Epiphany _ New Poetry November 2025

Epiphany 

There's that moment 

Of clarity 

When light hits 

The knotty pine 

And polished mahogany 

Brush strokes revealing 

Such beauty 

Where you were 

A manatees 

Trapped in fishing net 

Now you're released 

You're free 

With divine intervention 

Old friends / confidants 

Bob Dylan's Tarantula 

Prayer. Meditation.

Love.

November 12, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

🙏🌹💜💜🌹🙏

Epiphany 

There's that moment 

Of clarity 

When light hits 

The knotty pine 

And polished mahogany 

Brush strokes revealing 

Such beauty 

Where you were 

A manatees 

Trapped in fishing net 

Now you're released 

You're free 

With divine intervention 

Old friends / confidants 

Bob Dylan's Tarantula 

Prayer. Meditation.

Love.

November 12, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

MyStrawHat.com 

🙏🌹💜💜🌹🙏

#new #november #poetry #light #love #joy #epiphany 

——

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Next Easter USA 🇺🇸 _ New Poetry 2025

Next Easter USA 🇺🇸 

Main sent to play 

It sounded okay 

But boss she said I lost 

Because the muffled moss 

And when I said that was the cost 

She said he boss had me on the cross

And his Scottish schoolyard schedule 

Yeah his red republican petty rules 

It seemed to come all so untrue 

But it just proves to mean how 

The sales tires sales man and auto 

Gas the smells likes gasoline ⛽️ 

When she was the high school queen

Elizabeth Taylor and Giant Jimmy Dean 

So you're gonna fire me 

You wanna fire me so bad 

You wanna fire me 

You always had 

With a wonder bread bag 

You wanted to brag 

Go on… take a drag 

How do you care for me 

With a sarcastic Christian Tree

Screaming Crucify Me  

See you next Easter 

So sad

You pretended to care for me 

November 14, 2025

John Alan Conte' Jr.

November 14, 2025 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Christmas Everyday Is Thanksgiving _ new poetry November 2025

Christmas Everyday Is Thanksgiving 🙏🌹💜💜🌹🙏 

Was it the wind    

Why I turned off SportsCenter 

Carrying my mother's voice?

Or cats under the stars?

At four o'clock in the morning 

Wide awake either way 

It's not like I have a choice 

When the joints glow as burning coals

But to think of you 

So tangled up in blue

My work got me these wind chimes 

As I was grateful feeling dead 

Listening to past from time to time 

I can taste too much oak in my wine 

A portal in Pennsylvania's Pittsburgh 

Hearing the town talk we laugh 

Her pill box hat has been stored for her 

Like a World Series game seven home run 

Inside a park like, museum like, library house 

Black & white pictures now colored in 

And old friends like Mrs. Edie Clouse 

With John Lennon's fame and Ringo's plane 

The calling cards, taverns and friendly bars 

We knew it was the meaning of the Star 

Guiding all the Billy Goats and Billy Strings 

The way he sings with his rosewood guitar 

Christmas everyday is Thanksgiving 

Written By: John Alan Conte' Jr.

November 8, 2025 4am 

MyStrawHat.com 

Written By: John Alan Conte' Jr.

November 8, 2025 4am 

#christmas #everyday #is #thanksgiving #four #amwriting #in #the #morning #BillyStrings #blue #grass #weekend #pittsburgh #pennsylvania #november #poetry #ChristmasEverydayIsThanksgiving

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Orange Youth _ new writing _ poetry _ November 2025

Orange Youth 

Talking to their phones like lovers instead of on them asked to draw a picture of a telephone stand they draw a one legged man with a smart phone in hand wishing they had something to eat instead of grandma’s pantyhose and wish they had a mansion but live in rented drywall boxes with a book on Hitler as a pillow and dead puppies for blankets shot by insane fame seeking politicians who pay orange mouthpieces to unleash the dogma of hopes for a day everybody looks exactly the same and speaks from one single tongue even though they have no money because they give everything to orange grove owners who sell them off to feed wars on newspapers and neighborhoods they need for golden toilets and bronze statues of Caiphas and Pilate while waving gold plated crucifixes and autographed upside down bibles used in the last photographed opportunity for hate nevertheless maggots recreate to turn into flies with green spineless bodies that eat feces dropped from an artificial intelligence in the back of an alley where close hangers are bloodied from the babies the orange youth cannot afford to feed or care for and again their tax dollars have been swallowed by a king who can’t abrogate his ego for the good of the people and a lasting world peace so as long as his mind keeps reminding him he’s going to be forgotten after he’s the laughingstock of a flock of Shepherds making pies from the words of poet Robert Burns alongside the smoke stacks of Andrew Carnegie our president sold to a foreign nation where he buys all of his garments to assemble a grand vision of orange youth carrying out his commands as God lights another bush on fire to shed light on the darkness of the days of no shame for being as greedy as a snake who eats its own tail left only wanting more until we close the door and move on to a higher level of care for babies so parents can continue their education from the ashes of burnt books 

November 6, 2025

MyStrawHat.com 

John Alan Conte’ Jr.

