Exchanging histories, undiscovered blessing She was born with silent violet butterflies dancing in her “catch my breathe” eyes A surreal connection, depth with curves She walks with simplicity dripping from her mysterious and irresistible lips
And she sings with heartache and strength And she sings with brilliant magic And she sings with white hot conviction And her inner beauty is a magnificent star
I walk through the forest listening to her enchanted voice I walk through the forest following her footprints
Kindhearted edges, carrying wreckage She carries invincible wings over her worn out and distressed shoulders crystals floating in her periwinkle soul She lights up in the dark like a firefly armed with blistering faith
And she sings with heartache and strength And she sings with brilliant magic And she sings with white hot conviction And her inner beauty is a magnificent star
I walk through the forest concentrating on her enchanted voice I walk through the forest guided by her dazzling spirit
I sat in a fossil like auditorium with the fragrance of significance brimming in the air, a middle aged man with a silver beard unleashing his thunderous and stout voice “Corporate America is a cult I don’t want to follow, she will entice you with her glitter and clown red lipstick, she will hike up her skirt for a glance but you will have to pay for the seductive dance, Corporate America has a stench and will leave an ill aftertaste, breathe in the sun and slowly walk through the hellacious gardens that will make you live again, Corporate America is a lethal injection without a needle, it’s an invisible blood stain on Mount Rushmore, it’s the catalyst for consumption with gallons of saliva, and by God everything you purchase with that plastic card all stays here when you are buried in that graveyard, Corporate America will disown your soul, spit in your eyes and fill your lungs with greed” The silence reverberated and awakened us.
I’m just a silhouette situated on a cracked street corner gazing into the crevices of the cement. I’m a wanderer seeking warmth from a gentle hand. I spend too much time looking inward and only see engraved scars. I’m just a singed shadow that leaves whispers and tears for an empty sky. I find myself buried in my beloved diary. I cling to it as I cry myself to sleep as I pray to a God that is made up of sandpaper beliefs and songlike scripture.
I tend to sleep with trauma with invisible gauze and bloodshot dreams. I rationalize the hallucinations due to the measurable weight on my shoulders. I live in a household filled with indifference, butterflies circling fears, and ghosts having sarcastic conversations with each other. I carry a laugh from an ancient carnival. My mother named me after two distinguished poets. The name Sylvia Poe Chandler feels supernatural on the birth certificate. My personality is upside down and is unseeable. I scoff at normalities and jokes about what can not be changed. I loathe logic defended by agendas that are written by parasites. I am drawn to the stars have a tint of green because the moon is jealous. I am fond of the night because I can see my skeletons sipping on ignorance in the closet.
I never once believed in the elegance and fragility of love. I believe in monsters, dark side of humanity, warlords, and anguish that swallows you whole. I don’t believe in the hands of compassion nor forgiveness. I can’t believe in concepts I’ve never felt. I never once believed in angels, optimism with a silver lining, and words spoken by the rich. I believe in individuality not the mummy walking mass. I never believed in rhetoric from men wearing blue suits. I do believe someone below is smirking at my trials and tribulations. I can’t believe in fairy tales but I believe in an epilogue with a waterfall.
She calls me an infant and he calls me ungraspable. I’m a mute but the list of endless adjectives are added to the scroll. I am seeking love and affection from heathens wearing sin like a trench coat. I’m full of spite but spit out caffeinated speeches. I walk with a phantom knowing I’m contaminated. Self worth is buried in the forest of my backyard. As I walk through the woodlands I can feel the mosquitoes surrounding my significance. The closer I become my eyes swell with grief.
I am a cloud hiding behind the sun seeking a ray of hope. I have a backbone that you can’t see. I am a star gazer with drops of melancholy in my hands. I have been destroyed by my foul mouthed pro creators and poisonous ex lovers. My fate is torn but my destiny sees a rainbow from a distance.
I’m jittery but calm in my logic. I parade these streets with echoes and slippery sentiments. I feel misplaced, misguided, and my feet continue to fumble. I struggle with intimacy and the white lies I swallow. I walk with expectations that I can’t see and standards that I can’t comprehend. I ignore my swirling instincts and lackadaisical intuition. I camouflage my fears with sophomoric humor and childish innuendos. I cough up resentment on a daily basis.
