Photographs stir inside
Grasping a birthday wish
Thirst and hunger subside
Frustrations built like a wall

Slowly, yet with sated ease,
Allowing you to enter,
You break the walls of slicing past
And pull me from my centre

Staring at what I should have done
Gravitating to a brand new me
No longer sipping on cravings
Voices stretch out to you

Allowing words to touch my sense
It may have left me long ago…
And in the midst of innocence
I tremble as new wings grow

Sweet fascination spreads
Leaping for your finger tips
Throwing away could haves
October skies open up

I let the rain pour over me
Cleanse my doubts and cure my mind,
Cast out shadows of bruised yesterdays
Tiptoe through days I’m yet to find

Reborn and teary eyed
Appreciation drenched in our song
Fallen and tattered
Still seeing and clenching on to you

My voice cries notes of you and I,
You heal my wounds, I will not die
In storms I hold you, beat your heart
A molten canvas, whispered art.


Braeden – Non Italics

Fiery – Italics

Check out Fiery’s blog if you haven’t! This was really fun and enjoyed collaborating with her!

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!

Unpaved pitch black
Torturous and twisting
Glaring at a rustic sign
Unrecognizable and foreign
A lump in my throat

Cracked rear view mirror
Pieces of a faded sunset
Reflect a wrong direction
No map to point us South
Toward a new life, new route

Passing up Evergreen Cafe
Sipping on luke warm French Vanilla
Clenching to my hand
Whispering fear next to me
Grasping onto hope like a flask

I slip a quarter in the jukebox
My lips moving to a song
Forgotten in the tattered backseat
A memory that makes me yearn
For heat, flesh and forgiveness

Locked in the friend zone
Secrets guarded with a flag
Minimal and discrete conversation
Continually crossing borders
Stations only turned twice

Silence embraces then suffocates
Greener pastures a mirage
Our defenses are stone walls
Covered with heavy sighs
My hand crosses the fine line

Stuck at a broken light
Struck by the moving sensation
Trying to hide the risen tension
As she stares at my flush face
Urges from her leap forward

Unsure if he will yield
to the congestion of emotion
My smile a signal or a hazard
Time for me to shift gears
And fuel his lost passion

In the midst of driving
Unthinkable and unforgettable
Lips surrounded
Lighting a fire
Masterful tongue

The windows fogged
With curvaceous temptation
Our journey begins anew
A landscape drawn and devoured
In flashes of passing lights

Barriers removed
No caution tape around
Wanted and needed
Slipping into her palm
Astonished and amazed


Braeden – Non Italics

Amberangst – Italics

Check out Whiskey Tales and Spells if you haven’t! This was really fun to collaborate with her!

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

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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.

“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.

Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren’t weeping, they went stark-raving mad,
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill,
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins,
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said “Buddy, come on in, ’cause
‘Cause the dreams ain’t broken down here now, they’re walking with a limp
Now that Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight”
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm’s been disconnected,
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the Fifth Amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on Forty-Second Street,
And now the umbrellas ain’t got a chance
And the newsboy’s a lunatic with stains on his pants, ’cause
‘Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

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

Stumbling in and out
A blurry vision stuck in the corner
Moments ripped at the seams
Strangers on the edge of thirst

There was a rush
Some unspoken urgency
His alluring eyes dripped desire
Intoxicated with need

Thoughts unraveled
Urges climbing to the top
Animalistic hunger bitten
Senses enhanced

A throbbing pain
Engulfed her senses
Enthralled and smitten
By his glance

Intensity bursting
Hidden gliding hand
Slightly revealing
Inevitable attraction

Both were in trance
Captive in each other’s arms
Heaving and breathing
Forgetting all moral qualms

Deep thrusts of fire
Like a train in a tunnel
Torn clothes
Devouring velvet

Their night of passion
Met the break of dawn
They savored each moment
And moaned to climax


Braeden – Italics

Sakshi– Non Italics

Check out Sakshi’s blog if you haven’t!

(1st Verse)
I’ve been chasing rainbows in the dark
As you pull the strings on my heart
Wondering where can I turn
I’ve been misled by the curves of your words
As I stand in the quicksand of the hurt
Wondering if I will ever learn

CHORUS:
I’ve leaned in too far, too quick and too fast
Something about this tells this wasn’t built to last
I’ve ignored the logic and leaned toward all the emotions
Something about this tells me you aren’t about devotion
Something about this tells me you are already gone
Something about this tells me I’m not wrong

(2nd Verse)
I’ve been running against my intuition
Finally seeing something inside is missing
Wondering if I will ever see the message
I’ve been walking alone hand in hand
Finally seeing you won’t ever understand
Wondering if I’ve asked all the right questions

CHORUS:
I’ve leaned in too far, too quick and too fast
Something about this tells this wasn’t built to last
I’ve ignored the logic and leaned toward all the emotions
Something about this tells me you aren’t about devotion
Something about this tells me you are already gone
Something about this tells me I’m not wrong

Bridge:
And the walls are caving in
You are no where to be found
And when things seem to get tough
You are not around
And the pain seeps further in
You twist the story every time
And our world seems to fade
You seem to leave my mind

(2x) CHORUS:
I’ve leaned in too far, too quick and too fast
Something about this tells this wasn’t built to last
I’ve ignored the logic and leaned toward all the emotions
Something about this tells me you aren’t about devotion
Something about this tells me you are already gone
Something about this tells me I’m not wrong