I was so drunk on you

that I couldn’t see

that you were only

a ship in the harbor

of endless turbulent seas

full of hungry whores

and the rage

of empty bottles discarded.

I hesitated to blot out

the jangling reality

of your hostile façade.

Torn and drowned

in rapture,

I hardly noticed

the deep bloody scars

but I remember

the hammered pain,

the acid tears

burning a hole

in my psyche,

and my frozen heart

and empty soul

as I lost my grip,

piece by piece,

pleading to walk

with you

through savage seas.

Our voyage ended

when you sailed off

without me

but I still craved,

and remembered,

the driving rain

and your vacant eyes

as they drilled craters

into my essence.

She was beautiful, but nobody saw her. In a crowd where a thousand faces cry out for attention with paint and powder and glitter and ink, there is not much space left for skin laid bare, with all the imperfections of one who does not look in the mirror, but at the time, at the faces of those without.

She was beautiful, if any mortal woman could ever be deserving of that name. For she did not glow with an inner light; her flesh, untouched, did not inspire a divine light, was not worthy of Caravaggio's unending adoration, or Renoir's solemn reflection. The crowd preferred the glowing goddesses of Gucci and Givenchy, who floated, serene, from on high, upon billboards. There, they said, you did not have to worry about the dark side of things. Fighting and unhappiness is not a trouble when your sweetheart does not talk to you.

Where she walked, she stepped on the ground. She smiled when she was happy, and frowned when she was not. She was a working girl. Men do not appreciate working girls. They like the housewives, the sweet nothings dressed in pretty skirts, and her sharp tongue did nothing to soften the blow of their bosses' disappointment when they were caught making out in the coat closet. It's her fault for not being kinder, they said, and her duty to be kindest. No one will like her and when she is too old for children she'll wish she'd been prettier, they said.

She was stubborn, though, and their words were so many raindrops on stone to her. She smiled and left, and in the sunshine, when the rain had stopped, she led her nieces out to play with her in the puddles. As they made clumsy circles in the water and laughed and shouted to each other, crying her name, she turned her face up to the sun, she smiled the most radiant smile. The children are happy, she said to herself, they are safe, it is what my sister would have wanted, and somehow, it is enough.

My last tear

Wiped away memory

Of undiluted treachery

As I sit and watch the premier 

Of the forbidden scene

Unfolding before my brown eyes

That would soon later be my demise

As I just turned nineteen

She entered my life

With her baby blue’s

Causing my heart to bruise

I still feel it in the afterlife

The next scene so taboo

I knew it was wrong to crave her

To allow my soul to stir

By then I was twenty-two

Love blossomed in a barren place

It weathered many disasters

She evolved into being my master

This is when I fell from grace

We whisper to each other in the dark

The dark is where we lay

Where we do forbidden things that betray

Things that leave exclamation marks!

The last and final scene before

She takes my soul and runs

As my heart beats like a broken drum

I was just twenty-four

The final scene closes

But the story is incomplete

My knees hit the earth in defeat

For eternity, I lie on a bed of thorned roses.

The way it feels good

makes me uncomfortable

like a knife's edge

being dragged across

my white wrist

with heavy pressure

but not enough to break skin

just enough to make

my hair stand on edge

as I shiver

Smile more, they say

Attitude makes all the difference

My numb mouth stretches into a curve

Authentic as a thumbnail print

Hanging beneath two black dots

In a bright yellow circle

Drawn by a child's blunt stub of crayon

Change your outlook

Choose to be happy, they say

I gather my blessings

Counting them like shiny coins

I barely feel the weight of them

In my slow and clumsy hands

Behind my ribs hangs an old muscle

Exhausted and riddled with holes

It can hold onto nothing

Except the clots of darkness

That cling with minuscule claws

You don't need pills, you need

Sunshine and rainbows, they say

Tell me

Can a sunny attitude

Reknit broken bones?

