Growth is powerful. Often times you can’t see how much you have grown until you look back at who you were or what you have decided to let go. I have been writing for decades and have kept it a secret. Why? The reasons why I write are endless. It’s therapeutic, mentally stimulating, challenging, a place where I can voice my opinions, and today I believe others can find others or themselves in my poetry.
It can be a place of self discovery and reflection.

Generally speaking, the perspective of a poet by society is someone who is broken, emotionally sensitive, and their voice is better articulated through words on paper than being spoken. To clarify this, written words are better used to express themselves emotionally. I can relate to this part. I am an emotional person and often times I cry because I have no words at times. Today I write with more of bigger purpose. I want to show the world that you people are not broken, they are just misunderstood. They are not surrounded by the right people.

At the end of my first marriage, I took it upon myself to attend therapy. I knew there were some things about me I needed to fix. I am a work in progress, in fact we all are a work in progress and under construction. Two of the things in my marriage that I needed to work on was speaking up for myself and taking control of certain aspects of my life. I was married to a woman who was overbearing, domineering and controlling. She was also an alcoholic. On my end, I wasn’t mature enough to walk away and sought out attention in the wrong way ways. I hid my writing at this time. Therapy gave me guidance and direction.

One of the things that I learned in therapy is that my growth was limited due to my surroundings. My father is quite judgmental and critical. Once I remarried and moved away, my confidence in myself flourished. I saw that I needed to move away. I will never tell my father that because I know that would hurt his feelings. I appreciate all that he is given me and the love that he knows how to give. He doesn’t just seem to care how to present sensitive topics, and how you present them often times is more important than what you say. As I get older, I’m trying to be aware of how I present subjects as well. There is a time to be straight forward, direct and there is a time to communicate with compassion.

In the end, I have grown to try to see the world and life through others eyes. I am not dead set on being right and if I am wrong, I will own up to it. I write poetry from the clouds with eagle eyes and try to embrace humanity. I see humanity without labels. There is a long list of individuals who want the world to change and I stand in a small line where I want to change the world. Everything is perspective and perspective is everything.


My books are available here .

Forget me not, my sweet fears
I found untouchable verses within my discomfort
I found veracity within the crevices of the dark
I found my reflection staring into my tattoo of courage
I found emptiness deeper than this bottle

And my tears dry up and it’s time to stand up
And my anxiety carries a heart beat
And my passion bleeds forever more
And my endless ink soars like a blackbird

“Take my hand, I can no longer do this alone.
I can admit, I can no longer do this on my own”

Forget me not, my sweet fears
I found my imagination spinning out of control
I found my recklessness ripping me at the seams
I found my identity buried in a grave with a bouquet of havoc on top
I found my revelations reading scripture

And my tears dry up and it’s time to stand up
And my anxiety carries a heart beat
And my passion bleeds forever more
And my endless ink soars like a blackbird

“Take my hand, I can no longer keep hurting myself,
I can admit, something inside needs some help”


My books are available here.

Electric Calm (Johnson Stills)

I’ve been walking through an electric calm with a crucifix woven into my chest. I can barely breathe but can feel tranquility gripping to my veins. I can exhale all my errors while my shadows can caress my fears. I’m gasping for my curse to vanish. I’m suffering with a small taste of compassion.

I can hear the angels crooning in my equilibrium. “I’m done am crawling, falling, and stalling because I’m ready to run. I have a light that’s more brilliant than the sun. I am done trying, dying, and crying from the destruction of my past. I am a born again miracle, white glaring spherical, with clarity sparkling in my photographs.”

I’ve been stumbling through an electric calm with vibrations whispering on my tongue. I can barely speak but feel drops of grief sliding down my throat. I can inhale all the suffering while my spine carries my turmoil. I’m letting go of the affliction. I’m dreaming for you to forgive me.

I can hear the monsters growling in my blizzard of indecisions. “I’m digging you a grave, your hesitancy and damnation will become your slaves. I’m the chain on your lilac bones, watching your heart turn into stone. I will watch you choke and convulse with a grin,
I will be your unblemished sin. You will continue to swallow your glass of emptiness and feel reckless.”


My books are available here.

Tomorrow’s Leaves, Yesterday’s Shadows

Tomorrow’s leaves,
fluttering in the October wind
serenading my Sunday doubt
chasing my valiant harmony
Yesterday’s shadows,
spoke to my brittle heartache
growled at my brainwashed reflection
crawled inside my grey river
my pride is louder than my endless storms
Tomorrow’s leaves,
floating in my sweetest passions
drifting within my crooning veins
dancing in sugarcoated air
Yesterday’s shadows,
whispered and kissed me goodbye
disappeared within my iron dignity
disintegrated within my thunder
my pride is louder than my endless storms


My books are available here.

Coming Soon!

Release Date: 3/5/2024

Once Upon A Rain, She Bloomed

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.


