Five Poems by Jeffrey R. Rossetto in Toronto Poetry Magazine
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Published April 14, 2018

Five Poems by Jeffrey R. Rossetto
Broken Tracks
Far Too Long
He Felt and Thought of Ghosts
What Love Does
Sacred Sinner
Previous   <<<    All Poets    >>>   Next
Previous   <<<    Toronto Poets    >>>   Next
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Broken Tracks

by Jeffrey R. Rossetto

I awake in some tormented refrain
to tha’ noise of wanderin’ thoughts
it’s mah’ heart a ringin’ like fallin’ rain
Ah pray mah’ soul doesn’t reap tha’ seeds
Ah sow in farmers’ fields and city deeds
like a thousand bells a swingin’ furiously
in graveyards’ expanse near a church of pain
a funeral for all tha’ missin’ names
they are the wheels a turnin’ always
made of black-stained iron and steel
mah’ fuckin’ anti-sleep and lack of meals
throwin’ mah’ worries into knots
it’s a noose around mah’ neck son
for all tha’ things ah said and done
good and bad or never sung or did

This constant hell is a girls’ world
Ah can tell by tha’ way she unfurls
tha’ muse here deep inside mah’ body
leakin’ into every place of notions’ curse
every past ah had becomes a painting
every face that’s past me is a song
on tha’ railroads of life and death
friends and foes and friends again
not a dream but an anatomy wronged
a mental illness dwells upon me
of her red-haired freckled face of confession
movin’ faster than a bullets’ spite
from sunrise epiphany to endless night

Gravity here pulls down love
or anything it damn well wants
tha’ Sun’s a jealous and angry lord
of any foreign object it taunts
tha’ sky is only so vast now
for clouds, wind, & rain
tha’ muttering of flies and wasps
on malcontent and twisted backs
asses & mules bow weary heads
whistle blows & headlights’ seen
long time in obscenity now in stacks
there's no lookin’ up at all
ta’ any front or flanks or dreams
misery's train commands its ranks
a trail of woe, sad, and sorrow leans
of breadcrumbs, blood, and flaxen straw
lover, friend, all turned away
this is how it's done down here
as if ya’ didn't know by now
ya’ priceless, worthless babe
a linger makes a slave o’ sight-seer
ta’ all those stone-coloured faces
migrant wayward ways and races
eons’ days & nights
pain & lusts’ delight
at ev’ry stop in sight
do or die is surely damned
just as it's exactly named
on rollin’ hills or endless plains
moonlight cracks a smile above
a fang, a tear, a sack, a shove
life on broken tracks...

March 18th, 2016



Far Too Long

by Jeffrey R. Rossetto

Kindness is a feeling born of few
where many don’t understand it
as human ego and pride overflow
confronts morality in conflict
a crashing wave of tide is due
where an attempt for humanity
is grossly set aside, in residue

There is a damaged state
no justice for common senses’ sake
of action versus consequence
Fathers and Mothers teach their children
how enforced cruelty and ignorance
set the standard of life
sharp as a blade
it cuts as a lie
upon all actual life

I fear for the worlds’ fate
this hatred coming of age
an outcome of all our mistakes
where the real is cast in ice
transparent yet paralysis-designed
so the many answers elude us
the soul keeps dying to be free
at the mercy of contradictions’ curse

It’s the wayward habit run amok
a sicker darker bleaker statement
attempting to replace
all reality

March 19th, 2016



He Felt and Thought of Ghosts

by Jeffrey R. Rossetto

The full moon
thinly veiled by the night
in a deep cold mist
remains still and steady
It is amongst the vast emptiness
of an immortalized dark
It is where the stars wail and shine
in their ceaseless reaching out - no more
wept to remorse
by a chill-wind ‘burning’ on skin
to a shear numb
so stoic and merciless
while ripping through my body
only to shatter my heart
but not before sweeping my soul away
with the pilfer of a kidnapping’s stealth
with that wind now
laughing at me to endless tears
into mattered mortalized dark
In that vastness
no mercy for the moon
alone in heaven’s junkyard
another sad wreckage graveyard
for love’s forgotten children
passing forever away
in poly-phrenic time

October 27th, 2015



What Love Does

by Jeffrey R. Rossetto

Love is a sound
in the night
like blowing wind
swaying trees
crushed leaves
under walking feet
those frantic shoes
on a trail
in search of
a personal feeling
sometimes silent
sometimes loud
sometimes in red
sometimes in blue

When you're on your own
amongst the trees
love has a way
of making strong
what was weak
it changes things
in that place
deep down inside

When you're all alone
all by yourself
love has a way
of making weak
what was strong
it makes clear
what we don't see
what we want to hide

November 7th, 2014



Sacred Sinner

by Jeffrey R. Rossetto

Did he come from Tupelo
Australia or Mars
Hamilton, Ohio
or Manchester city bars?

Did he hail from Ann Arbor
Montreal or N.Y.C.
Dublin or was it Wales?
he must have travelled far

Was it from the hills of East Kilbride
or those crossroads of Tennessee?
the sacred sinner coming in
from everywhere I see

Paris and Hoboken
Berlin and New Orleans
I heard there's one in Liverpool
Toronto, and the Italian scene

Even the legend of Kingsland
had Heaven in his dreams

Birth place of the sacred sinner
can be everywhere it seems


Biography
I am a; singer / songwriter / arranger, guitarist/multi-instrumentalist /
engineer / producer, writer / poet, photographer / filmmaker, visual artist,
d.j., and events producer / organizer / promoter. I was born and raised in
Toronto, though I lived in St. Catharines for sixteen years while being in
and of the underground/(sub)cultural scene there. Currently living in
Toronto, I continue to produce music, creative writing, visual art,
photography, video, and events.
facebook.com/jeffrey.rossetto
soundcloud.com/jeffrey-r-rossetto
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