Maybe if you practice gratitude

Your cancer will go away

I guess I'm just a grump

It must be my fault

If I keep turning my frown upside down

Will I start wanting

To wake up in the morning?

I must have chosen

To live in this glass box

Where no warmth can touch me

Get out more, they used to say

Force yourself to have some fun

Be with your loved ones

But by now

They've stopped calling

Stopped trying

Do they suspect it's terminal

Or contagious?

I perform my own autopsy

Slicing open chilled flesh

Sorting through tangles

Of black ribbons

Of meat and tendon

Trying to find the place

Where sorrow hides

If the sadness could be revived

At least it would mean I cared

That I felt something

Anything

I'm sorry

I didn't mean

To bring you down

that fake persona, that perfect girl facade,

in your heart you know that won’t aid.

heavy heart and plastered smiles,

different people and different styles.

your perfect disguise, those ideal simulations,

won’t help you to get away from rejections.

don’t be a fretter,

you deserve so much better.

despite their promises people upset her,

they forget her,

they distress her,

despite all efforts, yet it’s her.

so she reminds herself to not care about people,

you know they’re evil”

but that’s not enough to avoid an emotional upheaval,

because she’s shattered beyond retrieval.

but still you know, her hobby is making other’s smile,

her hobby is walking that extra mile,

and no one can stop her from doing that

none can save her soul from the combat between her mind and her heart.

no one can stop her from silently killing herself,

no one can save her from her own stubborn self.

but, before you endure pain some more

or you fall for that boy next door

before your decisions you deplore

or crying makes your eyes so sore

before you make any other decision

just remember,

when things go wrong or when you’re in distress

you don’t need to stress

just brace yourself and know you’re special

because no matter what happens, you deserve better!!

"Is this what you imagined

when you thought you would never

grow old?"

trying to balance yourself between highs

weighing helium was never easy

but you never thought the acid

would make cement move in currents

still

that the grass you smoke

only makes you feel light

when you hover a foot from the ground

that a mile from earth is hard

especially when you're still afraid of heights

that your bones feel worn

you're realizing alcohol just strips you away

first skin

then blood

all the wet parts you thought

you could vacuum seal

and stack on shelves

are infected from exposure

"I'm sorry, sweet girl"

because sobriety doesn't balance

it weights on one side like iron

and once you start spinning

you never stop

You deserve better

     I wield my pen

     polish your beauty

     mirror your soul

     coddle it on paper

You deserve better

     I inscribe your scars

     with angel’s breath

     wrap you in loving words

     meant to embrace

You deserve better

     I understand your pain

     bedeck in gauzy words

     draw the butterscotch moon

     to radiate on your face

You deserve better

     My words breathe for you

     to give you respite

     erasing the smudges

     that tarnish your life

You deserve better

     I autograph a tranquil mind

     expose you to a gossamer life

     draw the inner art of you

     let you find your sacred place.

While Earnest did it,

In a Hemingway,

Young Oscar,

Was a Wilde child,

Charles too,

Though the prospect sickens,

Used to write,

And scare the Dickens,

Because they might,

Rattled his cage,

William would,

Shakespeare at his peers,

While Sir Walter,

Would Raleigh the troops,

While Elizabeth and Robert,

Were Browning slowing,

A poet like Robert,

Burns quickly,

Henry Wadsworth,

Was quite the Longfellow,

Or so the girls would say,

But Lewis used to,

Love to Carroll,

Edgar Allan,

Was a Poe boy too,

Still poor Robert suffered,

From writers Bloch.

© BAM

Consume! Obey!

...................Enslaved?

Sit back, Relax, Watch T.V.

Still believe you're not asleep?

Work, Work, Work,

For what you owe..........

While the name you claim

Is not your own.

Flat or globe?

Space or dome?

We should know............

It is our home.

Carbon copied,

...............simply cloned.

Playing God,

............creating drones.

Against the lies,

Take a stand.

Start spreading truth,

To fellow man.

With war and fear so

Out of hand,

We must start to love

…........and understand.