may all your words commend themselves
for what they might reveal.
may you feed your tongue with perpetual
thoughts that exist beyond the veil.
I insist, my brother, from where I stand; I've
yet to wield my own.
I resist, my brother, this vile land; this home
is not our home.
our call is for another day, may your throat
know ardent rest.
for when time entails your voice to save,
may it only know your best.
this isn't a gentlemen's quarrel, this isn't a
ponderer's spot;
but this stream of reality has lent me so far,
so shall I assess all that is taught.
lead with your eyes and surely you'll follow,
but lead with your ears, see better
tomorrow.
there is peace within you, even when
nothing is still
be well,
bcb
Jul 14, 2022
Jul 14, 2022 at 11:52 PM UTC
the sun shined down on me
and made a blissful scene
for the day before
i must implore
the rain laid waste of me
the sun shined down on me
and heard my tangled plea
for i dare want more
and i dare explore
all there is to be
and when the sun shines down on me
will i stand and make you see
that a soul like yours
only blossoms and soars
and how you’ve got a friend in me
be well,
bcb
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 12:43 PM UTC
today i feel quite alive
how exquisitely dear
that this ****** composition
and each soul in their position
ushers me to tears
today i feel quite alive
how transcendentally clear
that this world we inhabit
composes peace amongst rapids
and boy do i love being here
so to my people who love and to my people who see
know to endure and continue to be
be well,
bcb
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 4:04 PM UTC
hey, lovesick child with the benevolent heart
hey, lovesick child from the pinnacled start
oh, how you’ve become such finespun art
au revoir, au revoir, to that which lays scars
but know each scar that you bear, sets you apart
oh, how you’ve become such finespun art
be well,
bcb
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 12:19 PM UTC
a sunday evening I was born
a timeworn name to call my own
would adumbrate an impartible home
endowed there was a lulling pass
and a far-off train did whistle through
I was ten and wistfully torn
a naive mind won’t hear a quarrel
only boorish lies and schlocky morals
never mind that lulling pass
though, a far-off train did whistle through
a beardless boy too young to mourn
my reverie held you anchored
a voice at three forever clangors
where’d you go, oh, lulling pass
still, a far-off train did whistle through
meddling now, I palmed a thorn
a wives tale spelt of love and bliss
I won’t countervail her ornate kiss
oh how she tastes of lulling pass
and a far-off train did whistle through
a suave path was never sworn
to reminisce means to salvage the pain
a luring abyss for the susceptible brain
take me to my lulling pass
there, a far-off train will whistle through
restless, yes, but never worn
a bluff I’d be to render now
complacency, a wretched cow
I’ll meet my own dear lulling pass
as a far-off train does whistle through
be well,
bcb
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:41 AM UTC
from time to time will I stare directly into the face of the moon and imagine myself at the bottom of a well. a charming well, though pallidly dark and a scent of bromine; there lies life far below the veil of light so obscene.
a buoyant mystery.
from time to time will I stare directly into the myriad of stars and imagine each one as baroque needle ****** within a sunken black canvas. an extravagant canvas. constellation of blemishes, an unhinged art. each blotch it’s own name, to set them apart.
a shimmering reverie.
these are the gifts that call to me.
persist enduringly.
be well,
bcb
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 2:31 AM UTC
such a foolish conception to mull, so convincingly, or with great pithy, over certain ‘what if’s’ of your peculiar past. there’s ‘what if’s’ of the future and ‘what if’s’ unsurpassed, but what if ‘what if’s’ of yesterday were more a splinter in the mast.
repudiate all that distracts
be well,
bcb
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 1:55 AM UTC
too many words,
too many words out there
and how deeply unfair
that some simply won’t dare
too many words,
too many words unsaid
but tomorrow’s not dead
wake up, sleepyhead
too many words,
too many words to write
toss those thoughts aside
it will always be alright
too many words,
too many words a-brew
though it’s only a few
that I leave with you
be well,
bcb
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 4:02 AM UTC
life is but a moment,
a moment for you.
a moment is followed
by a moment that leads,
a moment to wallow
is a moment to breathe.
the beauty comes when
intent of the genuine
and intent of the mind
puncture each moment;
a moment defined.
the minuscule moments
that carry you through
and the significant moments
that bury you too,
are everything and anything
with intentional truth.
and life is but a moment
a moment for you.
be well,
bcb
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:56 AM UTC
I am as the vernal bird
boisterous with my call
this verdant earth will hear my cry
my tender, budding song
I am as the vernal bird
a hunger ill-obtained
endowed I am of nature’s gifts
yet I sing until I’m pained
I am as the vernal bird
fearful of my flight
perched above a ghastly aim
I sing with all my might
I am as the vernal bird
eternal vertigo
I will be of wit and promise
I will sing the song I know
be well,
bcb
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:48 AM UTC