(1st Verse)
Remember when
I wrote I love you on a napkin
Remember when
You read it and you couldn’t stop laughing
Remember when
We danced in the pouring rain in our lawn
Remember when
I said “Look at you baby, you got it going on.”

CHORUS:
After fifty years
You know nothing has changed
After fifty years
Still in love, can’t get enough,
All this love and passion remains.

(2nd Verse)
Remember when
We made love on the kitchen floor
Remember when
We played hide and seek in the grocery store
Remember when
We listened to Chesney on those summer nights
Remember when
we talked until the morning light

CHORUS:
After fifty years
You know nothing has changed
After fifty years
Still in love, can’t get enough,
All this love and passion remains.

Bridge:
As the decades pass by so fast,
I can see our love was built to last.
Every minute and second I embrace,
I wake up still loving the shine on your face.

CHORUS:
After fifty years
You know nothing has changed
After fifty years
Still in love, can’t get enough,
All this love and passion remains.


Lyrics by Braeden Michaels

Jungle like appetites dangle
Salivating like a savage
Like a cherry to be swallowed whole
Gulping down the passion
Engulfing like a predator

Primeval serpent enslaving
With exquisite poison, lashing
Languishing deep within
Force, forced ever deeper
Into the narrow, miry abyss

Gobbling and feverish groans
Temptations shredded to bits
Comfort and smoothness meshing
Melting desires in our hands
Tasting a scrumptious spot

Arching, stretched bow taut
Drawing ever deeper
Writhing lost in ecstasy
Agony, awareness fades
All sensation focused

Animalistic tension glaring
Expletive moans thicken
Ignoring the glowing sunrise
Peaks of euphoria strike
Unbelievable chemistry

Clutching, rising, reaching
Gasping, the final plateau
Feeling omnipotent, puissant
Shuddering slow descent
Into childlike peace

Releasing the outcome
Intoxicating visual
Mind blowing eye contact
Flowing like a heavenly river
Round one complete


Braeden – Non Italics

All About Life – Italics

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‘Tis Evanoe’s,
A house not made with hands,
But out somewhere beyond the worldly ways
Her gold is spread, above, around, inwoven;
Strange ways and walls are fashioned out of it.

And I have seen my Lady in the sun,
Her hair was spread about, a sheaf of wings,
And red the sunlight was, behind it all.

And I have seen her there within her house,
With six great sapphires hung along the wall,
Low, panel-shaped, a-level with her knees,
All her robe was woven of pale gold.

There are there many rooms and all of gold,
Of woven walls deep patterned, of email,
Of beaten work; and through the claret stone,
Set to some weaving, comes the aureate light.

Here am I come perforce my love of her,
Behold mine adoration
Maketh me clear, and there are powers in this
Which, played on by the virtues of her soul,
Break down the four-square walls of standing time.

my ice skates on a wall
lustre of stumps washes his lavander horizon
he’s got a handsome face of a lousy kid
rooming-houses dirty fingers
whistled in the shadow
“Wait for me at the detour.”
river… snow… some one vague faded in a mirror
filigree of trade winds
clouds white as lace circling the pepper trees
the film is finished
memory died when their photos weather-worn points of
polluted water under the trees in the mist shadow of
boys by the daybreak in the peony fields cold lost
marbles in the room carnations three ampoules of
morphine little blue-eyes-twilight grins between his
legs yellow fingers blue stars erect boys of sleep
have frozen dreams for I am a teenager pass it on
flesh and bones withheld too long yes sir oui oui
Crapps’ last map… lake… a canoe… rose tornado in
the harvest brass echo tropical jeers from Panama
City night fences dead fingers you are in your own body
around and maybe a boy skin spreads to something
else on Long Island the dogs are quiet.

And how sweet a story it is
When you hear Charley Parker
tell it,
Either on records or at sessions,
Or at offical bits in clubs,
Shots in the arm for the wallet,
Gleefully he Whistled the
perfect
horn
Anyhow, made no difference.