Railroad Horns & Old Neighborhoods _ New Poetry November 4, 2025

Railroad Horns & Old Neighborhoods 

Thinking of the past 

When bunches of friends 

Were clusters of stars ✨ 

Burning 🔥 day and night 

In coffee ☕️ houses and cafes 

Old houses 🏘️ and studios 

Rehearsal spaces and stages 

Shows and crowds smoking 

Looking back I was a hack 

An idea 💡 man with a hook 

With my groove in the heart 💜 

I was genuinely authentic 

And that might be a song 🎧 

Trains from ConRail Yards into 

NYC, Detroit and Chicago roll

2:44 a.m. hearing their horns 

That's my song 🎶 for you 

Railroad Horns & Old Neighborhoods 

John Alan Conte' Jr.

4 a.m. November 4, 2025 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

A Letter for You: Poet in a Cemetery _ new poetry October 2025

A Letter for You

I am here; a poet in a cemetery 

I am here as a son, nephew,

uncle, grandson, friend.

Finding comfort and peace on

this 29th day of October 2025

joyful to keep all the memories alive.

I miss you. I am sorry for any time 

I let you down, wasn't around, didn't 

answer your calls, or didn't call enough,

disobeyed you, may have caused hurt.

I know you know. I feel it as my watery 

eyes stare off beyond the trees further 

up on the hillside into pale blue-gray

• the other side of morning -  

across the river - where all of you are 

smiling, speaking, jumping up & down 

you have my attention. I am here 

sitting cross legged on the earth 

back resting on a tombstone.

John Alan Conte' Jr.

October 29, 2025

A Letter for You:

Poet in a Cemetery 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone

Why Smitest Thou Me? _ new poetry October 2025

Why Smitest Thou Me?

Why Smitest Thou Me?

Do you believe 

What you read?

Or is religion your opium?

A chimpanzee hybrid army

Not designed to follow God

But the paroxysms of a pervert 

Best to believe 

In what you read 

But in order to really convert 

You must see it’s HE

HE who is I AM

Then you’re ready to receive 

So now how do you 

View the poor?

Do you feel you 

Need to have more?

Judgement Hall from 

Caiphas and even Pilate

Ain’t St. Peter’s Gate

You may think you won 

But you’re not ONE

#new #sunday #morning #poetry 

Sunday morning October 26, 2025

John Alan Conte’ Jr. 

Poet 

🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏💜💜💜💜💜🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Tune in & Drop out #35 & #12 _ new poetry October

Tune in & Drop out #35 & #12

He didn't want him
He wanted her
He tried to kiss him
But he only wanted her
At Martha's Vineyard
She left her fur
By a graveyard with Allen Ginsberg
They said he could have his hair back
That he already had let go
But he'd already given up tobacco

So, you see the king
He wore a diamond ring
His son's wife could not sing.
Auto-tone. On his phone he's a queen.
Obviously, it's a phony diamond you see.
So, there you have it
That's that.
What a stupid, stupid hat.

She had a snake
Named snake
For Heaven's sake

I had mushroom tea
And knew immediately
It wasn't a reflection on me
The vineyard was blonde
And I only wanted red
Starting off on Burgundy
Then dusty stuffy cocaine
With the Omega's what's her name
On a frat mattress on North Allen Lane
It's all alive, you know
Come and see for yourself
We'll be down at Zeno's


🌹John Alan Conte' Jr.
October 20 - 22, 2025

Good wishes,
John

Sent from my iPhone

Shakespeare’s America _ new poetry October 2025

Shakespeare's America

500 pages later
On a rainy Sunday
I still don't know who he is
His name, Jack Fate, or
Yeah, it changes everyday
I guess that's show-biz
But it's there for sure
Gazing into a glass door
It's fall. You're planting bulbs
For reward in Spring's resolve
A warm day for Autumn Leaves
When Spring comes, I'll believe
I knew this day in a way
Like a man I don't want to know
Everybody should be free, yes
So let it bleed or let it be, I guess
I'm going to continue reading on
Listening to keep on keeping on
Hands on fire at the guitar
In Minnesota, baby, I'm a star
Grew-up around iron all of my life
Selling custom iron gates to feed a wife

🌹John Alan Conte' Jr.
October 19, 2025
#shakespeare #america #Shakespeare'sAmerica

#new #poem #poetrycommunity #writer #writing #amwri̇ti̇ng #october #fall #autumn #poetry

Asleep Is the Opposite Of? _ new poetry October 2025

Asleep Is the Opposite Of?

There goes 

     another rubber tree plant

Says a man like an ant 

25 years? Is that 

                    how long?

I was in a marching 

         band to nowhere.

Ants meet Bojangles 

Mr. 1940's big band 

guitar, drums, bass 

Dance. Dance. Dance.

Sleep well marching Sunday 

Through next & next Sunday 

While the real one-ness 

Stays and prays 40 days 

And 40 nights without fright 

The opposite of sleep 

10-8-2025 a.m.

John Alan Conte' Jr. 

Good wishes,

John

Sent from my iPhone