I.
You always knew
the lies I've taught myself to believe
would never be good enough for him
We have the same smile
he is the last angel that can save
me
Love, I have no easy answers for you
I bury questions with every poem
but there is never enough dirt.
The ugliness behind our
pretty faces
burns holes
in the soul
and that's the first poem
I wrote about you that
wish I could burn
because I see myself
in your eyes and I wish
I could disappear from
the mirror
I don't
hate you.
I can't.
I
won't.
II.
my sweet Ollie,
your face looks like mine
you can see it in the eyes
especially when you smile
Have you discovered
children have a way
of noticing things
that are there,
seeing shapes
and shadows
that aren't?
There are monsters in the dark
but do not be afraid
I am there too.
I thought I
past the would,
could, should be
but there are no stars
in the sky and these
gnarled branches
won't give me release
and the future is the same as it always was
some things
cannot be hidden
cannot be undone
cannot be found
cannot be repaired
If I could still believe
in God and say a prayer
I would ask that he would read
these words you can't see yet
whisper them into your ear
so that with every heart beat
you have an answer for why we're
here
and one day
when you read this
know that I loved you
know that I missed you
There is still sunshine longing
to kiss your forehead
Don't sleep
until the day
is yours
and only yours.
My son, trust me
when I tell you,
there is nothing to fear
in the dark.
Fear the Heart.
BG-4/11/17
Apr 11, 2017
Apr 11, 2017 at 8:42 PM UTC
The only French I speak,
I learned
from the
uncrossable space
in bed
You.
Me.
I learned it
when we started
to just say bye
in the mornings
When we stopped
hugging after
work,
When I was too busy
playing games,
watching Netflix,
on my phone,
and you had already cleaned
the kitchen, put away the laundry,
You wanted something
you won't take now
because I wasn't too busy and I don't even play that game anymore, and I can't remember the shows but I'm sure they are still on Netflix,
and phones will always be a distraction from people to put everything down and take off the masks
we make so we can breathe
every day and connect as people. In those moments, I started missing you and you were already missing me. I just really wish I could stop going Supernova but there's a slowly swirling marble rock ball that's slowly making its way from sitting in fire of the pits of my stomach,
rolling up my chest, bouncing off ribs, escaping to the small of my back, rolling up my spine, spinning
counter clockwise
in figure eights
across my shoulder blades until it sits over my heart and sinks to my
Stomach
Again.
Now I've lost form and more and I really just need to get my
**** together and restart.
Look at what you've done
to my poetry.
BG-4/10/17
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:33 PM UTC
If my tongue were a pen
every word would be a postmarked
love letter to your ears.
If my tongue were a pen
my words wouldn’t have
cut so deeply and left you
with coupons you’ll never
use and bills that are past
due.
The page is my playground.
My Church.
My Sanctuary.
My Womb,
Our eyes are doorways to
the secrets that make us
who we are
This dark haired face with three
day scruff and glasses is a
single sentence out of context,
and our chapter isn’t finished.
I am fishing on a lake
at five years old.
passing my driving test,
graduating high school,
I am both an old soul
who
lived too much
too young,
and a child reaching
for candles
in the darkness.
If my tongue were a pen,
my darling,
my soul
would slide its fingers
through your eyeballs
and bury itself in
the deepest recesses
of your heart
If my tongue were a pen
instead of picking up all the
bad memories of this apartment
with piles of ***** clothes,
you would
find the words and phrases
we phased out of our lives for a forgotten
reason at the end
of an empty bottle night.
I am moving to a new city at 25,
becoming a Father.
Invisible to my child.
A Stranger.
I am meeting you for the first time,
we are children holding hands
in the darkness
We were children jumping from
swings,
We were the children
who knew just enough
We told each other all our secrets
We shut doors
We blew out candles
if my tongue were a pen
My darling,
it would tell you
we are not a mistake.
we are a
collection
of unfortunate
accidents
that became
something
beautiful.
Turn the Page.
BG-4/10/17
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
the chill of winter winds left with the Spring, I still feel the gusts in my bones,
I see our ghosts trapped in the trees
This forest is never blessed with the stars, The Darkness is the only thing complete, The Moon shivers, consumed by clouds
I strike black stones, but can't get them to bleed,
Your fading ghosts whisper, "Come back to me."
BG-4/9/17
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:30 PM UTC
It’s one of those things
you don’t notice is gone
until it’s gone.
The last cup of coffee.
The last roll of toilet paper.
The things we use to
make Home.
The clunking of your refrigerator
magnets on the cookie sheet
followed
by a chorus
of pictures, cards, and old
grocery lists quieting their
fluttering song.
We said nothing,
like nothing even changed.
BG-Sometime in 2017
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
I heard you howling in the distance,
saw your fading reflection
in the crimson moon
Your tone smelled of something
different, in a pitch only those
of the same pack know
We mostly hunt alone and rarely
cross paths but when we hear
the call of our own we abandon
the chase we return
the call, we charge fearlessly
into the darkness.
We’ve burnt houses trying
to save the ghosts we loved
Our blood shivers most violently
from the lost words of lovers
on December nights in half full
full size beds.
Those of us who stood
in pouring rain and left
what we found there in
a memory of a new beginning
to keep it safe from ourselves.
We’ve burned and swallowed
the ashes of so many maps
to Neverland and we can’t
remember the way
We’ve
caused shadows in smiles,
emerged from the dirt with rage
of a stubborn heart that continues
to beat.
We’ve
seen the heights
of the universe
and plummeted to the depths
of dimensions beyond
dimensions
We’ve
lifted our arms and eyes
more times than we’ve found
what we’re searching for
Our hope
torn apart by being laid
in a forgotten grave
Our talks
with Saints make
Hell a familiar place
like the sanctuary
of your freshly washed
childhood blankets
and the way they swallowed
everything you were
We solo hunt in crimson moon
rays and share different parts
of the same wilderness
The worlds can only crush
your skin if you are alone,
We return the call with the smell
of something different
charging through the darkness
BG-4/8/17
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC
the radio is
broken again
and this time
is the last time
Your songs no longer
fight the static.
the crunchy hiss
the empty stutter
between pops
crackling cackles,
unplugged from the wall
still playing the song
of something ending
into a new beginning
Your songs no longer
fight the static
but I still hum
them to myself
at the edge
of our universe
BG-4/8/17
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 1:26 PM UTC
There are monsters
whispered about by sailors
in tavern fairy tales, through
nervous anecdotes
Speaking about something
will give it life
it will come to you
from the darkest corner
of the Mirror.
You are just another
swallowed sailor
from a ship with loose lips
and burnt candle mirrors
Our story is whispered
by sailors in tavern
fairy tales about the times
when the best that it is
isn’t enough to save yourself
from the darkest corner
of the mirro
BG-4/8/17
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 1:25 PM UTC
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.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
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.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:24 AM UTC