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Book Review

I recently finished “Fallen Star Rising” the birth and death of a fiery love affair by Tara Caribou. This is a collection of poetry that tells a story that is broken down into five sections; deep space, gravity, blue giant and supernova.

The author does a fantastic job to ensure each section flows into another to ensure a story is being told rather than just taking a collection of poetry and spreading them out into sections. Throughout this compilation, as a reader, you are on a roller coaster of emotions. The intensity, eroticism, vulnerability, anger, love, and back breaking truth wrap you up like a blanket. Every emotion displayed in this collection is embraced and captures the essence of the journey of love as a whole.

It is a challenge to pick out poems that are my favorite. I truly enjoyed “Admired/Unworthy” due to the one or two words on each line. The word choice for this poem was bone chilling. I love the poem “Quietly I love you” due to its tenderness. I love the “Missing Piece” due to its gut wrenching cry to recognize someone.

The only flaw I see in this collection is the over use of curse words. I think the author could use better words to make the imagery more felt. Overall this is a great book and would recommend it to others. I give this four stars. This book can be found on Amazon and Lulu.com

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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My imagination doesn’t see us between the sheets. I have tip toed around the questions within while sipping on truth. I’m afraid to chug to it for it will consume me. I could drink your tears, fall for your disease, and get tangled up in your words for a lifetime. I could dance with your vulgarity, skeletons, and the dress you will never wear. I could scrape the lies from the bottom inside and toss them on the ground you walk on. You will never be a china doll that was never touched. In my disordered eyes I reach for the rawness you create. I wish I could feel it in my palms. Perhaps that wish floats like the paragraphs you write. I could shut my eyes and lose myself in your barely seen stars. I could crave for the intimacy that could last for twenty minutes but cherish the dynamic that we possess forever. I could walk into our electricity and you would bellow. You are worth the aftershocks. I can use the word love for once and feel it’s purity.Perhaps my imagination stretches out too far. I could visualize us making love but drinking coffee chuckling is photographed. There are no aches, no hunger, but just a whirlwind of appreciation and respect. I can’t tame your ghosts, erase the burns, and find the missing pieces. I can’t even see your canvas due to its width and length. I’m terrified to lose something perfect. I love our vibrations. I love the flow of our burning river. I love your fragments. I love your chocolate vocabulary. I love how it taste in my mouth. Nobody pushes my imagination like you do. Nobody reaches for me with their bare hands, except you.

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There’s a blue ball in the gutter
The willows weep amidst the oaks
Drunk street sweepers spreading trash in the air
Abandoned porch swings on hundred year old houses
Blackstrap molasses dripping from that window seal

The Post office is flooded with lost letters of love
The PTA is full of divorced housewives giving the acronym new meaning
The cathedral on 2nd street has been empty
for a decade
The minister can only preach on Sunday’s playing poker sipping on whiskey

Faded hopscotch in rundown school yards
Old man Beetle dressed to the nines for a walk to the donut shop
Laughing girls in pigtails tossing a coin in the fountain
That woman there sneaking a smoke behind the doctors office
What is that strange smell in the air

The asphalt has pot holes screaming murder
Stop signs blushing like lovers on the beach
57’ Chevy is chasing the rabid dog around the square
Rhinestone glasses waitress wins lottery goes broke in sixty seconds
And the pond on Summersby Lane has fish crooning Dean Martin

A police chase down Main st
Same story same time last week
Dirty little secrets of hit it and quit it
Who’s that the preachers wife driving on the wrong side of the street
It’s poison from the power plant on the edge of town

The crab apple tree has leaked mystique
On the bottom of Lake Plateau lives six dead men
And Butchers Field has dancing scarecrows
And the Barber Shop on 3rd Street has chatter that never ends

Peculiar feeling here
The sign at the homeless shelter has been blinking less for years
That house on the corner a double murder suicide
Swept under the rug in the police chiefs house
Don’t mind me I’m just the messenger

Crime rates doubled downtown
Not a dime or a fade penny on the streets
Too many ex lovers chugging medicine at Stella’s Bar
Not enough landscapes or rivers on this side of town
No one here sits on a porch gazing at the stars
Too many staring at the end of a bottle

Braeden – Italics

Stella – Non Italics

This was a fun collaboration with Stella! Check out her blog if you haven’t!