I wear my pride like a tattoo with animosity sewn to my arms. I am slightly dysfunctional and walk with a scorched tongue. I have an appetite to be understood than loved. Love is just a mirror that shatters over and over. Affection is just an object that we all hunger. I wiped away the frustration from my eyes and see myself residing in the winter’s scream. Please don’t hold me, just reach in to breathe in my cold air.
Bitter honey, the aftertaste is drowning the affection once pure turns into ink Disjointed and spots of spite stick to my worn-down tongue, I dwell inside
I lost my existence but found my shadow I lost my fears but found my perspective I lost my pride but found my character
Even in the despair, the calm was burning
Bitter honey, the aftermath is devastating the devotion once concrete crumbles Frail and specks of turmoil rushes down my frightened throat, I wallow inside
I lost my independence but found my direction I lost my truth but discovered the lies I lost my innocence but gained my wisdom
Even in the melancholy, the silence was light
Bitter honey, the afterthoughts are distant the tenderness once snug is crippled Cracked and traces of sorrow drip from my serenading eyelashes, I cringe inside
I lost my thirst but found my hunger I lost my laughter but found the jester within I lost my ghosts but found my guardian
Television is a disturbance of luster and plentiful Television is a scandalous invention Television is a disruptive mechanism clogging your arteries Television is a vacuum sucking the cells from your cerebellum
And the imagination crumbled And the ingenuity succumbs And she seduces hour by hour
Television is nerve gas crippling your legs and motivation Television is a apparatus blended with hype and inferior hogwash Television is a machine gun of information with a steering wheel Television is a junkyard of contraband with sounds of justification
And the mind evaporates And the muscles sit And she seduces hour by hour
Television is a volatile substance with a grin Television is a crutch with a bomb chained to your feet Television is a fifty two inch rectangle civilians idolize Television is a glass religion with no faith
stomach acid gorges the frame of the picture ceramic villains stand in the center of the image credit card smiles seek the light of the troubled road wallets become empty as they cling to the objects of the room
Love was just a word to deceive
camouflaged tears reckon within the twitching of souls charades is not just a game but the poison they drank daily They laid drunk in the center of the bed photographing plastic memories
With bureaucracy, cities are filled with coal black odor and oily propaganda With a nation split, curbsides are weeping ignored tears With silent voices, the suburbs are submerged in delinquent credit cards With unlocked screens, cybersecurity is ringing in their ears With devastation, vacant buildings are filled with cynical vagabonds
Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard I can feel the thunderous chill I can feel the drops of poverty hit the ground
With phobias, the empyrean is brimming with frozen echoes and hallucinations With trampling chaos, wallets are vacant and figureheads spit out quarters With melancholy, anklebiters and adolescences lose a pinch of oxygen With blatant defamation, freedom is pulled and slapped With misinformation, points of view are written with a vindictive tongue With fraudulence, whispers and blackmail are sleeping in a king size bed
Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard I can feel the winter’s nights subside I can feel the battle’s fire descend
With deceit, finger pointing and raised eyebrows come with nail biting With money laundering, hands of indulgence are shaking With bombshells, ammunition comes in diabolical forms With sleep deprivation, insomnia is staring at the eyes of the moon With coercion, manipulation is a bouquet of addictive flowers With anger, the dust is swept away under a hand knotted rug
Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard I can feel the pride sparkle like a star I can feel the graveyard’s breeze glisten
With commentary, opinions shuffle and parade in the opaque air With disregard, wings disintegrate and laughter is tossed in the dumpster With hopelessness, arbitrary symptoms turn into a derogatory spell With disinterest, the jargon is masked with ill conceived agendas With double talk, the carelessness tone is at full volume
Within the letters from Johnson Boulevard I can feel liberty silently falling from her cheek I can feel the compassion scream as the ink dries
She bleeds heartbreak like tortured waves She bleeds drops of hopelessness on her vacant canvas She bleeds translucent sins and whiplash She bleeds numbness and savage cuts
Tormented sea, please don’t let me drown I have a will with armor and a fortress
She bleeds silent lightning and hollow caverns She bleeds lost yearnings and tainted echoes She bleeds obscurity with traces of animosity She bleeds contorted anxiety with frustration stuck in her throat
