Mark Jordan


Mark Jordan Poems

Best Poem of Mark Jordan

The Reaping Of A Poisoned Harvest

Into my cell that creature walked,
in bottle green, with attitude,
determined to destroy.
Him a man of middle age and I, a skinny boy
of seventeen. A young trainee,
as we were called.

If you out there
knew what went on in here you’d be appalled.

He stood there, grinning, malice
bursting through his masquerade
of social norms,
leeching on the atmosphere. Conform,
or pay an even higher price.
Once more my world was rocked.

If you out there
knew what went on in here you would be shocked.

His blood-pumped face an inch away, ...

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