Hello All,

I am sure many have noticed that I have not been on here in a while. You can find me on instagram.

I have not posted any new material due to some soul searching and over time you will see my blog change. I am currently in transition and reinventing myself as a writer.

I appreciate all of your support.

Thank you,

Braeden

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

Stumbling into a fuzzy

and sanitized brainstorm

Watching the fury

leave stains where the mime

inside placed his hands

on the four by four box

Chatter dissolves

Blood clots stricken

Nonstop convulsions

A falling stigma is spread

like dust on the tricks

of my broken down mind

Fears wallow

Doubt hangs like tree branches

in a distraught hurricane

Analytics in bold

Emotions shredded

Wiping away the dirt from

my cynical and distant eyes

Leaving the mime inside

cry like a new born baby

Constantly misunderstood

A misguided circus fumbling

through the fog

A part of me is the feather

of a soaring bird

Never falling to the ground

without direction

Grasping the words of the prayer

Sent to God from a letter

Please save the mime


Check out my books!

Smiles turn frail and sapphire

Grins carrying cobalt bullets

Wrestling with a pocket of change

Standing in front of a phone booth

Eight hundred miles away from truth

Love took a freight train to misery

No emergency brake on this passage

Faster than a speed of light

Lost in all of the choices and indecision

Eight hundred miles away from lies

Wearing a royal trench coat of pain

Feeling like a thousand pounds

Too frozen and solid to remove

Still standing in front of a phone booth

Eight hundred miles away from her

Debating and contemplating

Fumbling with the quarters

Should I call her from Indigo

Gliding into a smog

Pouring firewater into a shot glass

Exchanging gossip over

mixed drinks wrapped around

a mesmerizing saxophone

Overheating remarks on Socrates

Reciting lines from the book of Proverbs

Observing the couple in the

deep chocolate booth sipping

on luscious martinis and chain smoke

to the sound of the rhapsody

Entwined notes and soulful galore

Hypnotized to his shuffling feet

As he sways back and forth

Nicknaming him Jazz Brown

A entertainer in the center of the heart

Playing for thousands over decades

Married to his sweet saxophone

A classic vantage

Perceptions gauzed in antiques

Edges of photographs crinkle

Rustic but euphoric

Art history in sight

Words written from thick blood

Deep appreciation of jazz

Grasping the top notch pen

Refined and elegant

Dressed in sophistication

Adoring her exquisite tongue

Artistic in the hurricane soul

Tasting the vintage ink


Check out my new book!

I wallow in the paraphrases and the ick of December. Wintery trees remind me of childhood and what use to be. Today the misery and solitude linger in the brisk air. I no longer grasp and hold onto affection. I took a walk and could see my reflection in the mangled trees. Branches scattered like my frozen thoughts. I stand still as depression settles deeper. No one wants to stand from my perspective. I despise the winter and hollow chill. No one cares. I use to crave to feel. I stare into the paragraphs and emptiness flows. No one cares. I don’t ask why I am alive. I ask when will you take me out of my misery?