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Feb 15 · 34
Briscoe Feb 15
Whatever it was
That my breaths came from,
You've change it.
You'll break it.
You'll make it again,
And I don't know
What's beating so fast
In my deepest parts
Since you've stolen my heart.
Feb 15 · 143
They Played A Love Song
Briscoe Feb 15
They played a love song in the car
The wife looked to her husband
The husband glanced back, before looking out far
To the road ahead.
My friend,
A world from her husband
Probably sat thinking of that distance.
They played a love song
And I thought of no one
Because I had no one to think of
As I have for so long.
Feb 14 · 28
El Bombero
Briscoe Feb 14
With blood and love in his veins,
With power for the helpless and the hopeless,
The vain hero saves the same lives as the selfless.
Yet at a dinner these women
Sense something in his smell
As though he went off
On one of his adventures
Like milk left alone too long.
Feb 14 · 28
So Tired
Briscoe Feb 14
My eyes are pressed wet against their lids
Like beans in the pantry
And like a pantry, I'm ready for sleep.
Feb 13 · 33
Briscoe Feb 13
My friend says he loves performance,
But my favourite part of a dance
Is forgetting everyone else in the room.
Just me, my mess of a body and the tune.
Feb 13 · 64
Why Bother?
Briscoe Feb 13
I have nothing to lose really,
But I don't want to be
Turned away again
And it's part of my problem
With nothing to lose
I have nothing to offer.
So why bother?
Feb 13 · 33
Staring at Trees
Briscoe Feb 13
I'm always happy staring at trees.
Conversations feel violent and unimportant
When no one agrees
On pety little bits and rants.
Poems can grow dull
And music can almost hurt
After long enough.
But trees simply lull me to a pleasure
I can't replace,
To a better place
Right where I am
Beside my friends
The tree and his leaves.
Feb 13 · 17
New Family
Briscoe Feb 13
"Shut up!" I cried, as we children raced up
And down the hallway. He never gave up.
He never let me win. It wasn't fair.
Broken, indoor winds streaming through our hair.
We raced and raced and raced. Trails in the floor
Leveled by our vehement feet. Those closed doors
Where our mother's colleagues blocked out the noise,
Shutting out relentless cries from a boy
That would in distant days grow to be me.
I have an image of the place I see
As I close my eyes. A faded, dimmed reprise.
These old memories remind me of now
As now reminded of them
As yesteryears remind me of yesterday
And things I chose to say.
I recently called someone my family
And now I wonder if I have made the word cheap.
I don't have these memories
Not with my new company.
Feb 12 · 28
Grey Religion
Briscoe Feb 12
I have my acne medication
With chocolate milk
For balance like Budhism.
I have a niche,
I go to an Adventist church to practise my Spanish.
But I'm not Christian.
I'm interest in Arabic and Turkish
So I might become a temporary Muslim.
Unfortunately however,
All these religions have the same ending
With me dead and anywhere but Heaven.
Briscoe Feb 12
Opinions splatter across my mind
Like graffiti on a sign
That gets harder and harder to conceive
But all the more interesting to see.
Feb 12 · 22
Hairy Ladies
Briscoe Feb 12
Don't take this the wrong way
But since I have nothing else to say,
It doesn't do any harm
But you see a girl who hasn't shaved her arm
And you just think "that's hair,
That shouldn't be there."
It's not a problem,
This isn't an accusation
Or a criticism
Or a part of any -ism,
Just a part of my experience
Of women with hairy limbs.
Feb 12 · 15
Briscoe Feb 12
I watched skyscrapers
Batter the clouds which drifted lower
In elegantly soft head butts.
They appear, like the utterings of a mut
That puff into frost.
A paradise lost
As the only city in the sky
Are towers, built up high,
And higher they build
And higher they build
Up and up like Babylon,
Reminding of what was undone
In ages gone.
Feb 12 · 26
Teenage Mind
Briscoe Feb 12
Stop thinking I only think
About *** and how to be ****,
I don't like the accuracy.
Stop thinking I only think
About *** and how to be ****,
Sometimes I actually attempt to be.
Feb 11 · 27
Something Romantic
Briscoe Feb 11
We snuck up like clouds,
Away from the music
And the constructions site sounds
That rumbled up the hill.
We used our jackets on the wet dew
To keep us warm, to make our soft picnic
And then with just me, the moon and you,
Stole a brief kiss.
Feb 11 · 25
From Ages Past
Briscoe Feb 11
I saw three black towers' silhouettes
Against a white light
