Psychobabble is drooling
Filth sliding off your tongue
To a world that doesn’t want you
Chaotic rambles spill
Flourishing idiotic sentences
To only a southern cult following
Despised and detested
The walking anti Christ
An asylum meant for your family
Raising children to scream
Not speaking with an ounce of intelligence
Your mother should have used a condom
So the world didn’t have to put up with
Your nonsense and illogical thoughts
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I am used
to color a fire truck
I am used
to color a stop sign
I am used
to color a red light
I am used
to color flames
I am used
to color Santa’s Claus’s outfit
I am used
to color a red ribbon
I am used
to color lipstick
I love the red crayon
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Strutting contradiction
spewing selfishness
Child like temper tantrums
dilute your balloon ego
Even the scarecrows
don’t want you
A strolling blood clot
aimless direction
A rambling anthrax
Mindless and foolish
Even the soulless
don’t want you
A marching eye sore
Belligerent and foul
A corrupted delinquent
Hop scotching bitch
Even the demons from hell
don’t want you
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I wrote a love letter
from First Street
with a black
ballpoint pen
I wrote it from the
depths of my cursed
frightened heart
I wrote it from a
place that I did not
know existed
I can remember
clearly and
distinctively
First Street was
quite riveting
The love letter I
sent from First Street
created a magical
mind blowing moment
The first kiss
Never do I rest
Some are addicted
Always being used
Some abuse me
Rarely I am shut off
Some break me
I am full of so much
Some ruin lives
I can be a problem
Some people die
My purpose grew
I’m often used
at the worst times
I have a price tag
Unlike a human
Please use me
appropriately
I wrote a letter to emptiness but lost the address. I sought out the curves of my stars. I ran toward apathy but saw scattered dreams in a coffin. I was told to be practical. I walked through a smoke screen and ignored my instincts. I saw a future of formality’s as passion sat in a cage. I wrote another letter to emptiness and it was returned to sender. A bold red stamp was on the bottom of the letter. Find yourself.
Requesting peace
Uneasy separation
Raising the white flag
Just wanting to be alone
Clearly misunderstood
No need for drama
Let me sulk from your daggers
and just leave me alone
For you couldn’t see me
You take no responsibility
Hello All,
Today I have reached a milestone of acquiring a 1000 followers. I have stumbled across many great people, aspiring writers, and have enjoyed this journey.
I also want to thank those who have purchased my books. Thank you for all the support.
– Braeden Michaels
Eighteen is the magic number
Defines maturity and responsibility
Perhaps it’s just a digit
6570 days of being alive
But don’t know what you are living for
Answers and claims are unreachable
Eighteen is a number of legality
But not a number of wisdom
Talk to someone who has lived more days
Life isn’t about digits and numbers
It’s about the choices we make
Every choice from the 6570 day is critical
You just don’t know it yet ….
Oh Poet the emperor
Shall I dive into your
18th century plagiarized manuscript?
It’s not as hidden as you
believe as educated as you are
I can read you like the pamphlet
Yes pamphlet – the size of
your sweet vocabulary
Diluted words of nothingness
Playing with Drama
Because you are the Queen
Not the King of Denmark
Despite the riddle you keep
reciting your manhood and strength
Keep taking a step further
with your playbook
I will rip apart and expose you
for who you really are
Lonely just the like rest
Minutiae among the minds
Spastic clutter
Opening up a can of debris
Mixed up predicaments
A compilation of distress
Walking into turmoil
Gazing at a eyesore
A mayhem of selfishness
Mishmash of ideals
Seeking light in the wreckage
Tripping on hindrances
Overlooking headaches
Disoriented from the gospel
Ignoring the theorems
Forever searching the self
Exasperated point of view
Tearing and ripping me in half
Accepting my tired faults
Ruining what was too good to be true
Reality digging in my insides
Watching my mind crash
into a broken down train station
As the clock barely moves
I stare into the wrecking machine
Seeing a glimpse of my skewed
perception shine bright
in my dumb blank eyes
Realizing my mind needs to be
examined and reprogrammed
Refusing to stay on this damn street
I’m a wounded prize,
Laced up in bitterness.
I’m a lethal injection,
Trapped in a empty bottle.
I’m a bullet from a war,
Only shot through my veins.
I’m a discarded black heart
Only seen in the shadows.
I’m the venom from the rattlesnake
Only to swallow with salt.
I’m a chill on my own spine
Only to stop from being numb.
Guzzling down courage
like a bottle of champagne
Staring at the sign
of gumption lane
Sucking on the icicles
of frozen truth
Ignoring the taste of
bitter rejection
Stuck in a vicious cycle
seeing the catatonic word
Toxicity lingers
on the door step of
Locust Manor
Hands in loose pockets
revealing the key
to enter a fifth dimension
I can’t sleep
without the scent of your pillow
Toss and turn
I can’t sleep
without you beside me
Toss and turn
I can’t sleep
without your warm embrace
Toss and turn
I can’t sleep
without a kiss good night
Toss and turn
I can’t sleep
without saying I love you
Toss and turn
****
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Choking on self served dirt
Prancing in your delicate castle
Bantering with the jester
High regards as a princess
Pointing at the fabric
stonewashed character
Keep sipping on your ideals
Seeking hidden agendas
Removing the plastic
Only glancing not seeing
Interpretations of nothing
Creating a plate of something
Keeping sipping the cup of dirt
Between the dead air
and the white noise
Insomnia has filled the
room like a stench
Clinging to the anniversary
and illuminating memories
Refusing to let them
go from my palm and from
my pumping heart
that is secluded in
a storm above a small
wild island
Inside my daughters eyes
streams of sadness forever
stare into grey
Park Place is just a street
Home was always with him
Waking up alone
surviving each day
with a ray of hope
I’m beautiful
I have so much to offer
I know where my heart lives
Priceless expression
In disbelief
Created the largest distance
A pivotal moment
Wishing it could be held still
Clueless to what motivates me
Not grasping the grand picture
Spoken like a fraud
Forgive me if I speak the colors of truth
Forgive me if I stare into the painted sunset
Forgive me if I stand to close to the walls
Forgive me if I walk alone on the trails
Forgive me if I view myself as a whirlwind
Forgive me if I ramble in my head
Forgive me if I notice you don’t care
Forgive me if I see nothing in my future
Forgive me if I bottle up what you can’t see
Forgive me if I vent my frustrations to myself
Forgive me if I tell myself it will all be ok
Forgive me if I just keep to myself
Forgive me if I die and no one is at my funeral
Should I care enough
to acknowledge your existence
Do I care enough
to reply back to your nonsense
Should I care enough
to slap that grin off your devious face
Do I care enough
to raise my palm toward an empty man
Should I care enough
to not leave you penniless
Do I care enough
to take you to court
Should I care enough
to walk away from you
Do I care enough
about myself to make a decision
Should I care enough
about myself to leave you
*Marie had asked me to use this title for a poem.
****
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