Charley Parker, forgive me–
Forgive me for not answering your eyes–
For not having made in indication
Of that which you can devise–
Charley Parker, pray for me–
Pray for me and everybody
In the Nirvanas of your brain
Where you hide, indulgent and huge,
No longer Charley Parker
But the secret unsayable name
That carries with it merit
Not to be measured from here
To up, down, east, or west–
–Charley Parker, lay the bane,
off me, and every body

Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
By the sea’s side, hearing the noise of birds,
Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks,
My busy heart who shudders as she talks
Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

Shut, too, in a tower of words, I mark
On the horizon walking like the trees
The wordy shapes of women, and the rows
Of the star-gestured children in the park.
Some let me make you of the vowelled beeches,
Some of the oaken voices, from the roots
Of many a thorny shire tell you notes,
Some let me make you of the water’s speeches.

Behind a post of ferns the wagging clock
Tells me the hour’s word, the neural meaning
Flies on the shafted disk, declaims the morning
And tells the windy weather in the cock.
Some let me make you of the meadow’s signs;
The signal grass that tells me all I know
Breaks with the wormy winter through the eye.
Some let me tell you of the raven’s sins.

Especially when the October wind
(Some let me make you of autumnal spells,
The spider-tongued, and the loud hill of Wales)
With fists of turnips punishes the land,
Some let me make of you the heartless words.
The heart is drained that, spelling in the scurry
Of chemic blood, warned of the coming fury.
By the sea’s side hear the dark-vowelled birds.

I’ve walked in the house of 10,000 socks

Right in the center of the room was

a checkerboard clock

From zig zag, polka dots, solid and all the colors from the rainbow

I couldn’t believe what I saw and had no where to go

Piles and piles, stacked up next to the walls

Socks everywhere and down the hall

When the clock struck nine it made a rambunctious noise

From the very top bursted 10,000 tiny toys

The socks begin to move and out came the Zentals

I couldn’t believe what I saw, they seemed very kind and all very gentle

They played and played until it was dark

They were very nice and had big hearts

The Zentals were giving and very caring

They had wonderful manners and understood sharing

They crawled back into the socks and turned off the lights

You could hear 10,000 Zentals saying good night!

Vigorously illuminating

She’s overworked

Quite compelling

She’s overtired

Completely potent

She’s giving

Magically robust

She’s asleep on the couch at 1AM

Forever lovely

She’s precious

Make up less

She’s still captivating

Deserves everything

She deserves a forehead kiss

She played the xylophone with slivers from her heart

She played with the words sabotage and defeat

And she sobs until she sleeps

She played the violin with sorrow falling from her pale lips

She played with Neanderthals and demons dressed in white

And she sobs until she sleeps

She played for an orchestra that didn’t have a crowd

She played with excuses and threw away the stories in between

And she sobs until she sleeps

She played for dying revelations and faith in a jar

She played with misfits and a jamboree that never stopped bleeding

And she sobs until she sleeps

She played for maximum security with dwindling self esteem

She played on center stage with a rewritten manuscript

And she sobs until she sleeps

Hatred developed like a photograph

Slipping the venom with a twelve inch needle

Violent spasms tingle in rhythm

Lust is the saliva on my irritated tongue

A gust of shivers soaring at sixty miles per hour

Nailing like a rusty hammer

Selfishness and submissiveness collide

Wrapping hands around the bullhorn

Releasing the spite in her open mouth

Emotionally deficient

Unavailable hands

She leaves me cold

One teardrop

Blank stares piercing

Nonexistent affection

She leaves me confused

Two teardrops

Ignoring casualties

Split and deceased

She leaves me in distress

Three teardrops

Dissolved current

Withdrawn shadow

She leaves me without a trace

Four teardrops

Absent and eliminated

Misplaced words

She leaves without a sound

Inside forever it rains


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