Under her breath she uttered “Life is as beautiful as a forehead kiss”
Joy dances like a ballerina on her spellbinding tongue
She squeezed tea parties with her doll Delilah with her artistry
Quietly adoring her childhood books on the shelf from the tallest to the shortest
She painted love with the ocean with her steady hand on her prized canvas
Gazing at her innocent imagination
Memorized the pattern and pastel colors of her quilt
In a whisper she mumbled “Beauty is inside, not in the eye of the beholder”
Climbing inside her mellow perception
She glided across the beige carpet with an ornament of a smile
A sphere filled with crayons, lite bright, easy bake oven, and ballroom dresses
Cherishing the extraordinary recollection,
Embracing the collage of photographs in her heart
Drops fall to the floor as she glances at a hollow room on Wildfire Lane

She slips on theological rhetoric
She hides behind the voodoo stuck to her silent tongue
Wearing her vixen like dress
She acquired accolades and accommodations from the saliva of the burnt orange wolf
She spoke the language of love in riddles and teenage rhymes
Wearing her Madusa like pearls
She mishandled truth and washed down a liter of half bitten lies
She threw away fortunes and laughed at others misfortunes
Wearing her witchcraft perfume
She roared liked the bitch she was and ignored the crowd who carried her on a Persian rug
Wearing her battle ax over her shoulder

Instantly my judgements were casted. I sat at a table for three. I sat between a pessimistic dreamer and a carefree non stop smoker. I digested painted ideologies and exhaled nostalgia from my vibrating lungs. I scoffed at the handwritten kindhearted gestures. It was as if I had read them on a greeting card as a child. I tried to be engaging but was caught off guard by the long winded interrogation. Sidewinding questions, sarcastic remarks and complex theories were thrown at me like punches. I took a beating like a boxer.

Inside my head all I could hear was the regurgitating water downed clouds of systems.
The formulas, schemes, and strategies plotted by short sighted leaders of this self centered generation.

I nodded my head as the clarity dispersed. I was not treated like an equal. I sat between arrogance and a rattling jaw. I barely touched my grilled California chicken. I only took a few sips of joy. I was tired of the pointing fingers and criticism of my status. I was ridiculed by plastic snakes with their golden ideals in a frame.

Inside my mind all I could do was to assess the situation. I could sense I was a pawn in their chess game. I couldn’t shake off the smirk. I coughed up their sour and misplaced words.

I sneered at their ancient glossy wisdom. I could feel the itchy tickle in my throat. I hacked up a two hour disgusting stomach aching conversation after walking away from the table.

Photographs stir inside
Grasping a birthday wish
Thirst and hunger subside
Frustrations built like a wall

Slowly, yet with sated ease,
Allowing you to enter,
You break the walls of slicing past
And pull me from my centre

Staring at what I should have done
Gravitating to a brand new me
No longer sipping on cravings
Voices stretch out to you

Allowing words to touch my sense
It may have left me long ago…
And in the midst of innocence
I tremble as new wings grow

Sweet fascination spreads
Leaping for your finger tips
Throwing away could haves
October skies open up

I let the rain pour over me
Cleanse my doubts and cure my mind,
Cast out shadows of bruised yesterdays
Tiptoe through days I’m yet to find

Reborn and teary eyed
Appreciation drenched in our song
Fallen and tattered
Still seeing and clenching on to you

My voice cries notes of you and I,
You heal my wounds, I will not die
In storms I hold you, beat your heart
A molten canvas, whispered art.


Braeden – Non Italics

Fiery – Italics

Check out Fiery’s blog if you haven’t! This was really fun and enjoyed collaborating with her!

Stumbling into a fuzzy

and sanitized brainstorm

Watching the fury

leave stains where the mime

inside placed his hands

on the four by four box

Chatter dissolves

Blood clots stricken

Nonstop convulsions

A falling stigma is spread

like dust on the tricks

of my broken down mind

Fears wallow

Doubt hangs like tree branches

in a distraught hurricane

Analytics in bold

Emotions shredded

Wiping away the dirt from

my cynical and distant eyes

Leaving the mime inside

cry like a new born baby

Constantly misunderstood

A misguided circus fumbling

through the fog

A part of me is the feather

of a soaring bird

Never falling to the ground

without direction

Grasping the words of the prayer

Sent to God from a letter

Please save the mime


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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


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I’m disappointed in myself as usual

I’m disappointed to reach for something I can not feel

I’m disappointed with my voice of truth

I’m disappointed in my ignorant silence

I’m disappointed with my points of view

I’m disappointed with my deceptive mind

I’m disappointed in the fool I can’t see

I’m disappointed that I couldn’t feel the needles puncture my skin

I use to languish in the polygon of my weeping mind

I thirst for the fragments of my anguish to mold my center

I use to sulk inside myself and drink the wine of selfishness

I sunk my teeth into the dejection

I use to dwell in the camouflage and sink in my words

I swam in the black river under the oppression

I use to neglect faith and drown in the empty tear ducts

I fell into the depths of silence

I use to grieve in the awaken sadness and never sleep

I felt the last breath deceive me

I use to shed my dead skin in the morning to erase the gloomy nights

I carried a chain of misery

I use to gasp at the hollowness and gazed at the autograph

I refused to stare at the nemesis

I saw the signature and found it revolting

A transformation within shouted

If I could run away

I’d join a flying circus

Chat with the lions

Chant with the crowd

Joke with the clowns

Dance with the acrobats

Crawl with the trapeze artists

Hide with the magician

Wrestle with the roar of the tiger

Walk with the Bear

Fall in love with the sideshow

Sit between the caramel apples

and the cotton candy

If I could run away

It wouldn’t solve any of my problems


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Staring into the

desolate snow globe

watching my brittle

tears howl from the chair

Craving novacane for

my anorexic heart

Gravitating to the infection

that is soaking to

my sensitive past

Refusing to retrace

my footsteps of

Chestnut street

Tangled ghosts weave

through out my

strewed mind

Only to see a glimpse

of a debilitating disease

Concentrating on the

disappearing inner tyke

Becoming a nomad within

Placing my hands in my

ragged and faded jeans

trying to capture the light

of playing hopscotch

No matter how many times

I seek the clarity and purity

of my jagged youth

Chestnut Street is just a sign

on a ten foot pole

*Laurel has asked me to use this street name for the Challenge.

Exchanging blows

Trouncing the integrity

Parading with clout

Testifying with a punch

Ruthless and cold

Clobbering with animosity

Losing perspective

Gaining self worth

Sitting on a Island

without a blanket of protection

Circling apathy

with loneliness on a death bed

Persecuting myself

Questioning my beliefs

Constantly defending my being

Slowly giving up to society’s views