She disguises herself with prescriptions and 1970 cliches. More often she sleeps in black leaves and clenches to the whispers of the blizzard. She prays to the secondhand lions and searches for forgotten riddles. She laughs at horror films and weeps at the comedy classics. She’s never used the word forgiven.
She wrestles with the fears in the morning and drowns in the insomnia at night. She speaks in a language without discretion. She plays with her skeletons in the closet. She ignores the left side of her imagination. She dances to jazz and dips her fingers into white pages to write enigmatic poetry.
She expresses affection with amber kisses and her fingertips. She said goodbye to her fireflies. She built walls with quicksand and tears. She stares at her right side of her imagination. She pleads with the stone truth. She’s witnessed more endings than beginnings.
She circles her anger like a hawk. She’s deprived of human decency. She loves with a small percent of her tattered heart. The rest is locked in a music box surrounded by caution tape. She sings to her frustrations to soothe the madness. She’s in love with only parts of her identity.
For I am the gust in this brilliant joy For I am the hope in these disorientated chapters For I am the trembling suspicion in the corner For I am the optimism in your stained pupils
And the fascination pierces in the burgundy sky
For I am the prosperity in this shattered mirror For I am the wisdom you have never heard For I am the glare in the whispering blur For I am the salt in your four seasons
And the enchantment glows in the burgundy sky
For I am the zest in your shaky bridges For I am the rainbow in your weeping azure For I am the shine in your rusty screams For I am the fear in your gripping wishes
And the artistry blooms in the burgundy sky
For I am the peace in your self destruction For I am the grit in your sandcastle For I am the treasure you haven’t touched For I am the daydream in your hallucinations
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.
Excess and greed on your tongue is a virus concrete selfishness in your bones is a virus distaste is a pill you swallow that tsunamis into a virus malice is a never ending cough that explodes into a virus
And the spiral continues due to mass consumption And the circular poison seeps into your oxygen
hatred is a migraine that curves into a virus envy is a venom that distorts into a shape of a virus contempt is a concoction that awakens a virus indulgence is a sip of vertigo that provokes a virus
And the longing for abundant security boils your integrity in your blood cells And the hunger for wealth evolves in extermination
And I tumbled for the architecture of the cathedrals across the United States, And the bricklayers who cemented spirituality but shouted from rooftops at the turtle pace of change among all the religions And I found the backbone of faith and hope relies on the individuals silver wisdom “Experience” breaks or defines conviction And loyalty just doesn’t reside in a chapel I pray for the dying in my queen size bed blending creed and politics is a toxic brew And I cherished the artistic expressions on the tarp, I was once fond of the textures of our melting pot, I could taste the spices and the tranquility, I use to take walks in the garden of glee and feel the gust
But now the commander in chief raises his disturbing hands, disrespecting our ancestors, crippling the population, And the sun bursts through the smog with fury, the outbreak surges in the wind
The note is rejected… “embrace all the materialism, self righteous possessions, gold and glitter, let the poison eat your soul, feel the edges of your heart burn, you prioritized your choices, the angels left you a long time ago”
I can’t weep for the wicked and vicious I can’t weep for the manipulating tycoon I can’t weep for the shallow ministry I can’t weep for the blatant facade I can’t weep for the glowing charades I can’t weep for the brazen frontage I can’t weep for the vibrant myths I can’t weep for the singing deception
And the chill in the air reeks of self indulgence insects crawling on infectious patriarchs but numb from the riddles of greed spewing a language of hatred and fear And tearing into the poverty stricken class gazing out into the seas of madness And the wrecking machine, mechanisms, and the machinery used to oversee the mass It’s the weapon and invisible bomb slithering inside every human nervous system You cry out safety and protection, misleading from your glass throne, step by step you are entering your exodus, your skin is exiled but your veins are hollow, calling yourself a leader, rushing to dismantle and depopulate And the pieces of the massacre lies within you
But now the commander in chief raises his disturbing hands, disrespecting our ancestors, crippling the population, And the sun bursts through the smog with fury, the outbreak surges in the wind
The note is rejected… “embrace all the materialism, self righteous possessions, gold and glitter, let the poison eat your soul, feel the edges of your heart burn, you prioritized your choices, the angels left you a long time ago”
I can weep for the innocent I can weep for the fighters and warriors I can weep for the fearless soldiers I can weep for the sobbing children I can weep for the unheard prayers I can weep for the melody I never heard I can weep for the deserving souls I can weep for the fathers and mothers
And the sun will forever moan behind the clouds And technology will continue to evolve And God will remain quiet until the day he returns He will leave the soulless the keys to the inferno
