MY HOPE
When I’m dead and gone
I hope they tell stories about me
over pathetic campfires
and broken stoves,
and most of all I hope that the stories
they tell are goddamn lies.
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"it's easy to be a bad writer, but it's hard to wake up each day and devote a chunk of your life to bad writing."
About Me
- Jackson Warfield
- Jackson Warfield was born in a small town in New Hampshire on a dead end road. He has traveled widely and worked a variety of jobs, from digging ditches to walking dogs. He writes for entertainment, his own and others.
Followers
Blog Archive
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2008
(297)
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April
(71)
- A POEM - MY HOPE
- A POEM - THE SADDEST MAN IN THE WORLD
- A POEM - HARD GOING
- A POEM - THE LITTLE QUESTION
- A POEM - IT WASN'T MUCH BUT IT WAS SOMETHING
- A POEM - MORE THOUGHTS FROM THE SIDES OF THE ROADS
- A POEM - IT WASN'T THE AVERAGE RIDE FROM THE AVERA...
- A POEM - FATHER TO SON
- A POEM - DECISIONS
- A POEM - INTERPRETING SLANG
- A POEM - HE WAS HOOKIE
- A POEM - HE TOLD ME WHAT WAS ON HIS MIND
- A POEM - THE STRANGE QUESTION
- A POEM - FULL MOON
- “it was a cool feeling to have sometimes,to just k...
- A POEM - ANGELO VELLA
- A POEM - DAY SLEEPERS
- A POEM - THEY BEAT HIS ASS AND STOLE HIS SHOES
- A POEM - SAFETY IN WORDS
- A POEM - OH NO
- A POEM - BUSTED
- A POEM - WITH HOPE IN ONE HAND AND A BOTTLE IN THE...
- A POEM - HERE WE GO AGAIN, AGAIN
- A POEM - I WAS ALWAYS TERRIBLE WITH WOMEN
- A POEM - CHOOSING MY WORDS WISELY
- A POEM - SENTIMENTS OF THE MISERABLE
- A POEM - MORE HOBBIES OF THE DOOMED
- A POEM - ALONE
- A POEM - NOT IT
- A POEM - EVERY DRINK WAS A LIE
- A POEM - THE PRAYER BEFORE THE MEAL
- A POEM - THE SURPRISE
- A POEM - WE SAT AROUND DOING NOTHING AND MAKING RA...
- A POEM - IT WASN'T EASY
- A POEM - A CALL FROM SEBBE
- A POEM - ROUTINES OF THE DAMNED
- A POEM - DOWN TIMES
- A POEM - THE HEAVEN THAT BECAME A HELL
- A POEM - THE FIRST QUESTION OF THE DAY
- A POEM - THOUGHTS ON STRING CHEESE
- A POEM - EVEN A LITTLE COULD BE TOO MUCH
- A POEM - HOBBIES OF THE DAMNED
- A POEM - I SURE SHOWED HIM
- A POEM - THE WIND AT MIDNIGHT
- A POEM - CONCERNING MY WRITING
- A POEM - WITH THE IRON BLANKET DRAPED OVER MY BODY
- A POEM - THE HOUSE SITTER
- A POEM - THE PEARLS WON'T FILL MY STOMACH
- A POEM - HOUSE SITTING FOR MILLIONARES
- A POEM - THE BEST PLACE YET
- A POEM - A SUCKY LITTLE TOWN CALLED BUNBURY
- A POEM - HER WORLD OF FRIENDS
- A POEM - HE USED TO WORK FOR ME
- A POEM - SOFT KICKS IN THE STOMACH
- A POEM - ADDICTED TO THE ROAD
- A POEM - LIFE IS A TALE THAT MUST BE TOLD
- A POEM - THE GREAT IDIOT DRINKER
- A POEM - THE ADAPTIVE RACE
- A POEM - SEEK NOT TO FIND
- “The road could be great, wild times,Or it could b...
- A POEM - THE WORDS OF THE TRUCKERS
- A POEM - THE MAGIC WORD
- A POEM - THE LIAR
- A POEM - THE LONG SLOW ROAD
- A POEM - FUCK YOU FROM ADELAIDE
- A POEM - HER NAME WAS NICKY BUT SHE WENT BY SHORTY
- A POEM - THOUGHTS ON THUMBING
- A POEM - HOW I FELT BEFORE HITCH HIKING ACROSS AUS...
- A POEM - MY WORLD IN THOSE DAYS
- A POEM - THE BRICK THAT WAS ALWAYS EGGING ME ON
- A POEM - THE ROOM MATE
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April
(71)
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