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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!

by on

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

by on

I hold the most intimate

possessions

I hold your “personal” items

I hold your fixes and thoughts

I hold your chocolate

at the crack of midnight

I hold your lip gloss and chapstick

I hold the second volume

of your cherished diary

I hold items that give you something

that your husband can’t

by on

Rotten and spoiled

Under a behemoth sun

Thick as molasses

Bubbling and boiling

Covered in a thousand ants

Wretched and horrid

Even the dog whimpers

from gory stench

Earth worms screaming

A ruthless sight

Accidentally generated

Even the stars hide

behind the glossy clouds

Ground breaking substance

A couple created

living off the land

No animal will consume

Forever rancid

by on

Woke up in the pitch black
Staring at the reality
Shackled with no hope
Barely crawling
Trying to move my tired body

Sounds of the sizzle
Shuffling of feet
Jameson walked down stairs
Scrambled eggs and bacon
glancing at my swollen eyes

“I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
A phrase that swam in my mind
over and over as I scarfed down grub
No time for drops of tears
No time for sadness
“I can’t stay in these clothes.”

Jameson paced like a rat
Imprints in his rattled mind
Struck a lonely frozen nerve
Nervousness and sweat blend
“I will get you clothes.”

Forgotten details befuddled him
Inside of me snickered
Ignited a circle of thoughts
Finally seeing a shadow
Outsmart the predator

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Hello All,

I would like to issue a challenge to my readers. I would like my readers to give me a creative name for a made up city. Just like the challenge for the roads, your poem will be featured in a book. The category for these poems will be in “Borough Verses.” Dripping Insomnia is the first poem for this category.

Please have fun with it and looking forward to hearing your titles!

~ Braeden Michaels

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Destroyed trust smeared on shingles

Ruins spread out over the dismantled carpet

Locked up gates surrounding decrepit doors

Components of ancient clocks in disgust

Splinters in necks of apathetic voices

Arms folding like a hand of cards

Negligence lingers in the crisp air

Carelessness hobbling on a narrow path

Monotony standing tall and shrewd

Incuriosity bounces like a dodgeball

Separation is coughed up like phlegm

Alienation is the divine appetite

Four mile road of still emptiness

Unfortunately many reside in a glance of reality

by on

She toyed with my emotions
She told me I was cute
She played with my mind
She crawled inside my head

And she spit me out

She craved what she didn’t get
She held the fairy dust
She was bold and controlling
She gripped onto the wicked fire

And she spit me out

She let go once she saw the steam
She used and abused me
She was manipulative and coy
She slithered too far in

And she spit me out

She swallowed too much
She took what she wanted
She was relentless and fierce
She was materialistic and vain

And she spit me out

She was a sensual liquid
She sprinkled lust over my head
She was a dripping eclipse
She opened up the obscene book

And she spit me out

by on

I miss my boyfriend
I miss his hands and lips
I miss his comfort
I miss his warmth

I miss everything I had
I don’t see a way out
All I see is dark and no hope
I miss my life so much

Huffing and puffing
A shadow of a rectangle
Carrying down a mattress
“You will need your rest.”

Tosses blankets on me
Moves the mattress toward me
“Shackles should reach”
I lay on the mattress in distress

He shuffles through boxes
As if he was browsing through
lost and faded memories
“You look like her”

Wiped off the dust of the frame
Handed me the photograph
A woman standing outside this house
“Who is this?”

No response
Words escaped him
Tired and Distraught
Something clicked

“Aren’t you Jameson?”
He turned his head at me
“Yes I am.”
“So you destroyed my parents marriage?”

Nobody told your father to gamble
Nobody told your mom to be a slut
Nobody told your father to throw away money
Nobody told your mom to be easy
Nobody told your father to borrow money
Nobody told your mom to stay married to a liar
Nobody told your father to stay out at all hours
Nobody told your mom to be in a fake marriage
Nobody told your father to stop paying me

Be careful what you say
Be careful what you accuse
Be careful what you imply
Be careful what you ask

by on

Shivering thru the animosity
Like a dungeon with a stench
A fourteen inch rustic door
No remorse or guilt resides
Disappeared in the thick of the night
Tip toeing in the burning fog
Covering her tiny mouth
Eyes wide as tears flood in fear
Disturbed by her resentment
A creeping shadow stands callous

Locking her in the musky trunk
Mystic drive to Blackout Hill
A lost and unknown address
Between crumbled mountains
Surrounded by jagged and lonely trees
A splash of maroon stains
As she attempts to claw away
Carried like a new born baby
in a pitch black bag
Throwing her down like a sack

Gazing up at the scene
Fumbling thru the grudge
Licking a sense of familiarity
Slightly a recognizable face
Face peeks out of the hole
Replaying the anxiety
Cold sweat drips on her frigid skin
Confused in a cellar
Trapped in a vault
Laying on the frozen bedrock

by on

Curling inside the cylinder

Walking on a plane

Cutting up the circle

Seeking the blistering radius

Dissecting the intersection points

Slipping in symmetry

On the edge of a Cartesian distance

Defining the articulation

Inside the angles and 3D lines

Glaring at the 2d lines

Placing the trihedron

Sliding down the cone

Hiding behind the slot

From hexagons to lines

A world of preciseness and exactness

Divine numbers are bold

No gray in the atmosphere

A place without emotions or drama

No mystery in the madness

Problem solved

by on

I feel worthless

No shine

Others are silver

I’m made up of copper

Very little value

Laying in cars

Sleeping on nightstands

A hundred of me

complete a dollar

Often hear “Keep it”

when change is created

I’m not wanted or valued

I feel worthless

One cent says it all

Check out my books!

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I am filled with darkness

and completely empty

I am losing touch

with full packages

I can not relate

Please fill me

with old clothes

to give to the poor

Please fill me

with toys

that children

can play with

Please fill me with

something meaningful

so that I can help

the deprived world

I am empty for a reason

to give others light

by on

I am clear

I am measured

I am defined

I am used every day

I am a necessity

I am used to solve problems

I am beautiful

I am dramatic free

I am essential

I am needed

I am every where

I am value

I am not a color or a race

by on

I’m written on

Sometimes I’m wasted

I’m typed on

Sometimes I’m abused

I can be in different colors

Sometimes I’m crinkled

I’m different sizes

Sometimes I’m over used

I’m made into an airplane

Sometimes I wonder …

If I will ever disappear

by on

I will acknowledge

that I had an affair

I love metaphors

creating imaginary worlds

A written tapestry

Seduced by alliteration

I had an affair

with the craft of language

I’m enthralled by

the layers and symbolism

I’m engaged

to a place to release my tension

I’m in a atmosphere

where I’m understood

I’m in a whirlwind

where I’m forever lost

I’m pulled in

by the legacy of poets

Desiring to fulfill

a long winded fantasy

The affair will continue….