I’m scrawling, swept away from the discord, pleading to the amber crescent, hanging in the audacious sky, gazing at the mindless clones, no dismay of what will become, aggravation turns into stone, eyelashes curve into dust, puddles of demise, a graphite cyclone revolving around the fall, a population relinquishing to the avalanche, I scowl to the prognosis, hindsight is rubble, my conjecture is not a conspiracy, veracity is underneath the facade, I refuse to swallow the debris, I trash the publications, I displace the buzzards, I ignore the indoctrination, I carry my drum, I am the feather that flies with placid eyes, I don’t place stamps on foreheads
To the awaken moon, I give you a letter of a thousand reasons To the awaken moon, I am fond of your glow To the awaken moon, I send you a letter to pass on to the unconscious sun
To the helpless sun, the indifference is a path to nevermore, but show us your sparkle, we pine for your radiance, numbness is not your color, your rays are in mourning, the lechery is within the choice, the preference to wear blinders, floundering into traps, shuffling excuses, pardon the shallow, explanation with holes, to the sun you are not accountable
I’m scrawling, furiously with an ambiguous message, forgive the gratuitous cyborgs, deception and the distortion was carved, the falsehood was chiseled, sculpted by self centered dastards, mercenaries injecting conflict with psychological warfare, no intersections, a blue print of disjuncture, a frazzled atmosphere, frayed and stripped, scoundrels running ramped, policies dipped into indulgence, documents soaked in disarray, I lean into the incoherent ramblings, methodical studies forged, verbatim tampered with spots of evasion, defamation spreading like a sickness, I refuse to consume the prozac, paragraphs bellow with a enriched voice
To the awaken moon, I give you a letter of a thousand reasons To the awaken moon, I am fond of your glow To the awaken moon, I send you a letter to pass on to the unconscious sun
To the forlorn and damaged sun, please shimmer where there is darkness, let the gleam fill in the crevices, please shine where pieces are lost, let the air rejoice in your magic, please be the aspiration to the cosmos, you are the enlightened preservation, you are the marvelous treasure, without you there is no growth, to the sun – you are not accused for the increased vibrations of the earth
I can foreshadow a society crumbling from applied science, twisting theories contorted plasma, and friction analysis thesis based on wealth and leaking myths Pillars from a system situated in sand a sinking infrastructure, vanishing unity colorless pupils plagued with a manuscript spineless leaders, particles of blunders piling up, giant omissions paralyzing the fabric, Programmed illnesses with a pinch of annihilation, nations weeping counterfeit drops of sadness, gradually seeking contemporary alliances, executive orders bleeding extermination, outlined syndromes with a hint of illusions, corruption in the palms of the establishment, enigmatic statistics catapulted in a ocean of the deceased
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I saw a glimpse of paradise, toddlers playing with brilliance, wonder, and a light breeze serenading through the air as a teenager drinking water from fire hydrants, in front of provincial chateaus, clarity and modesty was a thread, surrounded by a crooning sky of beliefs and faith, conviction is just an antique sitting in a clammy basement, wrapped up in newspaper with headlines of World War Two, buried in a crate labeled “Precious and few”, where dreams shifted, echoed, and the revolution within was smoldering, freedom was sung by entrepreneurs, capitalists, and poetry was a blue jay flying from tree to tree, love was a drink we all consumed and sipped all through the decorated nights, yet today the clowns wear painted tears and smiles are weary
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I am madly in love with the metaphors from Walt Whitman, sweetness waltzing through Dickinson’s verses, where landscapes feel the sunlight, rain drizzling on white picket fences, I fell for the similes that left glitter on my fingertips, ballads that reverberate within the words, stanzas that capture charm, but in the present I read a direct message, thoughts thrown on paper within seconds, impressions not thought provoking, automation becomes a crutch, loneliness seeking attention, reality drifting like a hitchhiker, dwindling patience, crime rising like flames in death-wish fields, scarecrows parading cracked pavement, insanity yells, neon lights flicker every three minutes, like an apocalypse, but keep your view on the illuminating screen, sarcasm spasms, bellies filled with microwaved meals
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve browsed countless articles of chemicals being dumped in soil, animated creeks, flowing rivers, deep cobalt seas, and wide oceans sweep it under the Persian rug, deposit the funds, retract it, close the column, turn off the comments, ignore the facts, don’t read it, let your fog disregard the bedrock of our country, Freedom is the eagle on our printed currency “In God We Trust” wasn’t coined by non- believers, deceivers, and tinted lawmakers In a heap of literature, liberty isn’t just a statue, a symbolism of integrity, war and peace, mother of monuments, breathtaking torch, Goddess of our Declaration of Independence, classic signature standing in Manhattan, New York, she is the sanctuary of our nation, yesterday can’t be expelled, removed or deleted, Can I erase your self-righteous past?