Tormented sea, please don’t let me drown I have a fire that won’t be extinguished
She bleeds nightmares with a voice of gnarled wars She bleeds a cry with torn rainbows and blazing reverberations She bleeds goodbye with a wailing fizzle She bleeds into yesterdays with tomorrows screeching
Tormented sea, please don’t let me drown I have something that you can’t see
I applaud you for the tenacity you carry on your shoulders I applaud you for the worth you see in your sensitive skin I applaud you for the struggles you slowly shed I applaud you for the fight you possess
Deep into the traces of your veins lies the sterling wings of a divine messenger
I could fall for your grace on stage
I applaud you for the courage that’s woven on your heart I applaud you for the compassion in your finger tips I applaud you for your articulate and sharp tongue I applaud you for the irresistible flame that burns within
Deep into the traces of your veins lies the sterling wings of a divine messenger
I could fall for your backbone in the limelight
I applaud you for the drops of heartache you turned into strength I applaud you for the affliction you endured and overcome I applaud your for not staring into your past with sinister eyes I applaud you for the intuition you carry like a candle
Deep into the traces of your veins lies the sterling wings of a divine messenger
I could fall for your aurora without touching your skin
I was sparks of eccentricity and she wore a hat of gumption I was a humming conundrum and she was a silver flask I barely sipped Yet I was polarizing in her sapphire eyes Something I will never understand I was a battle scene from bloodshed and she was a vase of harmony I was filled with indifference and she was full ofdrizzling kindness Yet I was magnetic in her sapphire eyes Something I will never comprehend I was a cookie cutter of complexity and she was a polygon of wonder I was a man of calculating conditions and she was overflowing with affection Yet I was appealing in her sapphire eyes Something I will never digest I was a pinch of numb nerves and she was a calm sea of beauty I was the king of carelessness and she was quite serene Yet I was engaging in her sapphire eyes Something I will never inhale
The dark side is gravitating Scrambled thoughts of my reality Playing with the toys in my closet A world you could care less Claiming to know me completely You know what you want to know My efforts to shed dead skin get unnoticed I grin on the inside of these vandalized walls We share a love that wears many disguises that you refuse to see You chose to see only a few layers of me We display a miserable performance Consistently staring into my silence I can’t make you use your tongue I will never be enough or give enough You are as broken in pieces as me You don’t know how to walk away I dare you to walk away like the rest The grin expects the unexpected Can you spell the word depression Waiting for God to take me away You will understand me when I’m dead and gone And give more of yourself to another man The dark side is gravitating
I’m not worth a penny
You won’t see any shine on me
I’m only a dot on this earth
You won’t even notice I’m here
I’m not a decoration
You won’t see that I exist
I’m only made up of coal
You won’t even notice that I’m gone
I’m just a tragedy waiting to happen
You won’t even care that I spoke
I scream in silence
To recognize that I’m alone
Author and poet Braeden Michaels delves into the many-layered political realms in his newest collection, Growl from the Sun. Beginning with his fourteen-page magnum opus of the same name, he confronts and denounces modern society and the politics of the day. No stone is left unturned. There are no sides, no labels, only raw emotion and unbending truth. This gritty selection of poetry is sure to provoke introspection and deep conversations for any who dare open its pages.
I started out a project about almost a year ago on “love poems” and within less fifteen poems I didn’t like the direction of what I was trying to accomplish. As a poet, I write more as a storyteller and sometimes forget why I started writing as a treen. Then it was an outlet and personal, something I needed. As I glanced at my project it didn’t take long for reality to slap me in the face. I am married to my inspiration. I see my light and the woman who said “yes” in a church. I’m hard on myself and consistently think I have to accomplish things to be something and someone. It became easy to continue this project once I made it more personal. Once complete, I handed my wife a copy and told her to flip to the dedication page. I’m not a perfect husband and willing to admit when I’m wrong. Every day that I wake up I know that I am blessed with more I could ever imagine. I am married to a woman with the strength of a lion, heart made of pure gold, and doesn’t have an ounce of selfishness. This collection has every shade of love! Grab a copy and swim in an ocean of poetry that awakens all of your senses.
Storm of Ink 