Deep into the night.
We knew these were the bones of brick giants
From ages passed.
Before the steel spiders killed them all.
Before the steal spiders dragged their hulking bodies
To flattened the roads
And weft shattered glass, silver webs
Over and in every hole of flesh
In the old brick giants' remnants.
I lay a paw down and listened for a whistle
And knowing it wasn't to come, listened
To hear a stray cat's story teller tell the end.
Yet, great sprays of illumination
Splashed up on our secret meeting
And scattered us to the night.
Feb 11 · 28
Trolley of Thought
Briscoe Feb 11
She's a midnight coffee
And although I'll never get to sleep with her
She'll help me with my poetry.
This reminds me of a song, or the uttered
Idea that manifested in fantasies of a non-singer.
The story of a man who finds a trolley
Down in the river.
He decides to pull it from the debris.
For what a strange story it'd be.
So he could have that metaphor
For a speech or some eulogy.
About the trolley that was pulled up
Out of the river.
Because, he'd like to think
Someone would pull him,
Despite that he stinks and sinks and thinks
Too much on stupid stories.
I think I missed the train of thought there,
But here she comes again, so fanatically fair.
"Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium."
-T.S. Eliot
Feb 10 · 22
Tired of Alone
Briscoe Feb 10
I seek a sleep so deep the seas seem to shrink
Beside that night, with white, silent, fire to drink,
From dark glasses resembling those trembling hearts,
We sold so long ago, alone in the dark.
The shade of flame and heartache rained like snow tries to.
We seemed to dream, quickly deceived that we'd too
Have these deep histories between you and me.
Sixteen, seventeen and soon we'll see eighteen
Leave. My ages like centuries bereave me,
This lost soul growing old, with no growth to show.
So, I'll seek sleep so deep oceans grow shallow.
Feb 10 · 25
My Silly Little Kōan
Briscoe Feb 10
I think humans are very silly.
I think we gave angels wings,
Then realising we were their only company,
Told them "Run! By God, run for your lives!"
Just to have them turn around and say
"Then why'd you give us wings?"
Feb 10 · 108
Briscoe Feb 10
Steal slides silently
To lacerate the tender
Arteries and attack
Bones with a blatant stab.
Feb 10 · 27
Supermarket Sonnet
Briscoe Feb 10
I liked her. I guess. beep there's two problems.
First, beep speaks little English. beep would like
To think I beep quite big English. ehem
"Would you like two for one?" "No thanks. One's fine."
I mean we've spoken beep Spanish at least.
I beep that I speak un poquito beep Español.
The beep I seek's unknown to beep.
"Thank you! Have a nice day." Maybe I'm cold,
Desperate for a body to warm me.
There is a stiff breeze in this dark carpark.
Secondly, she's religious. I believe
She'll wait for marriage. So a dates the start
Of some far greater commitment. I mean
My Spanish is Okay, but not ready for eternity.
"We were very tired, we were very merry --
We had gone back and forth all night upon the ferry.
It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable --
But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table,
We lay on the hill-top underneath the moon;
And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon."
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
Feb 10 · 34
Sex Death
Briscoe Feb 10
I am at such a point of unemployed and undesired,
That I am turned on at the same time as a lightsaber
And I care more for a Skywalker
Than for ***, money or any other transfer
Between one body and another.
In fact,
The only bodies I plan to explore
Are planets far beyond my ragged claws.
"Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,"
-T.S. Eliot
Feb 10 · 41
The Dragon
Briscoe Feb 10
There was a light in the clouds.
We all felt it as it came
And forgot it as its sound
Faded, along with the rain.
The smoke cleared its throat and then
Dragon fire precisely struck
All the world at once.
Feb 9 · 37
To Write
Briscoe Feb 9
My boldpoint booms like bazooka
In a silent movie.
My books takes off like a booking
For a spacecraft imaginary
Feb 9 · 31
Briscoe Feb 9
Can life stop opening my eyes?
It's scary when I see.
Can life stop opening my eyes?
I'm trying to sleep.
Feb 9 · 173
What I Want Wobbles
Briscoe Feb 9
In the day
When there's enouth light in the air
To bathe your every inch of skin and wave
Of hair.
That's when you have to be perfect
When everything shown must catch the eye like a net.

