trying to carry his torch. but the man is dead, his torch has been buried with him.

    you're already off to a great great start. keep writing, you've got a fan here.


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  • Carolyn (Cy) Vuletic (11/28/2005 5:34:00 PM)

    Jon Walker has more talent in his left pinkie than most of the 'poets' on this site, if you do not agree/ do not respect/ do not understand with what he write's about, then don't comment/bitch and moan about it, don't read it! And accept some 'minds' just can't comprehend/ interpret what other's obviously can!
    This is a poetry site, what ever happened to letting creative juice's flow? No one is superior here, ok!
    Carolyn G. Vuletic

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  • Mary Nagy (11/2/2005 7:44:00 PM)

    I really have been enjoying your poems. I appreciate the honesty you write with. Your bio. is a poem in itself! Very interesting. I look forward to reading more from you. Sincerely, Mary

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Best Poem of Jon Edward Walker

I Don'T Even Remember Your Name

you with the blonde hair
who smoked too much weed
you were my favorite.
High on cough syrup
I asked you to be my girl
told you I was thinking about
another town
a new start
but if you’d be my girl,
I’d stay
you agreed and we played in the park
that night for hours,
kissing and building miniature
stick houses
it took us half and hour maybe
to cross the bridge
and those Christians
slowed to walk with and
talk with us
they wanted us to know
that they cared
if you read this I want you to know
that I still care
you were always ...

Read the full of I Don'T Even Remember Your Name


Karma cuddles with her mother’s belly
stretch marked though it is she hangs it uncaringly
out from underneath her hoodie
while the pit bull
bites and plays with Sean’s
the cocaine hides in the bedroom
away from the child and the dog
the mother refrains

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