If I could run away
I’d join a flying circus
Chat with the lions
Chant with the crowd
Joke with the clowns
Dance with the acrobats
Crawl with the trapeze artists
Hide with the magician
Wrestle with the roar of the tiger
Walk with the Bear
Fall in love with the sideshow
Sit between the caramel apples
and the cotton candy
If I could run away
It wouldn’t solve any of my problems
Check out my books!
The fables between us
Satirical metaphors prance
The ironies bleed pretty white lies
Sarcasm bursts like ejaculation
Covered in Satan’s thick liquid
Storybook pages stick together
The fables between us
Sardonic recitals
Recited by jesters and
Ponies dance in time while
His portal opens to swallow us all
Sadistic hymns
Written by gargoyles and
Unicorns prance in the clocks while
Her throat opens to consume the tale
Sadistic hymns
Hummed at Sunday Mass
Panic the court and
Constable is lighted aflame
Tarnished fairy tales
Scripted by euphoric lovers
Dripping sweat lingers in the air
Scent of religious perfume
Lurks between the satin sheets
Tarnished fairy tales
Playwrights
Tragedians
Star-crossed nothing
But sky
Moonlight paints you
Angel white and me
The daemon
Stonewashed dogma
Doctrines drenched in your spit
Undressed teachings
Relentlessly misinterpreted
Forgotten verses
Lyrics shredded
Constantly concaved
Staring into the phantasm
Sucked in by your gospel
Stonewashed dogma
Canon loaded
Peace be with you…
Kindra – Italics
Check out her blog if you haven’t! It’s always fun to collaborate with Kindra!
Braeden – Non Italics
Above the Great Banyan
A tiny plane soars through the fog
Crate of quarters hits up against
the thin and damaged door
Back and forth
Pilot ignores the obnoxiousness
Only the sound of the engine
No more noise
Falling quarters
Check out my books!
From the depths and the
foaming shallow
Cries an underworld of blustering trees
Branches ranting and fuming
Leaves of agony seething
Gawking at the disquieting mud
Peeking at the malignant roots
Residing behind the fierce dwellers
Limbs dangerously curving
Howling and gnawing at silence
Irritations settle among the area
Violence escalates throughout the soil
I see paradise in your
endearing photograph
Can’t stop looking at you
I see utopia on your
alluring lipstick
Can’t stop looking at you
I see the garden of Eden
in your mystical eyes
Can’t stop looking at you
I see milk and honey
from head to toe
Can’t stop looking at you
I see perfection and
and everlasting desire for you
Never will I stop
looking at you
Sweet brown sugar
Habenero pepper on her lips
Invigorating serene eyes
Dashing wild smile
Intellectual stimulating
Culturally educated
Admiring her heritage
Embracing her history
to build a brilliant future
Desiring your seductive mind
Appreciating the center
Itching to just be beside you
Absorbing your presence
Thoughts of you are magical
Nobody told
you to put yourself
on a shelf
You will laugh
You will smile
Nobody told
you that you didn’t
have potential
You will achieve
You will accomplish
Nobody told
you that you will
be lonely forever
You will find him
You will see him
Nobody told you
that was going to
be easy
Gasping for grasping
At the end of the line
Spinning circles
At the end of the rope
Hearing not listening
At the end of the illusion
Unadaptable and difficult
At the end of the mirage
Impenetrable and brick
At the end of the delusion
Sucked in a vicious cycle
At the end of the fabrications
Never ending spiral
He traded a Jose Canseco
baseball card for a catchers mitt
He gave his best friend twenty bucks
to ask Robin Metzger out for him
He took his graduation money
to purchase a car that lasted 8 months
He took an ounce of weed
to college to bribe his teacher
He asked his cell mate
for a pack of cigarettes
He got out of prison four years later
and had no clue where he was
I’m caught between syndromes and prescriptions. I’m slipping in the separation of loneliness and sadness. I have fallen in the hands of broken angels and laughing demons. I can feel the down pouring melancholy fill up the emptiness. I sulk in the fields of depression beside wishes and painted dreams. I’m sitting in the middle of insomnia and awakened tear drops. I watched the clown die on the inside. I stood on the outside of the circus and saw the crowd. I will always be on the outside looking in. I’m surrounded by beliefs and stuck in oppression. I’ve dug a grave in my creativity. I wear sensitivity on my sleeve. I can’t remove if I tried. I want a blanket of love that’s never been made. I seek a yearn that doesn’t exist. You will feel the craving when I’m gone. You will be on the inside finally looking in. The puzzle will be complete. I don’t belong on this earth. I want to lay beside Dylan Thomas and Allen Ginsberg. Read between the lines.
Constantly disoriented
frozen whispers speak to me
A deep hunger
to be understood
An appetite
to be stirred by intimacy
No one cares
No one shows it
Efforts are fallen between
the cracks
No one hears me
No one listens
Distorted perception wakens
This is my canvas
Only a writer, a poet,
will gravitate to my words
To everyone else
I am not here
Dysfunctional dwellers
Constantly in denial
Stagnant in turmoil
Refusing to look outward
A cycle of being inward
Analytically in overdrive
Negative vocabulary
Mangled in a mess
Aching for affection
Seeking flashing attention
No verses can disguise
the barbwire truth
Furious on the inside
Depression settles like dust
A intact plan merges
Ignoring my needs
Methodical and analytical
Reread the chorus
Every day was an opportunity
you threw away to show me
Nothing will prepare you
for what I’m about to do….
Staring into the
desolate snow globe
watching my brittle
tears howl from the chair
Craving novacane for
my anorexic heart
Gravitating to the infection
that is soaking to
my sensitive past
Refusing to retrace
my footsteps of
Chestnut street
Tangled ghosts weave
through out my
strewed mind
Only to see a glimpse
of a debilitating disease
Concentrating on the
disappearing inner tyke
Becoming a nomad within
Placing my hands in my
ragged and faded jeans
trying to capture the light
of playing hopscotch
No matter how many times
I seek the clarity and purity
of my jagged youth
Chestnut Street is just a sign
on a ten foot pole
*Laurel has asked me to use this street name for the Challenge.
The stench will never disappear. I sit here in agony replaying the years in my head. I stare into the pitch black and contemplating the decisions that I have made in my colorful life. I was a jester. I have discarded all the useful cards in the deck only leaving myself with only a few to hold in my tired hands. I steer away from the root. I run away from the tears that refuse to see the sun. I was the fool in believing in the word forever. You took me for granted. I took you for granted. You didn’t have the ability to own up in your own mistakes. You chose to be stagnant. I thought I was the infant in this relationship. I took my vows seriously. My heart is full of mush, layers of sensitivity, and the cream you find in the center of a donut. I wanted more. I craved depth. I took responsibility of my actions. I stumbled away shapeless seeking the truth. I am a lost soul. All I can see is a twinkling light. I will find my way out. If there is one thing I do well it’s being persistent. Nobody will tell me I can’t do something.
Exchanging blows
Trouncing the integrity
Parading with clout
Testifying with a punch
Ruthless and cold
Clobbering with animosity
Losing perspective
Gaining self worth
Sitting on a Island
without a blanket of protection
Circling apathy
with loneliness on a death bed
Persecuting myself
Questioning my beliefs
Constantly defending my being
Slowly giving up to society’s views
Storm of Ink 