The quiet man is a cerebral hunter. The quiet man gravitates to the intellect. He is absorbed into observing and memorizing behavior. The quiet man is a visionary. The quiet man is complex and fascinated with the dynamics of relationships. The quiet man values quality not quantity. The quiet man sees the world through others. The quiet man seeks purity. The quiet man seeks beauty in all; perhaps he sits silently in the distance. The quiet man seeks simplicity in the complex. The quiet man is methodical and artistic. The quiet man is an optimist and embraces the warmth of humans. The quiet man is not a perfectionist. The quiet man admits when he is wrong and does not judge. The quiet man believes in the phrase “I can”. The quiet man sees the value of stages: growth and the truth. The quiet man reaches for spirituality. The quiet man has high standards and is goal oriented. He believes in equality. He is captivated by harmony and the melody of humans. The quiet man is viewed as an anti-socialist by others, a volcano ready to erupt. The quiet man defies social labels. The quiet man is blind by color, but can clearly see ignorance. The quiet man does not have the answers for everything, but only has perception. The quiet man does not like drama or self-pity. The quiet man is ambitious. The quiet man is shaken by intimacy. The quiet man is disturbed by his emotions. Perhaps the quiet man is tired of how he is viewed and labeled. The quiet man is not quiet. Perhaps no one listens to the quiet man, and how could they? The quiet man’s tongue is burning. The quiet man’s perception of himself is mediocrity. When the quiet man speaks, heads turn. People ignore the quiet man. Nobody cares what the quiet man has to say. He knows how he is viewed and would like the change that perception. As much as he tries to change, the label sticks. The quiet man is invisible. What is the quiet man to do? The quiet man is speechless. The quiet man is patient. The quiet man does not want to be the center of attention, but just to be noticed for something else than being quiet. The quiet man is misunderstood. The quiet man is not superficial. Perhaps others are wearing a mask. Perhaps the quiet man is afraid of what others will say when he speaks. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be himself and be accepted for who he is, not a label. Perhaps we are all labeled in society from the minute we are born; from each stage of life that we enter. Someone gave you a label and it stuck. The reality is that every one of us is different. We are who we are and can’t change that. We like what we like and dislike what we dislike. The minute we speak of it, we are judged not for who we are, but interests. People bond due to interest in general, not for how we approach, live, and manage our lives. Perhaps the quiet man just wants to be accepted for who he is…doesn’t anyone care what the quiet man’s perception is? Maybe if we dug beyond the surface of people, everyone is beautiful in some small way. We all have quirks hang-ups, baggage, skeletons in the closets, and that really shouldn’t matter. Does that define who we are? No.

I can’t tell

If I’m lost

or if I’m just not found

I can’t tell

If I’m confused

or if I’m in a fog

I can’t tell

If I’m the enigma

or if I’m missing pieces

I can’t tell

If I’m scared of myself

or just want to be hidden

I can’t tell

If I’m in a movie

or my reality is dramatic

I can’t tell

if I’m an introvert

or I just enjoy being alone

I can’t tell

if I want to live

or if I’m content being alive

I’m a blurry train wreck
I’m the bottom of a pit
I’m the black ice in the winter
I’m the darkest rain cloud
I’m the sting from the bee
I’m a fading car crash
I’m the dust on the ground
I’m the tears in my lonely eyes
I’m a distant social disease
I’m the monster under my bed
I’m the skeleton in my closet
I’m the spider creating my own web
I’m the tarantula in the desert
I’m the demon in my soul

I saw you between the kaleidoscopic tears and wretched veins. I kept my distance and harbored the burnt edges of my existence. I clashed with harmony and my own walls that I have personally built. I stand between your denial and my built up frustrations. I walk away to hold on to my sanity knowing my dreams will never come true. I live for you. I live for what I love not the picket fences you created. I always thought love was elastic.