Pre order: Once Upon A Rain, She Bloomed

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Michaels doesn’t fail to deliver in The Raven’s Poison. From start to finish I was taking around the horn on an emotional rollercoaster and was left in awe of his words. Can’t wait to get the next book!”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Braeden knows how to tap into the human emotion and the sometimes dark nature of our innate characteristics. This is a book that is sure to grab you by the throat from the very first piece until the very last. You will be gasping and grasping for more until the very end.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I haven’t read a poetry book so full of great poetry in years. Everyone should pick this collection up.”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I highly recommend this well written book. His writing is full of great imagery and it draws you in leaving you mesmerized.”


My books are available here.

Never Ending Ink on Crooked Scream Road

Like porcelain skin wrapped in gauze
Birthday tattoo displayed on her wrist
Daydreams slip out on from her weeping lips
Shadows blister, the monologue drowns
Clasping on to “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” in her pliable hand

And the lions on the wallpaper say her name in a chant
And the ceiling is her midnight and decorated
sky
And the hallway reeks of discretion and tongue tied riddles
And the ink she pours out never runs dry

Give me an invincible fire to stand within the pain
Give me the light to crawl in the dusk

An ounce of slump and stagnation whisper
Melancholy hanging over her head like a rain cloud
Glaring into a closet of aberrations
Atmosphere trembles, the letters trickle sanguine
Twitching in the discolored oblivion

And the memories flood on to the pillow from her eyes
And the moonlight that shines through her window growls
And the conversations are still heard in these four walls
And the ink she pours out never runs dry

Give me an invincible fire to stand within the pain
Give me the light to crawl in the dusk


My books are available here.

She slumbers in jitters and uncertainty

She slumbers in quietness and nervousness

She slumbers in angst and needles

She slumbers in frozen butterflies

She slumbers in a catatonic atmosphere

And the all knowing and powerful listens

She slumbers in misguided beliefs

She slumbers in thin confidence

She slumbers in pale rose petals

She slumbers in the down pouring dismay

She slumbers in cold feet and horror

And the all knowing and powerful listens

She slumbers in cynical exasperation

She slumbers in headaches and irritations

She slumbers in deadweight

She slumbers in mishaps and misfortune

She slumbers in blame and agitation

And the all knowing and powerful guides


Check out my books!

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


My books are available here.

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


My books are available here.

I’ve been chasing a sky of blurry lines
I’ve been chasing constellations with my eyes closed
I’ve been chasing misplaced trust with heartfelt lies
I’ve been chasing danger with silent explosives
I’ve been chasing peace with a vicious expression
I’ve been chasing filled pages in an empty book

If these decorated walls could shout
crumbled words would cut my open arms
If these rooms could plead guilty
my disease would cry indifference
And my inflicted patterns dwell on Silence Boulevard

On my knees with my hands clenched together
Reciting scripture and broken prayers
Begging “Take my pain away, tired of all the shadows of yesterday”

I’ve been chasing delusions with a vacant jar of pills
I’ve been chasing wisdom with limited experiences
I’ve been chasing a river of echoes with a pierced eardrum
I’ve been chasing a fantasy with numb fingertips
I’ve been chasing daylight on a dim path

If these decorated walls could shout
crumbled words would cut my open arms
If these rooms could plead guilty
my disease would cry indifference
And my inflicted patterns dwell on Silence Boulevard

On my knees with my hands clenched together
Reciting scripture and broken prayers
Begging “Take my pain away, tired of all the shadows of yesterday”

I’ve been chasing riddles with a cracked compass
I’ve been chasing affection with a crippled identity
I’ve been chasing sentiments with a star dripping resentment
I’ve been chasing sweetness with a bitter tongue
I’ve been chasing suspicion with an arrow
in my hand
I’ve been chasing time with drops of heartache

If these decorated walls could shout
crumbled words would cut my open arms
If these rooms could plead guilty
my disease would cry indifference
And my inflicted patterns dwell on Silence Boulevard

On my knees with my hands clenched together
Reciting scripture and broken prayers
Begging “Take my pain away, tired of all the shadows of yesterday”

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


Check out my books!

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

Destroyed trust smeared on shingles

Ruins spread out over the dismantled carpet

Locked up gates surrounding decrepit doors

Components of ancient clocks in disgust

Splinters in necks of apathetic voices

Arms folding like a hand of cards

Negligence lingers in the crisp air

Carelessness hobbling on a narrow path

Monotony standing tall and shrewd

Incuriosity bounces like a dodgeball

Separation is coughed up like phlegm

Alienation is the divine appetite

Four mile road of still emptiness

Unfortunately many reside in a glance of reality

I’ve cried

a thousand tears

I’ve walked

a million miles

I’ve bled

mountains of blood

I’ve feared

the darkest tale

I’ve broken

shining hearts

I’ve stolen

innocent kisses

I’ve borrowed

pockets of time

I’ve craved

unconditional love

I’ve needed

shadows of desire

I’ve ached

for the endangered light

I’ve wanted

someone to hear me

I felt his presence

at Hallelujah Crossing

I was born to feel

I was born to absorb my emotions a bit different

I want to see the world through others eyes

I was born to be a poet

I was born to be a writer

I want to be in touch with my tears

I want to know where they came from

I want to know where your scars came from

I want to understand you

I was born to be something I didn’t know existed

I was born to love you

I was born to share something that is suppose to bring us together

I was born to hold you

I was born so we could be together

I was born to love you until the end of time