Poems by Jordan A. Leturgez

In shadows deep where whispers dwell,
A figure stands, a tale to tell,
With every clash and cry that swells,
A heart of iron, cast in hell.

Unyielding spirit, fierce and bold,
A rebel's fire, refusing to fold,
Injustice drips like rain, uncontrolled,
Each action a story, defiant and told.

A mirror held to society's face,
Unveiling truths in a heated embrace,
They shout of change, of a better place,
Yet, scorned by many, met with disgrace.

They walk the line 'tween right and wrong,
A gang of poets, a chorus of song,
With ink for blood and resolve so strong,
They'll fight the silence, where darks belong.

To stir the souls, to awaken the blind,
With words as weapons, fiercely aligned,
For every enemy, a truth to find,
In their rhythm, the pulse of the resigned.

So watch them rise, these public foes,
From ashes of silence, their legacy grows,
In every heartbeat, their passion flows,
The charm of their chaos, where revolution glows.

In a world so loud, where comfort conforms,
They dance with danger, they weather the storms,
For through the struggle, a new norm transforms,
In the heart of the outcast, true hope reforms.

So stand beside them, or stand aside,
Feel the tremor of truth as they bide,
A poetry fierce, with nowhere to hide,
For the public enemy is the voice of our pride.

In shadows deep where shadows blend,
A whispered pact, a silent mend,
Where dreams take flight on tethered wings,
A commission to the heart that sings.

With ink like stardust, the quill takes flight,
Tracing paths through the long, dark night.
Words, like fireflies, dance and dart,
Each flicker igniting a yearning heart.

Oh, noble task, to carve out meaning,
From chaos stirred, to find the gleaning.
In the echo of silence, we seek the song,
As whispered hopes, both fragile and strong.

Gather the fragments, the world's sweet pain,
In verses woven, like drops of rain.
Each line a fulcrum, a bridge to cross,
Turning despair into joyous gloss.

Speak for the voiceless, the lost and the shamed,
For in every soul, deserving, unnamed,
A story is waiting, a cavern of light,
To break through the darkness, to ignite the night.

The commission, dear poet, is more than a role,
It's the art of connecting, the stitching of soul.
So pen down your truths, let the ink spill wide,
For in every heart's tale, the universe hides.

Let every stanza be a lighthouse flame,
A guiding light through the shadows of shame.
For when the world whispers, "You cannot, you shan't,"
In the flicker of verses, we dream and we chant.

So gather your courage, let your heart take flight,
In the service of beauty, let us unite.
For the commission of poetry is never in vain--
It's a spark of the cosmos, a balm for the pain.

In the heart of passion's flame, red heat burns bright,

A fierce intensity that ignites the night.

It pulses with desire, a powerful force,

Consuming all in its fiery course.

Like a blazing sun in the heat of noon,

Red heat captivates, entrancing the moon.

It dances and flickers, a wild, untamed fire,

A symphony of passion, a burning desire.

In the crimson depths of a lover's gaze,

Red heat roars and never betrays.

It sears the soul with a searing touch,

A fervent heat that is always too much.

So let it blaze, let it consume,

Let red heat reign, in the heart's vast room.

For in its flames, we find our truth,

A poetry of passion, a fireproof youth.

In the hearts of the oppressed, a fire ignites

A revolution born from the depths of despair

Whispers of change fill the night

As hope blossoms in the hearts of the brave

The chains of injustice, we shall break

With words as sharp as swords

A revolution fueled by the poet's ink

Guiding us towards freedom's shores

In the silence of the night, voices rise

Echoes of resistance fill the air

For poetry is the language of the revolution

A beacon of light in times of despair

So let us rise, poets of the revolution

With verses that speak truth to power

For in the power of our words

Lies the strength to change the world's hour

In the quiet corners of the mind's vast expanse,

Lies a yearning, a whisper, a plea for a chance,

To be seen, to be heard, to be felt deep within,

Yearning for attention, where new dreams begin.

Amid the chaos of this hurried world we roam,

Yearning hearts seek solace, a place to call home,

In the eyes of another, in a kind word or touch,

Craving connection, needing attention so much.

Like petals unfurling to the morning sun,

We seek validation, our battles to be won,

In the symphony of souls, we long to play a part,

Yearning for attention, a flame within the heart.

So let us pause and listen, with open hearts and minds,

To the silent cries that echo in the winds of time,

For in that tender moment, when attention is bestowed,

New life begins its journey, along the path we've sowed.

My emotions is flowing as deep as the ocean
But unlike most men, I don't want to be in the top ten
Every woman wants only a one of a kind
so I feel like i'm number one in my own mind

Heavenly father, I'm troubled. No One notices my struggles
How can I stay focus on the game when No One loves you
Over the years, it's like putting a cast on
While the pain keeps getting passed on

I asked myself where is God when I need him
Everyday I say forgive me father for I am sin
From morning to night, is everything alright
I have fallen until I have came out of sight

I only want the best and never settle for less
The only thing that matters in life is success
I'm blessed. By the god of the universe
My past is a memory just like the Converse

I got nothing but love for the ladies
I was raised by one, but she was so shady
Every woman in my life was like a queen
But in the end of the day, they're nothing but could have beens

I believe you must be born again, John 3:16 is true
The old life can be washed away, Everything made new
I try not worry about the past
Because the one thing I do know is that my honesty will last

You know it's hard to get a win
When everyday struggles starts over again
So when you know how to control your sins
Then your time of living happy will soon begin

When I was young, I was dumb at certain points
But I did avoid messing with any kind of joint
The man from above can judge me only
That's why there's only one Ballin' J-Money

In twilight's shadow, where time softly fades,

I ponder on life's wandering serenade,

The dance of years, a melody so fine,

A poetry of staying sharp in old age.