****

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Rambunctious vile

Distasteful and loathsome

Repellant personality

Excruciating voice

Webs of rancid exteriors

A horrid smell of selfishness

Obnoxious point of view

Infamous small mind

Vindictiveness renders

Full filling the lonely

Unable to stand

Crawling like a two month baby

Expecting society to

play an orchestra for a

Prozac Nation

Chasing a high-pitch shout

down an empty bottle

Retracing every convoluted

and mindless discussion

that was conjured up

Deciding not to dwell or

wallow in your demise

doesn’t change that I

can feel every chard of glass

down Broken Bottle Highway

You call yourself a lost soul

but parts of you just vanish

You claim to seek the answers

to the questions you already know

Along the path of stubbornness

Broken Bottle Highway

runs parallel to your demons

Overflowing drops of sadness

crash the grounds of reality

Waves of anger and frustration

soar through every vein

Camouflaging the numbness

wakens the frozen memories

Slowly losing the crack of a smile

shades of grey and black entwine

A living ghost I am, alone—

all that is left of you

I talk in my sleep when I’m wide awake

In limbo I reach out to you,

my anchor in the fog

Overflowing mourning bellows

shattering the reflection in the mirror

Staring into the depths of your selfishness

stirring the darkest hurricanes

Consuming prescriptions of self-hatred

scream at your tarnished soul

Slowly your existence forever fades

whirlwinds of chaos downpour into your loved ones

A living ghost I am, alone—

evidence of your life

I keep together with special effects

And all I want is to touch you,


my anchor in the fog

Overflowing rain of melancholy

drip into the silence of your grave

Crumbled walls are now at your feet

as clouds hang over your torn shadow

Dwelling into your perfectionism

dismantles your steel cage

Slowly your wishes become true

Your actions speak a thousand poems

than the words you spoke alive

A living ghost I am no more—

I’ll breathe for me and you

Laugh for me and you, love for me and you

But still, I want to hold you tight,


my anchor in the fog

B.M. – Non italics parts

K.A – Italic Part

Collaboration of Braeden Michaels & Kindra M. Austin

Poemsandparagraphs.wordpress.com

I enjoyed collaborating with Kindra. It was easy. Her writing is real, raw, and honest to the core. Check out her blog.

Your deepest scars

don’t define who you are

Your deepest scars

walk away from the sunset

Your deepest scars

don’t stare into the light

Your deepest scars

hide behind the plum tree

Your deepest scars

don’t scream at the rage

Your deepest scars

have burnt everlasting edges

Your deepest scars

don’t speak in front of millions

Your deepest scars

never fade in the chapter

Your deepest scars

don’t disappear in the journey

Your deepest scars

shape your colorful soul

Your deepest scars

make you gorgeous

Injecting balladry

like it’s a antiseptic

Using your tiny

carry on thesaurus

to captivate the innocent

Swallowing cups of caffeine

to fill a concave

wretched black heart

Drunken saliva dripping

down your male oversized chin

Sunken and carved out

slurping the Devil’s wine

Casting judgement

from an empty phantom

A mindless hippocrate

Not realizing you are

an uneducated stalker


Condescending aficionado
speaks from a barbaric abyss
Staking claims and forecasts
reeking of gin and vermouth

He paws
He claws
Relentless and crude

Staring at her fishnet stalkings
waiting for her lipstick stains
delicious Coca Cola bottle curves
Inhaling her wicked scent

He probes
He pushes
Distasteful and off putting

Sucking in helium and lithium
personality rising higher than balloons
Viewing others as outcasts
engaging as a insidious vulture

He commands
He yells
Unforgiving and selfish

Demanding perverse declarations
Instilling superficial values
She crawls away from the blood hound
gazing at the sign of bittersweet crossroads

She kicks
She cries
Embracing the freedom

Clarity settles around my ankles

Shackles tightly circling my wrists

A opaque warrant for the end

In arial font harshly awakens

crawling dismembered spiders

around my distant coffin

No eulogy or words will be spoken

Just an empty room of formalities

Guests sitting out of obligation

As time passes as I’m alive

Leave me in the closet with

the laughing faded skeleton

Playing chess with my demons

No tears for the desolate child within

Walk away from my numb ghost

Shaking hands with apathy

Disheartened by those who make

false claims and promises

Leave me abandoned in the dusk

****

Check out my new book!

This is really good! I love this!

Stella's avatarStella

Gliding across broken glass

In her eighteenth century garb

Dragging hot coals

Igniting flames in her path

Submissive demons bow down to her

She spews her unforgivable sins

Her actions show no remorse

She sharpens her tongue for more precise slices

She pushes the almighty with an unfelt shove

Her name is sprinkled in the King James like poison fourteen times

Her wrists and ankles adorned with us breakable chains

She carefully makes her bed in the lake of fire

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Roaming the uneven concrete

like a slobbering bloodhound

A vagabond meandering

through a decorated parade

Mischievous and unorthodox

Offensive and crude

Admittance of displacement

A lurking deadly reptile

Preaching to be resentful

Disfigure emotionally of others

A rancid phlegm among millions

The sauntering antichrist

Writing with a light shade of pink

Paragraphs of wit and charm

Hallucinations of bitter love

Caught up in unknown webs

Burying summer flings and

hypnotic one night stands

Self inflicted wounds never sewn

The bookmark never leaves

this etched and engraved page

It’s the single page that altered

her perception of love and self

You gave me

a ray of sunshine to view humanity

You gave me

the glue to put my shell together

You gave me

a hand to hold the weight on my shoulders

You gave me

dripping sincerity and truth

You gave me

the candle to hold the endangered flame

You gave me

a sense of puzzling wonder

You gave me

a band aid to disguise the pain

You gave me

a cold cloth to cleanse the self worth