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
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
She will care for thirty seconds and write a novella of accusations She will pine for your sensitive hands and cry a stream of tears from a distance She will crave hours of chit chat and stare at grim skeletons in silence She will dance and twirl in the garden and be embarrassed of her defects in loneliness
“In my view, I was raped by his alluring vocabulary, molested by his wit and probed by his twinkling generosity. He turned me into a walking paradox.”
And the mystery within her dwells And the inconsistency smears her delusions And the absurdity fills her weary lungs And the enigma is like condensation And the anomaly marches within her mind
She will walk with poise and diligence and shout with obscenities doused in wildfire She will cherish the remains and residue and toss her pieces she loathes in the garbage She will wrap herself up in sanitized anxiety and chuck courage up against the wall She will run with convictions in her fist and ignore the principles that define her
And the secrecy within her is desolate And the conundrum drips frustration And the perplexity drains her focus And the complications steer her vision And the rattle stumbles within her mind
“In my perspective, I was poisoned by his compliments, fondled by his intellect and abused by his sincere confidence. He turned me into a walking paradox.”
She’s exhausted from spilling ink She’s uncertain with her fingertips She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside She’s powerless from the past She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper Sing me a song for wide hope Sing me a song for stretched out faith
She’s frail within her bones She’s isolated from the rattle She’s licking her wounds quietly She’s aching for companionship She’s comfortless and abandoned Sing me a song for freedom Sing me a song without chains
She’s tangled up in desolation She’s withdrawn and torn down She’s a tragedy without a witness She’s reclusive and friendless She’s a sky without any clouds Sing me a song for change Sing me a song for healing
Antidotes tasting like black coffee A chalk outline of Patterson’s grumbles China dolls parade 13th street with residue on the corners of their mouths Adversaries hack up off colored jokes under a jagged and teary eyed sun whispering forgotten fairy tales “I can’t shine, I don’t have time, I’m lost and forgotten in these rhymes”
And the ghost of Patterson counts his secrets Smears his name at the gates for attention Picking the lock, shouting at the kingdom
Romantics playing hopscotch on cracked and overused sidewalks Protagonists and thieves banter in the smog at Jameson’s bar on Kingsman Cynics and skeptics erasing evidence of hope on belligerent walls Butterflies flying over restless Samaritan’s chained to oxidized dumpsters Walker struts with a nervous alibi
And the ghost of Patterson counts the bullets painting his name on the golden walls Crouched down, yelling at the kingdom
Walker stalks the neighbors, wrestles with friction, and turns into a killjoy Leaking out minor details and spilling of a lethal homicide filled with inquiries Butterflies swarm the garden, surrounding a sealed box Sounds of an ax break the venerable crate Intriguing signatures, bag of money, and a letter from Patterson to a world class criminal Conviction and Walker go hand in hand
And the ghost of Patterson sheds its feathers Staring up at a dot of light, Staring down at a dot of black, Cemented in a glass underworld
I use to wear a serenading taxi cab colored sweatshirt with a patch of of birds heading south for the winter to Morgan’s house She’d always laugh at the caption below “Are we there yet?” and pour me a drink She paraded her fathers den that reeked of nicotine and late night affairs Flipping through the eclectic taste of albums Spinning the quarter in the afternoon air Indecisiveness roaming like a soldier Morgan was the advocate of passive aggressiveness Mumbling curse words and playing with a rubber band in tangled dialogues Morgan would often lean in and tap her fingers on my thigh as if she was playing the piano Slightly obtrusive and deliberately coy Consistently playing word games with my emotions Shouting “Love is fickle, but you could dance with me for a nickel” Often devilish wearing a copper halo Tossing idioms between stirred pauses Blatantly ignoring the officer in the pictures on the olive walls She referred to him as the man that dragged her from state to state Leaving her in decorated homes with meaningless jewelry Constantly toying with closeness and distance with my lips in the sanctuary Shaking my head from the autumn perfume From month to month my title changed from tool box to aberration On that fateful hour I made the doorbell sing and no one replied Glancing down at the welcome mat I picked up the ivory envelope Ramblings were engraved and cemented Paragraphs leaving a starry eyed melody Entranced by the last line that catapulted reality “The officer who claims to be my father hasn’t taught me how to say goodbye”
