I’ve seen the icicles hang in the burning silhouette I’ve been reminded of the unspoken truth caressing my frozen ghosts I’ve crawled between the spider like despair and mesmerizing sunset
Let the explanations seep and bellow Let the justifications trickle down my face Let the interpretations subside in the dusk Let the denial drip down my pale cheek I plead with my contradictions
I’ve tugged on my restlessness and uneven faith I’ve been surrounded by strangers with mind numbing tension I’ve sought out simplicity but eroded into complexity
Let the explanations seep and bellow Let the justifications trickle down my face Let the interpretations subside in the dusk Let the denial drip down my pale cheek I plead with my contradictions
I’ve drifted away from the sympathy and magnetized to the obscurity I’ve stolen hidden glances in my sleep and dream of the awakening I’ve ran from fears wrestling in the dark and disappear in the light
Let the explanations seep and bellow Let the justifications trickle down my face Let the interpretations subside in the dusk Let the denial drip down my pale cheek I plead with my contradictions
Once upon a blistering silhouette I wiped away my tears with feathers from the bitterness, I slept with misery and the faults I refused to see, the sun disappeared and my heart is vacant, the veil is ragged and torn, the anguish is dispersed and I wallow in the fields of exhaustion, guided by thorns and a cloud of animosity without a compass, I use to embrace the darkness, I bellow from the exotic tremors, hoping to discover the light I have forgotten, I have gripping dreams and an isolated peace I misplaced
Between shadows and memory, one woman’s diary elucidates relationships come and gone, those who helped shape who she is from the inside out. Turning the rain into something beautiful, the opening petals of a rose now blooming.
Veteran poet Braeden Michaels crafts his seventh collection of poetry into a mold of vision. Like pages from a twisted fairy tale, he narrates using his unique poetic style and perspective, first dissecting emotion before reconstructing and reimagining each one.
I’m just a silhouette situated on a cracked street corner gazing into the crevices of the cement. I’m a wanderer seeking warmth from a gentle hand. I spend too much time looking inward and only see engraved scars. I’m just a singed shadow that leaves whispers and tears for an empty sky. I find myself buried in my beloved diary. I cling to it as I cry myself to sleep as I pray to a God that is made up of sandpaper beliefs and songlike scripture.
I tend to sleep with trauma with invisible gauze and bloodshot dreams. I rationalize the hallucinations due to the measurable weight on my shoulders. I live in a household filled with indifference, butterflies circling fears, and ghosts having sarcastic conversations with each other. I carry a laugh from an ancient carnival. My mother named me after two distinguished poets. The name Sylvia Poe Chandler feels supernatural on the birth certificate. My personality is upside down and is unseeable. I scoff at normalities and jokes about what can not be changed. I loathe logic defended by agendas that are written by parasites. I am drawn to the stars have a tint of green because the moon is jealous. I am fond of the night because I can see my skeletons sipping on ignorance in the closet.
I never once believed in the elegance and fragility of love. I believe in monsters, dark side of humanity, warlords, and anguish that swallows you whole. I don’t believe in the hands of compassion nor forgiveness. I can’t believe in concepts I’ve never felt. I never once believed in angels, optimism with a silver lining, and words spoken by the rich. I believe in individuality not the mummy walking mass. I never believed in rhetoric from men wearing blue suits. I do believe someone below is smirking at my trials and tribulations. I can’t believe in fairy tales but I believe in an epilogue with a waterfall.
She calls me an infant and he calls me ungraspable. I’m a mute but the list of endless adjectives are added to the scroll. I am seeking love and affection from heathens wearing sin like a trench coat. I’m full of spite but spit out caffeinated speeches. I walk with a phantom knowing I’m contaminated. Self worth is buried in the forest of my backyard. As I walk through the woodlands I can feel the mosquitoes surrounding my significance. The closer I become my eyes swell with grief.
I am a cloud hiding behind the sun seeking a ray of hope. I have a backbone that you can’t see. I am a star gazer with drops of melancholy in my hands. I have been destroyed by my foul mouthed pro creators and poisonous ex lovers. My fate is torn but my destiny sees a rainbow from a distance.
I’m jittery but calm in my logic. I parade these streets with echoes and slippery sentiments. I feel misplaced, misguided, and my feet continue to fumble. I struggle with intimacy and the white lies I swallow. I walk with expectations that I can’t see and standards that I can’t comprehend. I ignore my swirling instincts and lackadaisical intuition. I camouflage my fears with sophomoric humor and childish innuendos. I cough up resentment on a daily basis.
I wear my pride like a tattoo with animosity sewn to my arms. I am slightly dysfunctional and walk with a scorched tongue. I have an appetite to be understood than loved. Love is just a mirror that shatters over and over. Affection is just an object that we all hunger. I wiped away the frustration from my eyes and see myself residing in the winter’s scream. Please don’t hold me, just reach in to breathe in my cold air.
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
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”
I coughed up a tangled fairy tale A translucent liquid composed of quicksand and psychedelic castles in the air Dismay biting a breeze of reverberation Lust was an unforgivable bottle of poison Trapped between sincerity and admiration
For you and the wind that wraps me up in clouds of dust, I surrender For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender
Forgive me, if I need too much Forgive me, if I desire too much
Caught up in the endearing glances Unspoken words, intoxicating voice Inviting and lost in a whirlwind Confusing thoughts, mixed signals Unhinged cravings, lava sensation
For you and the wind that wraps me up in clouds of dust, I surrender For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender
Forgive me, if I need too much Forgive me, if I desire too much
A wicked charm alluring Sweat pouring, rhythmic tongue “Magic not seeing what was tragic” Insatiable endless night dancing Clawing and reaching for tenderness
For you and the wind that wraps me up in clouds of dust, I surrender For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender
Forgive me, if I need too much Forgive me, if I desire too much
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
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
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
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
Storm of Ink 