Being here,
with you there
is killing me

No drink special,
No positive thought,
No drug changes

the fact that a piece
of my life is literally
(figuratively)
missing

The love we shared,
your mother and I,
burned away in the
early morning hours
just like Bukowski said

I didn't understand what he meant
when I heard him say it, but with
every drink I'm starting to understand

how, but not why

And why is why we're here
isn't it?

I never wanted children,
but when I held you for
the first time wrapped
in a blue blanket with the
sun shining through the window
and landing on your untouched
cheeks for the first time

all I wanted was you. All I wanted
was to hold all eight pounds of
you forever in my arms

I never wanted to let you go,
I never wanted to leave,

She told me she would bring
you back and life would be
complete

and so I drove back home,
but knew Home wasn't where
I was going

We would take matching family
pictures, and she would paint
and I would come home from
work with a paycheck the world
promised with a college degree

But that's not what happened.

And I'm sorry for everything,
Bad sons make terrible fathers,
but mine was the best I could
ask for

and I'm still trying to live
up to his standards for you

and it's hard because he
worked and worked

stopped writing,
stopped drinking
for me and it kills me
to think I'll never be like
him, no, it kills me
because I'll never be as close
to being God as he was,
as he is,
as he will be remembered

Alpha, Omega, never
Beta, just a better man
than I am with the strength
to hold a family together

Stronger than my mortal heart,
Stronger than whatever lurks
in the dark

I've fallen prey to my demons
and killed my angels in ways
I hope you'll never learn,

people ask how you're doing
and when the last time I saw
you was and what I wanted to
show and tell you

and my heart breaks, and my life
escapes in timed gasps between my
lips and I can only answer

in blood drips on the floor,
and words fueled by weakness
and insecurity,

and if I could still believe
in God and send a prayer
I would ask that he would read
these words
you can't see yet

and whisper them into your ear,
so that with every heartbeat
you have an answer for why we're
here,

You have an answer for reckless
actions of love fueled by youth

So you can understand that love,
while it may not be always eternal,
still means something long after
the carcass has decayed in the sun

Your mother and I,
were in love once and we
charged the stars like we were
their power source

One day, when you read these words
please don't hate her,
please don't hate me,

We only wanted what was best
for you, and somehow that got
transcribed as you being there
and me being here

with a full glass of
alcohol,
questions,
love

for you.

Black Chuck Taylor's, with motor
oiled stained laces,
always match

Black V-necks or a shirt of any
color with a Black
zip-up hoody

Blue jeans, stone washed, brand
new, old pair, new style,
always denim

Black matches everything,
looks classy, hard to keep
clean

But when blue and purple,
orange and green,

and some shades of green
and yellow look the same,

Fashion isn't so fun and shopping
becomes an exercise in humility

"Excuse me miss, does this shirt
match this tie?"

"Excuse me sir, but can you tell me
what color shirts I can wear with
these shoes?"

The world doesn't understand.
I don't see the same colors of
the world and I'm clothed
Black

not from depression,
no, not that depression,
a different kind

The kind that's only mine

The kind that can stand by you
and watch a different sunset,

The kind that sees different hues
in A Starry Night,

The kind that would love to paint,
but can't even draw the lines
to color inside of, much less
paint the right colors in the first place

It's crazy to think of seeing the world
through another's eyes
but if we ever figure it out
Hold my spot in line.

When it's in the air
you'll not know what it
is at first, but once you
smell it once you never
forget

It lingers there as you walk
through it, hanging
in the air as prokaryotic
pill shaped molecules

It always smells different
but the symptoms are
as follows

words stuck in the back
of your throat,
sweaty palms and shortness
of breath
a sense of longingness
juxtaposed
with a sense of fear

An overwhelming need
to communicate all the
new thoughts on your
stone written findings
of what we need to survive

Don't be alarmed, or rush
off to the doctor thinking

"There is something wrong
with me"

We all breathe this in,
multiple times in our lives,

Love's pathogens have a way,
of infiltrating our senses and
controlling our thoughts and
actions like our physical bodies
are more of a third party parasite
to what our souls need
to feed on.

So don't choke on your words,
reach out with dry hands for hers,
the fear will always be there,
because that's love
and this is how we react
when it is in
the air.

#love   #life   #loss   #happiness   #bryangrissom   #grizzo  

On the other side
of my over  
                 thinking

I’ve come to realize I still have
more questions
                         than answers

The future feels just the same as
it did ten years ago when my now
was my future
                       then

Friends are more often
thought about
                       than visited

when later today turns into tomorrow
and tomorrow turns  
                                into this weekend
and then next weekend
once a month  
                        whenever you can

because time pushes us all into
this strange thing
                            called Life

and it’s full of all kinds of bullshit
designed to rob you of
your money
                    your sanity
                                       your time

but don’t let this discourage you
from greeting tomorrow
                                      with open arms

and a head full of more questions
than answers

The magic doesn’t seem
to happen as often,
but on the days it does

You have a good day at work,
you pay all the monthly bills on time,
your schedule syncs with an old
college friend and you meet for
coffee, or street tacos from a
local food trailer, or you shoot
pool and whiskey at a dive bar
early Saturday evening

and it feels like the old times again,
and you learn the things you did
were your first stumblings into
adulthood and even though they
sometimes change the way you walk
forever, it’s those times you discover
again when you start your third game
and the songs you queued on the jukebox
start playing and now that you can enjoy
the taste of good whiskey more than the
quantity of well, and all the loose fragments
of the memories we carry every day, left open
on the table in a journal with more strikeout
lines than unmolested phrases all become
complete with each corner pocket called
shot, each memory recalled and retold with
language alluding Greek Epics and Shakespearean
Tragedies,

It all starts to make more sense in ways
and stops making sense in others,

and the future is the same as it always was

some things
                    you can change,
some people
                    you can keep
some days
                  turn into weeks,
                  months, and years
                  trying to make sense
of what’s coming,
of what’s gone,
of just what, exactly,
                                we have now.