For you and the truth, I lay awake circling my vulnerability I can taste the poison on my tongue I dwell in my pond of insecurities I gnaw at my unspoken and sedated soul I claw at my resilience with my tired fingers I pick at my invisible wounds with an axe I watch the apprehension hang over my head I whisper to my demons “listen to the crack”
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
For you and the truth, I find myself misplaced and disoriented I spot the conditions and uncontrollable urges I removed the hindering spotlight I am haunted by my effervescent carnival I have waved goodbye to the magnetic carousel I steer toward the corridor of isolation I clutch on to the paradise dancing in your eyes I am sinking in the malevolent circus
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
For you and the truth, I am weeping on the inside in this masquerade I am praying I will find edges of my identity I leave my pieces behind reaching for you I grip on to tomorrow and replay yesterdays I cough up the suffocating air and sorrow I choke on my frustrations and crooked thunder I see the lightning in my affliction I recognize the heartache that flickers within
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
Between the ivory blank page and the tangle among the frozen words I grunted frustrations and dabbed my fingers in the reverberating clouds Love was written for daydreamers I vigorously plucked the petals from the fortune teller’s teary eyed rose Agony and torment stretched out along my hypersensitive spine Tenderness was shattered into fragments glaring at the distinguished pieces Astonished from the inward discovery never seeking the grace within Clarity crept in under a cherry tree
She murmured sardonic puns, three line riddles and a secret written by her morning phantom She was sipping on Coca Cola with percolating eyelashes carrying a catatonic grin I sighed “your diabolical scent is quite ravishing and eloquent”
I didn’t mean to ignite the past I didn’t mean to love you with the left eye I didn’t mean to fall so hard with a faithless romantic
She gargled bits of authenticity, lucid theories, and swallowed a vitamin of intensity She often spills her aggression, animosity, and uneven morals in her bloodhound diary I cringed “your radiant light is piercing through the thick of the night”
I didn’t mean to surrender to your heart of stone I didn’t mean to adore your nightmares I didn’t mean to wipe away the rain in the storms
She has a mystifying language drenched in symbolism and an accent with a pinch of kindness She miscalculated and misplaced the affection I gasped “your insidious magic feels like gold, makes me wonder why your story hasn’t been told”
I didn’t mean to say those words I didn’t mean to remove your veil I didn’t mean to make you so afraid
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.
Grappling with a toxic incubus Static tangled up in hallucinations A diabolical perpetrator is lurking Dabbling with molecules and carbons And I sleep with annihilation
Memorizing the periodic table of elements Sinister mind combining mercury and lead A splash of chromium, pinch of caesium Blending a explosion in a wicked bottle And I sleep with obliteration
Ensuring a plague like disease spreads wide A blackhearted voice speaks with a chuckle Corrupted hands, apocalyptic intentions Selfishness wrapping around throats And I sleep with termination
Belligerent critters stalking the lands Referencing the last chapter of the divine Symbolic torture rest within the dollars Greed softens up the lips and tongue And I sleep with eradication
A clash of reasons, brawl between sins Fears sobbing until the break of dawn Scent of misery swarmed the dirt End of virtues, end of light And I sleep with a contagious virus
I’ve been cauterized by my figment of my bleary imagination I’ve overlooked the obscurity dripping in the marrow of my bones I’m reminded of my thin sensibilities drifting in a whirl my memories weep in the photograph of Black-Eyed Susans in the vase next to the grin of my brave mother
Thank you for the encouragement Thank you for the warmth Thank you for walking with me in the dark Thank you for the light you gave your grandson
I’ve been sobbing at the gravesite with a four leaf clover clenched in my hand I’ve heard the growl within the pieces of my shattered heart I’ve stared into the loss and the pins sticking in my sensitive nerves my memories weep in the photograph of Black-Eyed Susans in the vase next to the grin of my brave mother
Thank you for the joy Thank you for the unconditional love Thank you for your never ending presence Thank you for the smile you gave your grandson
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.
