To Whom This May Concern…

As sorry as I’ve felt,

at the foot of my bed,
fetal and folded in

holiday in flannel,

softening for a cigaro
persuading tomorrow,

while clasping laughter

of way back when,

(it sometimes slips)

to sing with your arrival
and to
ring with your arousal

like when I ushered you through

down my Nile,
risking defile,

I will never
apologize for kissing you,
loving you,

only for listening to you

only for

missing you,

like always

for you

-B. Brown

(art image courtesy of Pinterest)

Expendable

your favorite piece

to critique

every flaw

and mistake

romanticized

globalized

in your domain,

as the phantom

that shadows

your stage

plowing performance

just existing

just mediating

a message

of my salvaged

tastes

to think

I’d lay waste

to your brilliance

your grace

however fated

was never my place

to commentate

or delegate

your affinities

but obscurities

worsen

the more I try

to make amends

I never asked

for dividends

just been happening

and I have my own

worth to prove

yet you prove

left and right

my struggles

never in your hindsight

my confusion

never in your mind’s eye

and my pain

parched

of spotlight

yet,

we love

during the daylight

and you shift

in the moonlight

to demote me

and show me

it’s you

that bites harder

that the pack is bartered

by who can do what

but who will do what

in the case

of a dilemma

if no one

is any one’s

else’s problem

but I guess

that’s not your

problem

I’m

fortunately,

the problem

– B. Brown

 

(image: peeling wall paint in Magna, Utah, courtesy of Pinterest)

 

 

 

 

Forgive Your Mother

she never had anything good to say about her mother
until she needed help

I know a man who still resents his mother for
abandoning him when he was young

there was another who said she never wanted
to see her mother again

a pair like to punish their mothers by
withholding their children

and there are so many more who cannot see
how important their roles are

even if they did a shitty job at the whole protection
and education thing

even if they did more harm than good, even if they
weren’t there at all

they are still pillars, fillers, millers, eaters, feelers
and oxygen breathers

they are still human, living in the same paradoxical
world the rest of us do

struggling to reach enlightenment just as all of us
were born to do

coping with the evils, pressures and oppressions
that not every one sees

trying to put a picture together with pieces
none of us will ever see

because we are in our own realities, filling,
eating and breathing

and it’s far too easy to shift blame on an
proceeding authority

instead of letting go history
to heal presently

so we can treasure what’s
left with another

peace is rare, not to be plucked
from others

so why grudge, when we can
restore and love our mothers?

– B. Brown

I will never understand what it’s like to be abused, abandoned or ridiculed by my own mother. I can’t fathom it but I know others live it on a daily basis. Chaos, nightmare, hell… I know these words just aren’t heavy enough for those kinds of experiences so then, who am I to tell you to forgive the woman that has become the bane of your existence?

Nothing but freedom awaits when you forgive and unload that heavy burden. You don’t necessarily have to forgive them for their sake (no one is saying you have to be besties) but it’s necessary that you forgive for your own sake. The metaphysical connections we have with our mothers are so integrated that hating them eventually turns into hate for ourselves. The knots that churn in your tummy every time you think about how wrong they’ve done you only fester and expand like black holes, gaining weight by swallowing everything else about your Being. Then, what are you left with? Two black holes fighting for supremacy. Where does this lead? No where but to more heartache.

Choosing to forgive opens up more possibilities in the future. After all, nothing in this universe stays stagnant so why should your heart? Life is too short, our consciousness all too rare and our capabilities are unique only to us as beautiful, complicated, powerful humans. So if you can, with the power, autonomy and strength that the universe has invested in you, try to forgive your mother. Neither one of you deserve to remain slaves to passed mistakes.

(image by David Sketchbook)

$#!+s and Giggles

what you frettin’ for?
I thought the hook up was good?
yet you’re hanging on me
wishing I would
chill on me, what’s happening?
what happened to the heavy hand?
you knew this was the plan,
hit you up when the going’s tough
skip a block, see ya’ later, I’ll keep in touch

touch and go, that’s what I choose to know,
and I’ll let you know when I’ve had enough
mat’ fact, I’m not sure if the other night
was right, your game slicker,
tongue quicker
than your speeding bullet
and your mind wasn’t right
sippin’ on a shot a shine
was when you swallowed my shine
Hello?

Where you at? You ain’t hit me back.
I’m starting to think you got another on the side


another on the side? When did we become one?
for a while, this was all for fun
should’ve known you were a light-weight
when I held my back straight
No, no, this is my life
no one is gonna’ creep inside

and that goes for you too,
yeah, especially you.
’cause you’re making me choose
with nothing on your plate to lose
What’s good?

Hey, I thought you were swinging my way,
I just got some fire in, go on and come way


so, then, what happened to the other day
when I was a dime a dozen,
the shoe fit and now it doesn’t
since I deflect the cussin’
and I’m still out here hustlin’
because no one grapples for me
you couldn’t even see me
until your bed turned up empty
when you needed a lovely
to prove you’re noteworthy
but no amount of poison
can lead me to crawl to thee
so, you must’ve mistaken me
for piece needing a clip
when I require nine yards,
and a practiced grip
You hear me?

– B. Brown

Sell Out

Contemplating the clearance rack
that has a knack for directing
the scums my way
Weighing whether or not
to put myself on display
and risk that ashtray
conduct just to cop a cum

because all anyone wants
is to just cop a cum
tallying followers
with synthetic souls,
with those biweekly peaks
that skim Romes,
with the milligrams
to peek briefly

why own when you can rent?
why buy when you can pay by the mile?
so why shouldn’t I
feed in this frenzy
when my work is just as sleazy
as his words?


– B. Brown

Purified

she could peel me bare
and in the same breathe,
turn me into ash
then wince
at her own botch,
but I outlived
the quelling cross
becoming something
from nothing
over and over
right before her shock,
and I’d erect
brilliant every time
a credit she tried
to decline
though my shine
made the embers
glitter before her
sooty lies

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)

Enchantment

So who has me now?
Displacing me and going about,
Forgiving the injustice,
Accepting the happening,
Lapping my wounds,
It stings and it shows,
The pain to feel
Whole-halfheartedly.

Hushing me tenderly,
Sick of my whining and crying.
Pushing me to surrender,
He’s been there.
But my skin’s scabbed too thick.
The slow and painful
Peel, only then could I listen.
I need sharp love that numbs.

So, I see you clearly
Holding a knife to my vein
Every day, the edge so fine
It nicks to trick on my pages
In stages: doubt, fear then you,
In my music and side views,
Charming and soothing me
Discretely.

Then we weep again,
Exacting demise on
My shameless traditions
Exercising a right in me
That exposes me and ignites me,
Leveling me to your plane
I live again,
Never to sleep again

– B. Brown