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve seen grownups stomp their feet, throw child like tantrums over slim debates with cursed words thrown like daggers I’ve seen electronic devices used to record heinous crimes, satirical protests, and mind bending disturbances across the globe videographers portraying innocence, displaying evidence, defending irresponsibility I’ve seen switchblades pulled out over loose change and collected indifferences I’ve seen incompetency to be irrelevant, tenure a driving force, dynasties collapsing I’ve seen bewilderment shine brighter than quickness and keen observations I’ve seen enlightenment and murky insight wither in closets at a candlelit masquerade
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I’ve seen cemetery’s of soldiers that gave you rights, freedom, and opportunities I’ve seen flags placed over coffins, brothers in arms subbing, veterans in wheelchairs, struggling to tell a tale, medals of honor with insomnia, abolished slavery, rise of women’s rights, PTSD worn on every soldiers sleeve, But keep your eyelids on the screens, watch “Grand Opening” signs become obsolete, do what you do best, do nothing, stand for nothing, mankind defusing, watch the word “Entitled” become sewn on our flag, replacing the fifty gold stars, watch Betsy Ross cringe, stare into the tears of the sun, feel the winter for decades ahead, watch the selfish gloat, glare at the chill, embrace the still of the frost,
And the nerves of the vicious are numb mankind’s existence dwells in an experiment And I can’t feel the rays of the crying sun
I didn’t advertise this and I should have when I released this book, the majority of poems are personal. This collection was written over a long period of time. Through out my life I’ve used writing poetry as an outlet because I had no one to turn to. My mother passed away at a young age, 48, due to health issues. I grew up watching her being sick but take it like a champion. She was one of the first people to have had a liver transplant. Due to medicine, the medicine at the present time killed her kidneys. Because of this, I struggle with intimacy in many ways. My father was an alcoholic and in my twenties I married one. In my thirties I had outgrown my ex wife and wanted more in life as she digressed. She made the choice to say she didn’t have a problem when she did. Long story short, she killed herself after our divorce and left her daughter behind. I can admit I was not a perfect husband, I did some things I shouldn’t have done.
I went back to school to improve myself while trying to work. During that time, I met the woman I eventually married – a strong but vibrant woman. I fell in love with her ocean blue eyes and her gentle spirit. She works in the medical field to save lives and commend her for that. I now have a four year old son that looks up to me and strive to be a better person.
I want my writing to serve several purposes. I want people to look inward and identity their own destructive patterns that prevent them from any form of growth. Perhaps if you can recognize them, you can see them in others. I think most answers that we seek are within ourselves. We do need help from time time, but essentially it starts with being honest with yourself. But we struggle to look at ourselves because it’s hard.
Although I’ve started out writing from a personal place, I trained myself to write from different perspectives by observing humanity. I’ve also learned to write just for fun, for me, and to challenge myself to approach the writing process from a technical stand point.
I often use humor and sometimes am inappropriate at times because I don’t want people to know the real me because the real fear is that they will leave me. Making and maintaining friendships is a challenge. I don’t have any male friends that I do things with and to some degree I am ok with it for various reasons. I go by the motto “a pen and a piece of paper won’t leave me like people.”
I am a work in progress like everyone else. Today was the day I felt the need to share my a part of my story.
I took vows to be mistaken and unwanted I took vows to be just a carcass I took vows to feel the treacherous winds I took vows to someone that is clueless I took vows to someone that can’t read between the lines I took vows to feel the written script I took vows to someone that can’t hear my words I took vows to talk to myself I took vows to someone that just doesn’t listen I took vows to someone that does the bare minimum I took vows to be a shadow and a check book I took vows when I was someone else I took vows to be a trash can I took vows to someone that refuses to evolve I took vows to feel something because it was better than nothing
No, I couldn’t stand in your resonance and your mind numbing negligence No, I refused to be your noxious scapegoat and omission in your dangerous eyes No, I wouldn’t be a remainder in your lopsided mistake
“Hush hush, nothing will save you” Yes, I thought I was rescued from my haunting past Yes, I thought this residence was permanently carved
No, I dismissed the fatal request but still felt the jagged nail in my back No, I denied you satisfaction and drifted in an awkward disposition No, I fell in your discrimination and felt blackballed from the very second
“Hush hush, nothing will save you” Yes, I thought I was found until I realized the pieces were scattered Yes, I thought this residence was secure and guarded
No, I destroyed the walls you built with your reckless hands No, I stumbled into your humiliation with anxiety stuck to my skin No, I cried until my rage leaked from my mouth
“Hush hush, nothing will save you” Yes, I thought I discovered love in a colorless dream Yes, I thought I found peace when in reality all I heard were silent screams
I know it’s Thursday when the nurse brings the little paper cup with five pills instead of three. A sip of tepid water and I go back to staring out the window. I can’t abide small talk. Never could. Better to observe my surroundings than spin idle words. My wife understood that, why don’t these young kids get that? Always on about the weather and am I comfortable and did I sleep well. Of course I didn’t sleep well. I haven’t slept well since I was brought to this place. I keep quiet, I know when to keep my mouth shut. It’s Thursday and she always made meatloaf with gravy and fresh baked rolls on Thursdays.
