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There’s a blue ball in the gutter
The willows weep amidst the oaks
Drunk street sweepers spreading trash in the air
Abandoned porch swings on hundred year old houses
Blackstrap molasses dripping from that window seal

The Post office is flooded with lost letters of love
The PTA is full of divorced housewives giving the acronym new meaning
The cathedral on 2nd street has been empty
for a decade
The minister can only preach on Sunday’s playing poker sipping on whiskey

Faded hopscotch in rundown school yards
Old man Beetle dressed to the nines for a walk to the donut shop
Laughing girls in pigtails tossing a coin in the fountain
That woman there sneaking a smoke behind the doctors office
What is that strange smell in the air

The asphalt has pot holes screaming murder
Stop signs blushing like lovers on the beach
57’ Chevy is chasing the rabid dog around the square
Rhinestone glasses waitress wins lottery goes broke in sixty seconds
And the pond on Summersby Lane has fish crooning Dean Martin

A police chase down Main st
Same story same time last week
Dirty little secrets of hit it and quit it
Who’s that the preachers wife driving on the wrong side of the street
It’s poison from the power plant on the edge of town

The crab apple tree has leaked mystique
On the bottom of Lake Plateau lives six dead men
And Butchers Field has dancing scarecrows
And the Barber Shop on 3rd Street has chatter that never ends

Peculiar feeling here
The sign at the homeless shelter has been blinking less for years
That house on the corner a double murder suicide
Swept under the rug in the police chiefs house
Don’t mind me I’m just the messenger

Crime rates doubled downtown
Not a dime or a fade penny on the streets
Too many ex lovers chugging medicine at Stella’s Bar
Not enough landscapes or rivers on this side of town
No one here sits on a porch gazing at the stars
Too many staring at the end of a bottle

Braeden – Italics

Stella – Non Italics

This was a fun collaboration with Stella! Check out her blog if you haven’t!

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Hello All,

I am sure many have noticed that I have not been on here in a while. You can find me on instagram.

I have not posted any new material due to some soul searching and over time you will see my blog change. I am currently in transition and reinventing myself as a writer.

I appreciate all of your support.

Thank you,

Braeden

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And how sweet a story it is
When you hear Charley Parker
tell it,
Either on records or at sessions,
Or at offical bits in clubs,
Shots in the arm for the wallet,
Gleefully he Whistled the
perfect
horn
Anyhow, made no difference.

Charley Parker, forgive me–
Forgive me for not answering your eyes–
For not having made in indication
Of that which you can devise–
Charley Parker, pray for me–
Pray for me and everybody
In the Nirvanas of your brain
Where you hide, indulgent and huge,
No longer Charley Parker
But the secret unsayable name
That carries with it merit
Not to be measured from here
To up, down, east, or west–
–Charley Parker, lay the bane,
off me, and every body

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I am only home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I moved away for a job and it’s been a journey since then. When I met my family my brother pointed something out that made him teary eyed. There were names of deceased family members on the tables. I saw my aunts name, my mothers, grandfathers, grandmothers, and my cousin. I looked around the room as tears fell from my eyes. My brother saw me and hugged me. Although we are very different in many aspects we are the same. We moved over to the corner of the room and told me how our mom would be so proud of me. In his own words he actually expressed how much he loved me and missed me. This is something he would do when he was drunk. He didn’t have an ounce of alcohol in him. Naturally I cried as he spoke. I saw my brother in a different light. A part of me moved away for a job and part of me moved away from my family. In my eyes, growing up and still today I feel misunderstood. I want to unravel all the feelings we all feel in my writing. I want to write from different perspectives. I told my brother the other day I have three published books. In my head I spend my time writing wanting to leave something behind, my legacy. Perhaps on the blog this is where I am understood. But my brother for once understood me. He could see parts of me that are broken. He could see why I write from other perspectives. It’s easier for me to write from other points of view because I have some pieces I don’t want to look at. He could clearly see I just didn’t move away for a job.

