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

Check out Lisa’s blog, if you haven’t. You will read some great stuff!

‘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

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!

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!

(1st Verse)
I tried to stand back
Took a good look at my perception
I tried to break the patterns
Glanced at all the things I measured
I could only feel the storms
Somehow I could never see
I wish you could take away the pain
You make it so hard to believe

Chorus:
I’ve read every line in the scripture
But I still tend to see the dark
I’ve said a thousand prayers
But I can still see a million pieces of my heart
Please forgive me, I don’t understand
I’m not a savior, I’m just a man.

(2nd Verse)
I tried to take a step forward
All I seem to do is fall
I tried to search for the answers
on the other side of the wall
I could only feel light fading
Maybe I need to change my point of view
I wish you could change the way I think
So that I can fully understand you

(Bridge)
Tell me God
How can I love myself
Tell me God
How can I see something you only can
Tell me God
How can I see words that I can’t feel
Tell me God
How do I read something I don’t understand

Chorus:
I’ve read every line in the scripture
But I still tend to see the dark
I’ve said a thousand prayers
But I can still see a million pieces of my heart
Please forgive me, I don’t understand
I’m not a savior, I’m just a man.

(1st Verse)
Walking with a clenched fist,
Never did I think you did exist.
You have proven yourself time after time,
Even though I did walk so blind.
You took me in when I didn’t think you would,
You showed me all that is good.
There is something I need you to understand,
I didn’t think down this road you would be holding my hand…

Chorus:
I can see your footprints down Hallelujah road,
I can feel your hands wrapped around my soul.
Surrendered myself and the colors seem so bright,
Down Hallelujah road you became the center of my life.

(2nd Verse)
Walking with a silent voice,
Never did I realize it was all about choice.
You have proven yourself like never before,
Even though I refused to open up the door.
There is something I need you to understand,
I had no idea that this was all a plan.

Chorus:
I can see your footprints down Hallelujah road,
I can feel your hands wrapped around my soul.
Surrendered myself and the colors seem so bright,
Down Hallelujah road you became the center of my life.

Bridge:
You made me cry,
You made me survive.
You made me plead,
You made me get on my knees.
You made me see your vision,
You made me stop and listen.
You made me thank you for who you are and who I am.
You made me see, you will be with me until the end.

Chorus:
I can see your footprints down Hallelujah road,
I can feel your hands wrapped around my soul.
Surrendered myself and the colors seem so bright,
Down Hallelujah road you became the center of my life.

I am only home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I moved away for a job and it’s been a journey since then. When I met my family my brother pointed something out that made him teary eyed. There were names of deceased family members on the tables. I saw my aunts name, my mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers, and my cousin. I looked around the room as tears fell from my eyes. My brother saw me and hugged me. Although we are very different in many aspects we are the same. We moved over to the corner of the room and told me how our mom would be so proud of me. In his own words he actually expressed how much he loved me and missed me. This is something he would do when he was drunk. He didn’t have an ounce of alcohol in him. Naturally I cried as he spoke. I saw my brother in a different light. A part of me moved away for a job and part of me moved away from my family. In my eyes, growing up and still today I feel misunderstood. I want to unravel all the feelings we all feel in my writing. I want to write from different perspectives. I told my brother the other day I have three published books. In my head I spend my time writing wanting to leave something behind, my legacy. Perhaps on the blog this is where I am understood. But my brother for once understood me. He could see parts of me that are broken. He could see why I write from other perspectives. It’s easier for me to write from other points of view because I have some pieces I don’t want to look at. He could clearly see I just didn’t move away for a job.

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?