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Apathy spreads like Gingivitis

Swollen tongue with crawling spiders

Be careful what you swallow

Decorated exposition in the tonsils

A deafening circus in dark spaces

Be careful what you consume

Grit like vines wrapping around

the excruciating sounds of chipped teeth

Be careful what you speak

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Roses are red

Violets are blue

So much to love

about sensational you

Full of kindness

and tender joy

Abundance of life

Glowing spirit

A wonderful gem

Shining and rare

Sparks dancing around you

A never ending spectrum

of spectacularity

Loving and embracing

the fall and height

All begins with

Roses and violets

in your remarkable eyes

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In a garden of remembrance
Under a blinking and winter moon
Our love shimmers and blossoms
Inhaling your joyful smile
Memories guiding me to your heart
Seeking a resting place of tranquility

In a garden of remembrance
I found a shadow and light that reveals your beauty
Our love sparkles and glistens
Exhaling your graceful spirit
Memories flowing like a river to your heart
Residing in your sensitive arms

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She sabotaged the dance in the glass ballroom

I wobbled

She exterminated the jitters in the broken conversation

I trembled

She annihilated the echoes of magnetic attraction

I shook

She extinguished the blaze and tremors

I weakened

She damaged our fragile daydream

I froze

She obliterated and paralyzed our cemented love

I stumbled

She shattered our eternal promises

I cried

She abolished the state of confusion

I suffered

She consumed my beliefs and spit on the blood in my veins

I staggered

She smashed my sympathy and disposition with her concrete words

I spiraled

I flatlined with the axe cutting through my tarnished soul at midnight

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Sentiments drifting in a box
Grappling with drops of emptiness
Reflections of glee captured
A gem restoring faith and hope

Polishing off the elegant rust
Refined and forever blooming
Treasuring the memoirs
A jewel gleaming in the dark

Unnoticed but yet unblemished
Speckless on the inside
Crystal vase held by miraculous hands
A ornament made up of untarnished pearls

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Hypnotized by the sound of ice
Clinking in the sound of a glass
Smoggy and dreary atmosphere
Bottles full of hollowness
Mixed exchanges and signals
Pleasantries found in a blur
Spinning comments climbing up
Overdosed by her lustful winks
Lost between delusions and rainbows
First impressions engraved
A fragrance of whiskey circles
Crack of the cue ball dances
Spreading the triangle to all the corners
Quarters placed on the table
Perfume and alcohol mesh
A stench causing grins and sneers
Digits written in pink lipstick of the bathroom stall
A bartenders chuckle reverberates
Jukebox music playing at a ridiculous decibel
Communication at a bare minimal
Skirts and cleavage lecture over a free drink
Epilogues stumbling in and out
Clumsiness and truth cross paths
Ex lovers stuck close in a soap box
Identities hidden promenading in
Monologues spoken wobbling out
A haven of melancholic thoughts
Stationed between 2nd street and the laundry mat
Match made in intoxicating nirvana

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I paid a subscription to your diary

I paid a fee to have a piece of your heart

I paid the gatekeeper to find the key

And the price chipped at my blood soaked soul in the cage

I paid the politicians to write a book of lies

I paid the servants to disservice the king

I paid the sinners to sell their crimes

And the price chipped at my blood soaked soul in the cage

I paid the witnesses to run away

I paid the fortune teller to paint a picture

I paid the artist to forecast golden dreams

And the price chipped at my blood soaked soul in the cage

I paid the hunter to kill the enemy

I paid the invader to seek out the truth

I paid the villain to stab me with fears

And the price chipped at my blood soaked soul in the cage

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Skating on a thin transgression

