The Apocalypse: A Collection of Poems

By James P. Bourke

The collection of poems I have compiled here are mostly of a spiritual nature with religious and political viewpoints. Some have a twist of humor. In The Apocalypse, I pose a theological argument with interpretations. As a poet, I’ve aspired to be like a Milton, Keats, Blake, or Dante. I'm hoping I achieved a little of that. I spent four years working on this collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496933850

James P. Bourke

Born in Chicago IL May18 1958. James Philip Bourke. Grew up in Maywood Illinois. Till in 1969 his family moved to Ft Lauderdale Florida. Where he spent six years of his teen age life as a Floridian; moving back and forth to Chicago ,where his older brother lived.. Attended North East high school in North Lauderdale. Also attended Central Y High in downtown Chicago in 1973. In 1979 - 80 attended Laney colleges in Oakland California. He has been playing and singing in public since 1977. Has traveled all over the world as a traveling minstrel.

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© 2014 James P. Bourke. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse    05/14/2020

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3386-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-3385-0 (e)

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expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover image from Wikipedia:

Guido Reni 031 by Guido Reni - The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der

Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA

Publishing GmbH.. Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

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To the late George Maritime 1942 till 2012

If Orpheus could a brother choose

A side kick with an equal muse

A poet of the flute and stars

A man who always sings in bars

his troubles would be far and few

For Maritime He’d walk along with you

A.P.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Born in Chicago IL May18 1958. James Philip Bourke Grew up in Maywood IL. Till in 1969 He’s family moved to Ft Lauderdale Fla. Where he spent six years of his teen age life as a Floridian; moving back and forth to Chicago,where his older brother lived.. Attended North East high school in North Lauderdale. Also attended Central Y High in downtown Chicago in 1973. In 1979 - 80 attended Laney colleges in Oakland Ca. He has been playing and singing in public since 1977. Has traveled all over the world as a traveling minstrel.

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CONTENTS

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Looking Into Your Eye’s

Keep Your Enemies Close

You Take!

My Home Town

A Childs Question

The Flight Of The Butterfly

Crocodile Tears

Ridin On The Dog

Doggie Doggie

The Train Log

The Werewolf Poem

Le Bear

The Age Of Oil Part I

The Age Of Oil Part II

The Age Of Oil Part III

Hurricane Sandy

On Death

Van Gogh In The Alley

Death In The Family

My Sisters Above

Once The Ocean Spake And Once Again It Didn’t

The House Of The Singing Poets Poem

The Change Of Seasons

The Poets Madness

The Month Of The Woman Part I

The Month Of The Woman Part II

The Month Of The Woman Part III

The Month Of The Woman Part IV

The Month Of The Woman Part V

The Month Of The Woman Part VI

Month Of The Woman Part Vii

Luka’s Dream Sequence

How To Become A Child Of God?

Hole’s

A Bouquet

She’s Turning Blue

The Engagement Poem

Pray For Your Enemies

Our Secret

She Melts My Heart Like Chocolate!

Swan Song

Flawed

The Apocalypse

The Apocalypse Part 1

The Apocalypse Part 2

The Apocalypse Part 3

The Apocalypse Part 4

The Apocalypse Part 5

The Apocalypse Part 6

The Apocalypse Part 7

The Apocalypse Part 8

The Apocalypse Part 9

The Apocalpse Part 10

The Apocalypse Part 11

The Apocalypse Part 12

The Apocalypse Part 13

The Apocalypse Part 14

The Apocalypse Part 15

The Apocalypse Part 16

The Apocalypse Part 17

Dream

Psalm

God Is Love

Corna Days

INTRODUCTION

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I began writing poems and songs at age 14. From the ages of 14 to 17, I had compiled several Note books in long hand of poems &writings. The note books fell into an irrigation well when I was 17. I jumped in after them and almost drowned. I was into Arthur Rimbaud at the time and I felt just like him.