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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

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A classic vantage

Perceptions gauzed in antiques

Edges of photographs crinkle

Rustic but euphoric

Art history in sight

Words written from thick blood

Deep appreciation of jazz

Grasping the top notch pen

Refined and elegant

Dressed in sophistication

Adoring her exquisite tongue

Artistic in the hurricane soul

Tasting the vintage ink

Check out my new book!

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I wallow in the paraphrases and the ick of December. Wintery trees remind me of childhood and what use to be. Today the misery and solitude linger in the brisk air. I no longer grasp and hold onto affection. I took a walk and could see my reflection in the mangled trees. Branches scattered like my frozen thoughts. I stand still as depression settles deeper. No one wants to stand from my perspective. I despise the winter and hollow chill. No one cares. I use to crave to feel. I stare into the paragraphs and emptiness flows. No one cares. I don’t ask why I am alive. I ask when will you take me out of my misery?

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Eyeballing the coordinates

Interpreting and measuring the angles

Shoveled efforts plead cases

in the clay and dim ground

Removed discussions and grief

Presenting facts and disregarding

lethal gut wrenching emotion

Pulling left to be right

Pushing right to be wrong

Winning is irrelevant and misguided

Grazing thoughts of compassion

Understanding points of view

Too much gray between black and white

Indecisiveness stands still

One sided lie

Two sided truths

Equal broken indifferences and shadows

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I’ve offered you a ship and you offer me a canoe

I’ve offered you a dozen roses and you offer me a dandelion

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you a plate of everything and you offer me a morsel

I’ve offered you a road and you offer me a unpaved narrow path

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you a tree of gold and you offer me a stained branch

I’ve offered you a notebook and you offer me a page

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you barrel of ink and you offer me a ballpoint pen

When I’m gone my written words will say it all

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Foolish and dumb I crumble

Stuck in a wrecking atmosphere

Drifting out of consciousness

Wishes fall beneath my feet

I can’t move

A jolt of discomfort shatters within

Starring at discolored fragments

Crying romance bellows forgiveness

Dropping rights and wrongs

I can’t move

Dying to be understood in tired eyes

All I absorb are tears and rain

wearing a chain of animosity

through a howling river

I can’t move anymore

Check out my books!

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Like a light kite in the sky

waving at the landscapes

Adoring God’s creations

from the ground to the

feathers and trees

Flying like a hummingbird

raptured in his point of view

Watching statues and waters

from an eagles eye

Tranquility prances in the

honeysuckle breeze

Harmony is held in

Cupid’s hands

All in all beauty surrounds

us like a circle

We just have a choice

to see it

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I’m alone and sleeping in the cavern

I’m alone and sleeping in the gloom

And never do I cry

I’m alone and sleeping in the dusk

I’m alone and sleeping in the morning

And never do I bleed

I’m alone and sleeping in the twilight

I’m alone and sleeping in my coffin

And never do I pray

I’m alone and sleeping in the screams

I’m alone and sleeping in the silence

And never do I laugh

I’m alone and sleeping in the scars

I’m alone and sleeping in the obscurity

And never do I change

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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

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She fell in love

with his top hat and vaudeville looks

She fell in love

with his chocolate wit and ripped edge tone

She fell in love

with his Broadway voice and commanding demeanor

She fell in love

with his gloss and glitz of his sword

She fell in love with

his galant worth and the backbone of his confidence

She fell in love

with his chivalry and gentle heart

She fell in love

with his deep river and his stark raving armor

She fell in love

with his lyrics and got lost in the melody

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Chopped up dialogue

Interpretations of saturation

Absorbed by lost brain waves

Unfolding by a misunderstanding

Swallowing mashed up berries

Filling heartache with sand

Surrounding it with ten pound cement

Reminiscing the foolishness

Blaming the scavengers

Walking down Cheap Wine Avenue

like a stray dog in an empty storm

Plagued with expectations

Relentlessly undressing the wounds

Baring the char broiled soul

Washing the spots of hands

Praying to turn to the left

to see the state of peace lane