Meandering on a wide back road

Falling through a tangled excursion

Uneven and disarranged chaos

Deflecting the indifference

Lightheaded from my shortcomings

Crawling in my untouched exploitations

Juggling white shadows and black light

Washing away the birthmark

Recognizing the drawbacks and faults

Tainted in your burnt eyes

Bleeding drops of anger in my own

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Crawled inside your minutia
Fumbling around like loose change
Boggled and mangled in a jar of deceit
Held by your trembling hands

Errors dripping like candle wax
Wide stains of fear cradled
Mishandled affection is a hangnail
Dipping innocence in spoiled paragraphs

Words thrown like sharp razors
Ripping skin while bathing in apathy
Discrediting and botched up
Miscalculating the rationalism

Dividing and conquering the weak
Ruining and driving names in the mud
Clutching onto the poison of the villain
Tiptoing around the matter

A pale face turns to be revolting
Choking on your lethal audacity
Like a black wolf in disguised
Witnessing you gulping corruption like vodka

Intoxicated by your brutality
Shaking my silence from side to side
Falling in your art of destruction
Constantly drunk from your vibrating sins

Check out my books!

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Life is full of fast twists and slow turns

Life is full of unwritten expiration dates

Life is full of stages that blend together

Life is full of doors that open and close

Life is full of endings and beginnings

Life is full of mistakes and lessons

Life is full of blessings in disguise

Life is full of dreams and nightmares

Life is full of shades and sparks of reality

Life is full of diamonds in the rough

Life is full of unfounded treasures

Life is full of tears of joy and sorrow

Life is full of memories that we create

Life is full of wishes and memories that we had hope to make

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Somewhere east along Highway 37
A neon sign flashes intermittently vacancy
The Scarecrow Hotel remains alone
Stained threadbare carpets muffle TVs
And tearful phone conversations
Sixteen parking spaces yet only four filled
Warm shower and a sagging bed for the night

The ancient bricks lure the demented and sick
Vultures eying through the windows
Black and blue clouds crying endlessly
Wooden floors feeling troubled feet
Surrounded by ravens and blackbirds
Five miles east of the bloodhound river

She threw her suitcase on the queen
Predictably it flew wide open
The latches never held right, just like her heart
Two changes of clothing to cover her bruises
He’ll never touch her again but
Wrinkled clothing and a wad of cash
Don’t heal scarred faces

The letter “E” is barely visible in the sign
Voices humming a overture in the cellar
Last names engraved on walls by spirits
Doorknobs hanging by three threaded bolts
Driveway gravel is black as night
Welcome mat covered in red ants

He stares into the chipped mirror
Five o’clock shadow daily dulls razor blades
Just like the rings that dull his once bright eyes
The phone bill shows her increasing texts
Every time he travels to pay for her wants
More hours, more money, more fancy things
Less of him with less of her, he looks away

Dark stories unfolding in the rooms
Sheets covered in lies and betrayal
Cigarette smoke stirring up shadows
Tiny cracks in every bathroom’s mirror
Brown mustard dripping from faucets
Stained tears found in the corners of closets

She hears voices not her own
Listens every day upon a rented bed
One weekend she opened her eyes
Bloody hands and a very dull knife beside her
Finally a quiet clean house
Ever since then she lives with a smile
Mama taught her little girl don’t take no shit

Storytellers, dreamers, and howlers visit
Intending to sleep but fall in the depths
Replaying memories of the past
Cynics and liars raise a toast at the bar
Tipping the bartender bullets instead of dollars
Quarrels served at the table tops

He loosens a tie used as a tourniquet
Money well spent on the tricks of a whore
Last Friday he played two gigs stacked
Brain damage found in riding a white horse
Picks up his guitar and hums a few chords
Remembers the eyes of a lover
It’s another night, another hotel, another road

A neon sign flashes vacancy nonstop
Full of headaches, screams, and lost souls
Built on a cemetery of the Crowe family
Generations of terror between 6am and midnight
Sleep is just a word inside these haunted walls
Stories never die…

Braeden – non italic

Tara – Italics

This was a fun collaboration! I enjoyed it. Check out her blog if you haven’t.