#love   #life   #time   #questions   #bars   #answers   #bryangrissom   #grizzo   #memoties  

I’m hungrier lately, not because I never eat,
no, my usual diet of everything just seems to be

bland,

I’m hungry for words that do more
than echo deep into my eardrums,

I’m hungry for eyes that see more
than literal words on a page,

I’m hungry for fingertips with minds
of their own and empty palms

grown tired of holding air,

I’m hungry for my nose hairs to be
tickled with the forgotten scents of childhood,

I’m hungry for another tongue to touch
mine in search of Truth, or at the very

least a lie
you can love,

So today, I won’t be having the usual,
Give me yesterday’s special,
and do the same for me tomorrow,

that way we have a little bit of time
to let them talk about it,

and they will talk of your cooking
and my hunger until your apron

unties

and I’ve had my fill
of all the extraordinary things
we let eat us, that culminate

into this dish called
Life with a steady helping
of an unknown spice.

If you're reading this and you can understand what's being said

I'm sorry,
It's too late for you

The World pushed us into each other
because I wanted you to find me

When I started writing, I thought I had
something to say that no one has

said before, but I've recently found out
that not much has changed except

the ways that we hate one another
and even that, hasn't changed much

Stop for a second, remember yourself
as a child, you remember

playing baseball in the backyard
with your brother or

holding your father's hand for the first
time crossing the street

Remember how you thought things
would never change?

Brothers eventually move away,
and now you cross streets without

even looking both ways, with your hands
stuffed into your pockets

Now, you get it, how the World pushes
everyone around until one day

you wake up in an old town
you've lived in for four years

and you think,

When did the World
get so goddamned ugly?

Then you realize, it always was,
you just needed one final push

one final departure, one last pitch
for Glory,

to understand that, but not one
good reason for why,

Why?

Because when we grow older,
we get sick of striking out,

and we learn our Fathers were never Gods
just Men wanting one more

home run,
street to cross,

One more chance to prove
that the World doesn't always win,

If you're reading this,
I'm sorry,
It's already too late,

Here comes the goddamned ball again,
swing for the fences

Show the world what you can do
with your last chance

I'm waiting for you with open arms
at Home plate

NaPoWrimo #30 - Write a poem backwards

I walked out to my car this morning,
and it started right up

My hair, still wet from the shower
is still full and covering my head

I've got new framed pictures to hang,
and clean sheets on the bed

Work was alright, I guess, I don't
hate my job but I hate the idea

that we work for old paper to trade
for bright shiny things that always
seem to lose their glimmer

I've finally got a good woman
in my life who whispers to my heart
and knows what to say to chase
away the dark.

Every kiss on my cheek, every bite
of dinner, every time I feel alone
I reach over and take her hand in mine
and know that the day needs the night.

I have love, health, a paycheck, and the
freedom to drive until the tank is empty

True, there are still things that I want,
but don't need, and things I need

that were taken from me, like my son,
his first words and his first stumblings
in this world

But every day passed is another conquered,
another reason to keep moving
forward

When you've seen as many sunsets and
broken hearts as I have
You are used to the fact that
the sun returns,
love is real,
and life is beautiful.
even on the old, dirty
rainy days.

Napowrimo #29 - Write a review poem
#love   #life   #loss   #napowrimo   #bryangrissom   #grizzo  

I'll never go back,
left a trail of gasoline
and dropped a lit match

NaPoWriMo #28 - Write a poem about a bridge

Alarm
goes off,
cup of coffee

Cigarette,
back porch,
before fighting traffic,

Work,
Work, Work
9:30 to 6:30

Dinner,
watch movies
or write poetry

Seems fulfilling enough
I can't complain

NapoWrimo #27 - Write a hay(na)ku

I guess it's time to reveal the truth,
It's not like I've been lying to you

but I haven't really formally introduced
myself to you, and I've been thinking

It's time to let you in so I can offer
you a cigarette and you can

drink my finest wine while I tell you
that Grizzo is something more

than a childhood nickname that stuck
to the bottom of my shoes like

parking lot gum, or your grandmother's
lipstick on your cheeks, you see

I was quiet, shy, and entering puberty
when people started calling me Grizzo

Some people in high school and college
didn't even know Bryan

Which is funny because I didn't know
myself either but I knew Grizzo

mainly because people expect certain
things and I keep my word

so when I told them I would jump
off the roof, they just stood around

drunk, but not as drunk as me,
No one expects to see Crazy in action

But at least once they do they never
forget the time you jumped off the roof

and hit the ground at 3 in the morning
so hard that your glasses flew off

and the only thing you broke
was your pride, or how you would

always answer everything with "Fuck it"
because if life sucks you might as well

get your nut too

Camel Crush Bold cigarettes in an ashtray
and Jameson on ice with a splash of water

These things can help the words on
late nights or lazy afternoons

Sometimes the best lunch is
a tapped Porter or Stout on special

and putting down a few lines
on crumbled bar room napkins

This is his old habit, this is how
he needs to come out from time to
time

Grizzo isn't all shits and giggles
though because as much as I want

to be tough, be a hard ass, always be right
I'm weak, I'm fragile, and so fucking wrong

about all the things you need to be right
about in life, but I'm turning 29 soon

and I think I'm finally starting to get

why the light needs darkness to shine
why love needs hate to thrive,
why Bryan needs Grizzo to write.

NaPoWriMo #26 - Write a persona poem. I felt like it was time to explain "Grizzo"
 
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