As his story goes he never wrote a poem after age 19. I was going to be just like him. Never to write A poem past age 17. I thought at the time I could remember everything I wrote. But I couldn’t remember any. If I had the manuscript today I would rework all the poems and have a few books that would be published.

However there is one poem I remembered the title of I reworked here &put into this collection it’s called, once the ocean spake and once again it didn’t. The only poem that survives from age 14. Most of the poems in this book I wrote from 2010 and on. There are several poems I had compiled in notebooks from 25 years ago till 2010. That I reworked. The month of the woman for example, I wrote the 1st 2 parts 15 years ago. I reworked 5 more parts recently.

Their also poems I wrote in letters, wrote on pieces of paper I lost I published a poem once in a high school magazine in 1975 and in a couple more in other magazines That I’ll will never see. How I wish I had them now to compile into the book.

Also 2 poems, holes and Le bear I entered into a contest. It made the semi finals and were published into a book called, Stars in our Hearts. I was told 40, 000 copies were sold.

The poem The Apocalypse: the title of the book is more prose than poem. I wrote it inspired from a friend of mine the late George Maritime (Director of the now defunct folk music hall of fame in Yonkers, NY.) In which I helped to create. George was also a great poet in His own right. We both came to believe that the word of God, The bible was poetry. And that God is a great artist. I would make pilgrimages once or twice a year in the 90s till 2012 to visit the Director in Yonkers NY. He believed in me as a poet and song writer. Even when at times I did not believe in myself. I’d get inspired to write from my visits with him. I recall, He’d look at me in the eyes and say, you’re a great poet. The world out there is telling you the opposite of who you are. He wrote this epic poem called Moby Dick where he took the actual words of Herman Melville Intertwined them with his own words. Which is where I got the Idea to write or re write John of Revelation. Interpretations that have been rolling around in my head for years, after reading 100s of times. On top of being a poet. I’m also an accomplished musician, folk singer, song writer with 6 recorded albums. My stage name is Guitar Jim or Guitar Jim Bourke. I have done street singing all over the world.

Mostly now, here in Chicago.

Bright lights in the city- all a long with a jug of wine

Dark are my thoughts- feeling free- But bound down Along some

lonesome road- I struggle with a dream and a gift at hand -O! Limitless

love friend of mine- theirs anger in my bones - I feel at ease though no

elated fear - My Dear, Ode to joy- Beethoven ninth -4th movement near

James P. Bourke

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LOOKING INTO YOUR EYE’S

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by J.P. Bourke on May 14, 2011. © jame bourke, All rights reserved

When I look into your eyes

Looking into the window of your soul

I see a man standing there - waiting on true love

Until spring time come’s again blossoming a new

A story of a man lost

Singing in the blues- so i’ll dream the dreamers dream

And call on you- 3 beautiful words I love you

What lovers crave eternally to hear- imagine

Fun eternally near- in union with the woman

She lies closely to his breast

Her hairs falls gently to where he rests

As true love is where both of them meet- a peace swells up

Within- the circle is now complete

So at her gate i stand and wait- at her door

I will come and knock- asking if i can come in

Hoping your heart i can only win

KEEP YOUR ENEMIES CLOSE

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by J.P. Bourke on May 24, 2011. © jame bourke, All rights reserved

I saw her arm- it was filled up like a syringe

Filled up like a gallon of old apple cider

Or vinegar-or a plum or look at her

She has everything she needs

But can her bird sing?

Ask someone?- can we look at her skirt?

Talk on the phone- can we hear the birds sing?

Its called a song- a heron- she sings - she sings

And her long flowing hair flows down

As her legs soar like an eagles brief

Is she a hero? - she falls from her wealth

Like a bird on a perch

With a gentle hand she reaches outside

Inside to the poor

May I and all my hesitations

Follow behind I no more

Like a bird of prey in wanton of a herring

I cough I pause

I hiccup- can her bird still sing?

She whispers low in my ear

Your friends are few

Keep your enemies