Once sprightly, I leapt through youthful days,

With vigor and fire, in naïve displays,

But now, the gnarled hands of time embrace,

A humbling reminder, life's gentle grace.

Oh, let me ponder, let me intertwine,

The wisdom of years with this heart of mine,

For age is not defined by count of years,

But by the depths of wisdom one reveres.

The mind, a blade, once quick and keen,

Can still forge pathways through the silver screen,

Each word, a chisel, to sculpt stories untold,

Breathing life into memories, bright and bold.

With every verse, my spirit takes flight,

Defying the encroaching gloom of night,

The ink, a potion, preserving the mind,

Shielding it from the ennui of mankind.

So, let me sharpen, let me never rest,

For words are my armor, my very best,

And as the sands of time continue to pour,

I'll thrive in the beauty of forevermore.

I'll tether my thoughts to the poet's quill,

As I dance on the precipice, spine tingles still,

For within this rhyming tapestry I weave,

The essence of youth forever I'll cleave.

Now, as I traverse life's labyrinthine maze,

My poetry will guide me through the haze,

Staying sharp, I'll wander through endless times,

A testament to the old age's prime.

May my verses ignite fires in others' hearts,

Fanning the embers, rekindling their own arts,

For in this poetry, we'll find unity,

Knowing that age cannot constrain the free.

So, let us celebrate the silver strands,

The wisdom that flows through our aged hands,

For within our souls, like a phoenix, we rise,

A poetry of old age that forever defies.

In shadows deep, a father's betrayal lies,

Like a tempest brewing in a stormy sky.

Once a beacon of strength and guiding light,

Now a figure shrouded in deceit and blight.

A daughter's heart, once warmed by his embrace,

Now aches with the wounds of his disgrace.

Words once spoken with love and care,

Now twisted into daggers of despair.

The bond they shared, now torn asunder,

By the cruel hands of betrayal and thunder.

The pain, a heavy burden to bear,

As trust and love dissolve into thin air.

Yet amidst the darkness and the pain,

A glimmer of hope still remains.

For wounds may heal and hearts may mend,

And broken ties may find their mend.

So let us hold onto hope and grace,

And seek forgiveness in this bitter place.

For though a father's betrayal may sting,

Love's enduring power can still bring healing.

In the heart of a city where shadows blend,

Lies a place where the weary find solace, a friend,

Club Solar, where laughter weaves through the air,

A sanctuary shimmering, a haven so rare.

Walls echo whispers of dreams long unfurled,

Canvas of hopes in a vibrant world,

The soft hum of life, a rhythm divine,

With every heartbeat, the stars align.

From beams of sunlight spilling wide,

To voices entwined like the ebbing tide,

In this gathering circle, we dance and we sway,

With the moon as our witness, we chase night away.

Here, poets and dreamers share verses and tales,

Each word like a comet that paints cosmic trails,

With ink on our fingers and fire in our veins,

We speak of the beauty, the losses, the gains.

Beneath the disco ball's shimmering glow,

The stories of past, the seeds we sow,

Together we rise, with our spirits ablaze,

In Club Solar's embrace, we wander in a daze.

For in this warm refuge, no judgment, no fear,

We find kindred souls, and our purpose grows clear,

With each whispered secret, each song sung anew,

We turn hopes into galaxies, timeless and true.

So let's gather our memories, a luminous feast,

Celebrate together, from greatest to least,

For Club Solar is more than a place on the map,

It's a heartbeat of love where we find our way back.

In the hush of morning light, they gather,

Soft whispers fold between the pages,

Crinkled tales of hope and dread,

The pulse of a world, fragmented, aged.

Ink-stained fingers trace the headlines,

A tapestry of stories, bold and brave,

Where sorrows are etched, and triumphs shine,

Each article a wave upon the vast grave.

In the city's heart, they spill like secrets,

Crumpled destinies in black and white,

A mother's plea, a soldier's testament,

Lives woven in newsprint's tight embrace,

Each word a lantern glimmers in the night.

The fickle hand of time races by,

While history's notes inked in urgency,

Unfolding humanity's fragile cycle,

A mirror reflecting our epiphany,

The chaos, the beauty, a collective cry.

But in between the stories spun,

Lies the quiet ache for things unsaid,

The love unspoken, the dreams overshadowed,

Voices lost in the silence, blood-red.

Oh, bearer of truth, hold us dear,

For in your embrace, we are both alive and dead.

So as we sip on our coffee's warmth,

And scan the stories that paint our day,

May we remember the hands that crafted,

Each line a heartbeat, each phrase a ray,

For newspapers cradle our very essence,

A testament to those who dared to say.