i've watched you die one thousand times
in one hundred different ways

still, i can't decide which is worse
what my mind creates at night,
or, what we found that day

this reoccurring theme of mine,
all that i've catastrophized,
comes out at night to play

sometimes, my mind
makes me watch you die -

a masochistic gift for me

sometimes, it's that i know you'll die
and i can't warn of what i see

once i dreamt you faked your death
to prove our lack of care
you didn't even tell your best friend, Steve
he was just as confused and unaware
"i knew it! you guys don't love me"
you screamed, as i stood there

my mind still fights the guilt i have
but it rears its ugly head

i woke up on my 25th birthday
crying, from the torments of my bed

the dreams that make me pause the most
are where you live
but you're not you

you're angry, and hurt, and you're like a child
and you won't calm down to speak to me
and i don't know what to do

but i know why i have that dream
it's my soul's decline of guilt

because if that's what we saved you for
our lives couldn't have been rebuilt

my mind wanders to that night
staring down the stairs

it's my mind and it pleads with me:
it's better we weren't there

Shrunken
Sentences into digital para
meters.
Glance at a screen forever
Stolen
Sightless birds criss-crossing
And swiping food away.
Hands full with
Thoughts
Emptied and tidied ferociously
They
Discovered.
Jury retired defendant
Launches new attack pattern
Society
Crumbles.
Again.

Familiar was the squawk of dawn's happy choir.    
A cheerfulness so potently dire.    
When daily suffering is inescapable    
Anguish does not discriminate or label.    
A man's belly, barren of bread, aches in pain.
An ache the same,
As the obsession to be desired by the vain.    
To the blacksmith of thought, we are the tool.    
The mastery of thought is the saving rule.

Ye olde Yo-***, advises get thee to a nunnery of trees, leaves of sunlight scorched sunrises and sunsets to clear the cobwebs and recall more fully the good stuff,  like in Oregun,

allow it to resonant via ****** shots of temporal, but seasonal natural harmony, a more regulat visitor of the upcoming comes of good weather and the life by the water, on a tiny islansd, long lazy days, and a lessening of the
mental haze-ing

punctuating life with long walks and teardrops of tears, poetry suggestives, will be dropping from icy white cumulus every day clouds, moving to uncover the elaborate and running trills of colutara words lurking within, no more the blaring horns of trafficked sounds of First Ave., trucks fighting to de-liver-er the urgencies of consumption (a most excellent disease) and the potpourri symphony of marching bands blaring of ambulances, fire trucks, and the EXTRAordinary impatience of horn blaring taxis up and down York Ave., dropping off patients 24-7 at a laundry list of  "specialized" Hospitals with "views of the river in every room"

I miss the quietude noises of summer breezes tickling minds, trees frothing a
cappucino sun heated breeze to stir the blush and rush of words forming faster than the mind can absorb;

alas, alas, this same mind can never fully squeeze out the sins of memories of winter's travails and yet, the mere suggestion of my old friends embracing me, sun, wind, green landscapes, sea and land animals coming to greet the human interlopers makes me all stirred up, like watching white milk in black coffee spread its cooling affection and lightening the black; aerate and mixing the perptual continuum of my ever slowly chilling bloodstream streaming to mind
                               and I sigh, for many reasons...but in my heart, I am, and remain, forever a summer man...
aerate and mix and I sigh, for many reasons...

Absent brain surgery, the mind wanders following the sun's trajectory, wither?

These are the HANDS OF TIME,
being in a CERTAIN ERA, now
that would be SO DIVINE,
LIVING in the TIMES PAST,
would be JUST FINE!!

RELIVING a PAST DREAM,
that would only BE MINE,
OLD PAST MEMORIES that
are STORED DEEP in the
BACK of my MIND!!

In order to Visit them,
I SIMPLY TRAVEL THROUGH
IMAGINATIONS and
JUST UNWIND!!

My OLD, FONDEST MEMORIES that
have GONE FAR AWAY,
I shall never FORGET THEM,
and still think about them
THIS VERY DAY, but

The HAPPINESS they had,
has since then, GONE ASTRAY,
I SHALL NEVER, EVER
FORGET THEM, because
THOSE WERE THE DAYS,
They were THE BEST THAT
I HAVE EVER HAD, but
Things are DIFFERENT NOW, which
MAKES LIFE SEEM SO SAD!!

If I could only turn back,
the HANDS OF TIME,
It would be so nice,
TO REVISIT and
TO REMINISCE, and
NO I WOULDN'T THINK TWICE,

I WOULD GO, VISIT AND
STAY FOR A WHILE, AND
IT WOULD FEEL JUST FINE
IT WOULD BE A JOURNEY
THAT I WON'T FORGET,
IF I COULD TURN BACK
THE HANDS OF TIME!!!


B.R.
Date: 3/26/2025

fields of lavender
as far as the eye can see,
in rows of scented purple
growing insatiable idiosyncrasies,
our minds are a rich, deep soil
and the children of our thoughts
run free,

run free
and light,
run free
and careless,
like a river to the sea.

the heart is programmed
to be broken,
to let in the light,
and the earth in us is woken,
our heart will open,
it will open,

when we take in our first
breath of this heaven.

Established landmarks removed test the fates
Burning wind in a vacant sky
Rearranged cosmic hemispheres of mind
Oracle of day not seen with naked eye

The need for warmth a thing of the past
Frigid waters the basis of new-fangled cell
Tortured derelicts kept from spiritual vision
Oracle of night hangs in day’s empty shell

Dubious means to generate a sun of artificial light
But a fling cannot replace a love that is shunned
Yet warm rays of sunlight still flow above the temporal
Still hanging in defiance of the 60 cycle hum

Regain your bearings oh heart of true light
Everything in its place: oracle of day and oracle of night.

The nemesis, genesis – as I’m naming the voices that echo
within me, the moment I drew my first breath. They love
to play presentence, they speak tainted truths in the limits
of my psyche; giving me their word before my sentencing.

They believe in foretelling my fate in my mind’s prison –
casting judgment with every utterance; can I compete
with these thoughts, will I finish their sentences?

Often, I find myself so imprisoned in my own mind –
yet the irony lies in the fact that the door stands open,
as we permit our thoughts to dominate with their own
rule, and goals of leaving us so, so broken.

My mind is a place I roam around with caution!