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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

My books are available here.

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Corporate America

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.

My books are available here.

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from upcoming book

The Prologue

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.

My books are available here.

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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.

My books are available here.

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Bitter Honey

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

Even in the dashed hope, the fall was awakening

My books are available here.

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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

And she seduces hour by hour

My books are available here.

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Ceramic Villains

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

Love was just a word that they wanted to believe

My books are available here.

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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

My books are available here.

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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

My books are available here.

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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

My books are available here.

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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

My books are available here.

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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

My books are available here.

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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

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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.

My books are available here.

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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.

My books are available here.

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Scarlet’s Sin

Once upon a secret breeze
thirst and hunger tasted like transgression
Unhinged rage sought out an odyssey
from a provocative voice

And I swim into the deep of the saliva

A voluptuous silhouette in the sky
playing with precarious flames
splash of kerosene, a fatal match
Entwined in intoxicating magic

And I swim into the deep of the cravings

Disoriented from a hazardous touch
A forgotten goodbye evaporated
Dumbfounded and flabbergasted
Sucked in from a beloved sin

And I swim into the deep of the desire

Glazed from the saturation
Distracted and preoccupied
Falling in a pitfall of a fascination
Sinking deeper into the scarlet

And I swim into the deep where I may drown

My books are available here.

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Here I am, I don’t have followers
I have sanguine blisters and
indecisions stirring in my reckless mind
I’ve stood in the corridor of my considerations
and wide eyed aspirations
I’ve been guided by intolerable vices, a stench of trivial knowledge and sarcasm
I have concoctions growing in my garden
I’ve borrowed money from my child like brother
to rent a house not far from the Porcupine River
We use to play like thieves, run like dogs,
and wrestle in the amber mud for hours
I live in a two bedroom apartment,
One block away from the Midtown bakery
On Sunday’s I can smell the Apple fritters
I’ve worked at the local grocery store since I was fifteen
“Lucky” isn’t a word in my vocabulary
I bite my fingernails as I ponder in front of my 1971 typewriter
From 9pm to 10pm I’m a rapid reader
I fell in love with Mark Twain and the storytellers from the innocent wild
Stuck on the lucid and elusive chapter ten
Captivated between the commas and engaging dialogue
I cough at the errors and sniffle at the page count of my thrill seeking novel
I stretch out my imagination like a rubber band
Manuscript growing like a an oak tree
Here I am, born an offbeat writer
The people who know me stand distant
Afraid to crawl inside the brain of characters
I left my day job at the age of forty two
Perspiration and diligence were on my side

My books are available here.