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1/16 inch thin layers

Appealing to the saliva of the dogs

Overrated and shallow interiors

Claiming to be a superior

A rancid exterior to animals

Gritting my frustrated teeth

Recognizing a frivolous mind

Intellectually inept and blank

A lost Aardvark in the desert

Shutting you off like a valve

Lacking the ability to digest

Mad at myself for allowing you in

A crawling fool on the inside

Seeking depth and connection

Seeing an overhyped individual

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“O hell, what do mine eyes
with grief behold?”
Working with an old
Singlejack miner, who can sense
The vein and cleavage
In the very guts of rock, can
Blast granite, build
Switchbacks that last for years
Under the beat of snow, thaw, mule-hooves.
What use, Milton, a silly story
Of our lost general parents,
eaters of fruit?

The Indian, the chainsaw boy,
And a string of six mules
Came riding down to camp
Hungry for tomatoes and green apples.
Sleeping in saddle-blankets
Under a bright night-sky
Han River slantwise by morning.
Jays squall
Coffee boils

In ten thousand years the Sierras
Will be dry and dead, home of the scorpion.
Ice-scratched slabs and bent trees.
No paradise, no fall,
Only the weathering land
The wheeling sky,
Man, with his Satan
Scouring the chaos of the mind.
Oh Hell!

Fire down
Too dark to read, miles from a road
The bell-mare clangs in the meadow
That packed dirt for a fill-in
Scrambling through loose rocks
On an old trail
All of a summer’s day.

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Kiss me until we see the dark
Stand in the showering limelight
Seal your vow in the music box
Recite your lyrics softly in my ear

Sing me a song of devotion
Hum to me in your hushed tone
Dress me in your secret message
Hesitate your seductive murmurs

Swallow your sighs and hints
Mumble your satire in your birthday suit
Leave me your pamphlet of ridicule
Staring at your cynicism and bitterness

Remove the jaw jacking banter
Make love to me like the rancid dog
Deliver me one honest sentence
Walk away like the black widow

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Like a caterpillar in the midnight rain
Crawling through the hollow misery
Love departed in the chilling seams
Disappearing sentiments shriek
A Rendezvous slipping away in palms

Astonished by the copper leaves flying
Lakes drying up from the emptiness
Broken prayers misguided by the glare
Compromises thrown like pounds of dirt
Discomfort stuck in the tendons

Our love trembles and yowls

Agony settling like trampled dust
Gasping on the soaring affliction
heartache submerged in soot and spit
A romance ripped at the fingertips
Surrounded by the scalding temperatures

Violent cramps pricking rhythmically
Thickening torture runs down my throat
Weeping madly and in confusion
Seeking deadly faults within the glass
An illness dispersed in coarse veins

Our love shivers and screams

Clarity is a dark cloud dangling
in my sunken and insomniac eyes
Jumbled up words scribbled in my mind
Walking like a tormented disorder
Gripping on to the petals with my palm

Forever embroidered within my sleeves
Dropping it below my tattered knees
Falling to the distorted earth
Gazing up at the swollen apricot sky
Tears flooded like a waterfall

Our love bleeds and pulsates

Shadows of the gravestone widen
A fortress of preciousness clamped
Clutching adoration and admiration
Seeking answers from a growl
Tasting chunks of sorrow

Drinking melancholy from a flask
Elsewhere and gone in my pockets
A nickel has more value than my identity
Bitten by never ending and lasting scars
Latching onto oppression and misfortune

Our love flinches and grovels

Questioning faith and man made religion
Cursing like a drunken sailor
Angry at the curved roads without signs
Cut hands raised in the fickle air
A flight of exasperation lingers

Waking up from vexation in my stomach
Anxiety and headaches twinkle like stars
Burden worn like an army jacket
Distress sinking in my teeth
Anguish and inward sketches touch

Our love is seeking answers in the mist of our hands