I constantly see him gazing. I can see memories crawling up and down a mammoth hill in his mind. I can see his mind slowly deteriorating as the seconds go by on our grandfather clock. I often glare at the Roman numerals on it and think of the precious years our love glowed. It breaks every piece of my heart to see him in a hospital bed. I thought I have embraced every minute with him. The last few years we have gone through the motions and hate the tears that fall into my lap. I’ve thrown away countless hours giving him the bare necessities and nothing more because of the silence that pierces through the friction of our marriage.
As soon as I close my eyes, I open them again to the sounds of a young woman opening the curtain. It’s no longer dark outside and I remember Sarah rose early during the week but slept in an extra hour on Saturdays. The nurse smiles at me and asks how I slept. She knows I haven’t slept but a moment yet her mundane prattling eases the sting of being away from my wife at least for a few minutes. I wonder when I saw her last. I miss her hand in mine. How her eyes sparkled as she laughed and smiled. Saturday mornings were made just for her and me.
He gawks at that nurse like he used to at me. I gave all of myself to a man that knew how to take but struggled to give. Parts of me cry like a baby. He never raised a hand or cheated on me. More often it felt like he was going through the motions. Parts of me are frozen. I often watch him sleep and watch his favorite television show. He was enthralled with details, crime, investigations, interrogation, lines of questioning, and trying to figure out the culprit. Benjamin Matlock was his companion more than I was at times. Parts of me chuckle saying that. Sometimes I even stare at that young nurse.
I remember this one evening, this evening when my wife, Sarah, was so upset with me because she had asked me to fix the sink in the kitchen, we were always having problems in the old house with it and she asked as soon as I got home please fix the sink but I was tired from work and I just wanted dinner and to watch the television, my favorite show came on right after dinner and I was so fascinated with the characters and the mystery and I was tired and I ended up falling asleep in my chair and when my wife woke me up she was so cross with me because I didn’t do as she asked and I remember I always liked to guess the ending of the show before they solved the mystery.
As much as I love him, too many times it came across in our marriage he was consumed by things that weren’t real. It was almost as if he was engrossed by make believe to avoid the realities going on in our marriage. He neglected confrontation and was absorbed by the simplicities of life (sex, television and food). I was marveled by his ability of not needing anyone. The appearance of being fulfilled by “things” fascinated me. I know there is more going on underneath but was never one to display that.
She sits and waits for me to say something. Anything. I know it. I can’t say a thing. What will she think? I was five when I learned my lesson well. Danny was eight. Daddy beat him until he fell off his chair, beat him until he couldn’t get up off the floor. Daddy said he’d learn his lesson. Daddy lifted the iron from the hearth and burned the sin from Danny’s hand that evening. I begged him to stop. Surely Danny would be good now! Daddy turned with dark, dark eyes and asked if my tongue needed the sin burned from it too. I closed my mouth and stopped my crying. I didn’t need the glowing red iron to brand his rules into my mind. I learned my lesson that day. Keep quiet and never get caught stealing. I never could say a word. How would Sarah look at me, knowing she married a coward. I stole the candy that day.
Danny hugged me tight. The tears were endless. William passed away at 67 years old and have been married for 41 years. Just like any other marriage we had our ups and down.
He was slowly decaying for the last 15 years of them. Our love was like rain – it poured, drizzled and sometimes it was dry. I can’t say he or even myself showed love consistently. I loved our memories but as the years went on both of us were going through the motions. Here I am sobbing creating more rain – the love we should have made. Perhaps it wasn’t just him falling apart in the last 15 years, it was myself. I took him for granted. I walked away with my hands clenched trying to be strong. Everyone stared at me. I needed a breath of fresh air and all I could see is rain. William loved the sound of the rain.
Check out Tara’s blog if you haven’t! This was a fun collaboration.
Deep inside a serious social commentator I chronicle little nothings from something Residing in a seven hundred square foot apartment with spaghetti stains on Saudi Arabia colored carpet Exhausted from walking on egg shells and shrapnel from the one word responses “I planted seeds, give me what I need” She exclaimed with a riddle with her arms raised in the alabaster breeze Shrugging my shoulders in discomfort “You dealt me ripped cards, at Zero Point Boulevard” Squinted eyes, zig zig aggravation, and disgust is a ghastly taste I use to dance in your verses and your loose lipped stanzas Coincidentally there are no replies to my praise Dwell in your manipulation, circus mind and a diary written in mud Frankness stood upright and you ignored it No transitions in your language, just a hint of apricot Senselessness and ramblings squabble on this path Coping is your worst enemy
Storm of Ink 