I’m glaring at a absent generation minds glued to screens, tabloids, Improving technology to do less exercising depreciating value at a ridiculous and outrageous rate waving at the growl of the sunrise four to six times a year, if that operating like a business losing funds I’m gawking at the disappearing fundamentals, the backbone of humanity digress, blaming the collapse of civilization, pointing fingers at plastic leadership, ignorance tattooed from head to toe, wearing air pods to only hear the agendas cloaked in madness environmentalists shaking their heads
“listening” was just a nomadic word fumbling around like a homeless man sipping on vodka from his rustic flask And the billions can feel the blisters on their lackadaisical and passive feet from the furious sun that hides behind sinister clouds, rattle me off that diabolical speech with spite beaming in your eyes I can see our enemies juggling bullets and nuclear warfare with a legislative grin where the truth is hidden, lies are contagious speaking from both sides of the mouth camouflaging motives and authenticity
I have witnessed the formation of the surface world order, removing shovels, eyebrows not raised, accepting mediocrity I am surrounded by mosquitos, snakebites, takers, and a symphony playing in the background of reality where the screams are silent and the violence is obscene I walk throughout the forest to seek peace but only to discover the fall of humanity “Borrow, borrow, borrow, we will pay the high interest tomorrow, and forevermore” the economy fluctuates, bargains with salesmen, trades with allies, shakes hands with the murderers, and the sun boils like it’s sitting on a hot stove at 6:30pm in suburbia waiting for a mother of three to throw in a pound of rigatoni’s to cook, run down and tired from the six hours of restless sleep working two jobs, patiently hanging for her ex husband to knock on her sanguine door to hand her a a child support check that will most likely bounce
And the children develop atrocious habits, slightly dysfunctional, erratic behavior, struggling in school, and the therapy bill shows up three months past due And she can’t pay that, saving nickels and dimes to take her joker like ex back to court And the cycle of justice, lack of law spins like a carousel without any pauses education slowly slipping out the pyramid degrees acquired through sixty five inch tv’s while paperback books became archaic illiteracy, comprehension, critical thinking, tossed into a body bag and thrown into the bloodhound River by hundred thousand dollar jesters playing as puppet masters dictating, removing “history”, deciding on relevance, worth and silver dollar merit Suits and paisley ties, accountants, who fixate on numbers lack the ability to “understand” people, individuals, and civilians And the sun cringes at the decision makers, narcissists behind a desk, keep drinking the Devil’s urine, believe in your hypocrisy your bed is on the bottom floor breathing in his arrogance and his cryptic verbiage
I’ve glanced at the complexity of relationships but see the shade of nuances in simplicity break down the triangle into savoring sections remove the minutia, erase the routine create mouthwatering memories, frame the watercolors of kisses and fragments of the beloved tears, surrender to the emotions light up humanity with a endearing greeting extract the labels of humans, classify and only subjects, things, and objects not individuals advertise nothing, be who you are, be the magnet, collect the pieces that make you whole, ignore the punchlines, block out the negativity, embrace the smiles, make new beginnings and say goodbye to the nerve crashing endings, celebrate life, the seconds, move forward, don’t sit still, rely on your instincts, love your shadow, and never stop dreaming, be who you want to be, grow from the sunshine
I steer clear from the plexiglass propaganda, narrow minded narrative and the acidic agenda I chuckle and smirk at the raised clenched fist In my peripheral vision, I can see the dancing tricksters, articulate magicians, and the monotone zombies pacing on the streets I am a stained bystander, observing the division, but put the universe under a microscope and visually see Gods hand holding the earth with tears falling from his cheek, I can hear him whisper a few words, but the only clear word I grasp is “rapture” I can see tragedies thrown into junkyards due to corporations believing anything and everyone is expendable and has a price And the sun turns it’s head, no longer in front of the vast kingdom we speak about And the sun disappears like a unspoken ghost hibernating from the turbulent storms
I scoffed at the down dressed pan handler that quietly entered his Mercedes Benz between Delusive Avenue and Excrement Road I wasn’t startled to hear the egos of pin stripped suits brag about what they owned I drive by the boarded up apartments that have been empty for a decade but filled with rats and carry a stench for endless miles I scan the faded newspaper of the landlord who lives in a palace who is liable for the boxed up belittled residence, slightly haunted and eerie I recognize empty fields, hollow playgrounds, clear parks, and trees that don’t hear a word leaves blowing away, hushed and dampened, melancholy drips into the creeks, fear deepen ideologies hit a threshold, spirituality is a fog serenity is crawling, chaos and havoc strut hand in hand, cynicism is filling the air, humanity generating the poisonous pollution
Storm of Ink 