Yet in the night
When I walk alone by the streetlights
And the light is scarce,
I just want just enough
To shine on your smile,
To see it gleaming white
And more importantly,
Briscoe Feb 4
There's a haunted door in my house.
I hear it rattle and shake, all throughout.
Maybe there's a human there,
Locked inside and scared.
Maybe that's what's it like to be gay,
In secret, with hands battering at the closet.
Something's licking at the ****.
Something's tongue's a flicker
And even from your bed
You feel it's hunger.

Meanwhile your too scared to even look that way,
Down the hallway.
Convincing yourself that desperate whimper
Was just the wind or a nightmare.
Briscoe Feb 3
I cried during the movie Step Brothers,
And I must warn for spoilers.
Basically, a girl I like called me a loser.
I wasn't a hard worker, not anymore.
I was without an employer.
I didn't focus on academia.
I didn't focus on anything more
Than being a writer.
I knew I was probably gonna die poor.
Then I watched Step Brothers
And here were these losers
And I just watched and as I did, all i could remember
Was "You're a loser."
Then I sank further and further
Into self pity. Flattened and weaker.
Then Will Ferrel sang 'Por Tí Volaré'
And I felt a tear…
And another
And another
And all together,
In this fall of water
And for some reason,
One moment of pure beauty
That wasn't ashamed to be comedy,
Like that part of Shrek 2 with 'I Need A Hero.'
It magically, shamelessly,
Lifted a shadow
From me.
It's strange to me how many movies and Tv shows originally intended for children have such a resonance with adults as well and a lot people blame nostalgia, but I always wonder if it's because these movies and shows allow themselves to not be taken too seriously without sacrificing any of the passion behind it. They don't conform or try to be Shakespeare, they're just artists doing their best in a simple story.
Briscoe Feb 3
I like to retreat into my head at times,
The background sounds like a breeze of night
Flowing through my brain.
My mind a great open plain
With nothing to worry about at all.
My view, all these shapes, colours and transferals,
Where people and places used to be.
I like to be inside my head
When there's nothing thought or contemplated.
"How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d"
-Alexander Pope, Eloisa de Abelard
Feb 3 · 31
The Passion
Briscoe Feb 3
I've crucified my left hand
And I'm trying to strum a guitar with the other.
In the middle, I could understand
If someone thought my mouth's made to be a gospel singer
But instead it just sighs
"Mum, can you sign this?"
What a sacrifice?
What a waste?
At least, this poem's written online
So it doesn't waste a page
Of paper.
Apparently, Alexander the Great popularized crucifixion. What a Great Guy!!
Feb 3 · 32
Reckless Consequence
Briscoe Feb 3
"IF I die,"
I replied.
Briscoe Feb 3
Lick a nicotine lollipop coz that sounds cool.
Kick start a guillotine to drop out of school.
I'd rather you judge 'drunk me' than 'bored me.'
That's not true but it's catchy.
Tell yourself you're filling your life with spice
As each season goes by as recklessly wasted time.
I have a friend, he can be so stupid and so proud of it, because he thinks taking ridiculous and unnecessary risks makes him cool. Which is funny because that used he me and now that I've done those stupid things, they're a part of my identity and my own sense of masculinity, yet here I am criticising someone for that behaviour I take a sort of secret pride in. In the end I guess I can only say that I'm grateful my mistakes haven't had worse repercussions and try learning to take pride in something more valuable.
Feb 3 · 18
The Use of Light
Briscoe Feb 3
When it was dark and decayed
I once crawled to the deepest peak
In my heart of rock and clay.
There was a great black sea
Expanding beyond me.

I had been saving a bundle of fireworks
Ready to set them off with a kiss,
As I was told to by all my unsung teachers.
But finding myself so foreign from bliss
I threw the fireworks to the abyss.

Then far up on the surface
A single finger touch my face.
Then from a spark echoed a thunder bolt
That split my heart in half,
A sheen beam of lightning
To ignite…

A thousand sparks of green, red and gold
Danced like a rainbow
No longer segregated to one flow.
Each streaming particle
Of blue through to purple,
Wobbled like feathers on Angel wings
Settling after flight.

I still had to climb back down the mountain,
I still had to do it myself,
But the way was bright,
And I now knew why I should do it.
"Seems like only yesterday
Life belonged to runaways
Nothing here to see, no looking back
Every sound monotone
Every color monochrome
Life began to fade into the black
Such a simple animal
Sterilized with alcohol
I could hardly feel me anymore
Desperate, meaningless
All filled up with emptiness
Felt like everything was said and done

I lay there in the dark and I closed my eyes
You saved me the day you came alive."
-Foo Fighters
Feb 3 · 543
A Girl
Briscoe Feb 3
I don't think of her like a desire.
I think of her as an option.
Thinking time and time again
I guess...
"And know me, no you don't even know me
You're so sweet to try, oh my, you caught my eye
A girl like you is just irresistible"
- The Fratellis
Feb 1 · 22
True Horror Story
Briscoe Feb 1
Today, I napped,
So some demon snatched
My sleep for the night
In a three hour snap;
And you can say that wasn't very bright
But it was when I napped
And now it's dark at home
And I'm all alone.
"It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone."
-John Steinbeck
Briscoe Feb 1
I don't mind my life
With an invisible brush
Behind every shade and light.
I like my life
With a blossom and blooming flower
In every manhole cover
And shooting stars
In everyone's headlights
Rushing by like fiery eyes or fireflies.

If there is a soul above,
In the heavens
With veins of silk magic and white,
If he has found me to love,
I don't mind him so much.

And if not, then now is enough,
Enough time not to mind my life.
"Be thankful that you have life, and forsake your vain and presumptuous desire for a second one."
-Richard Dawkins

"9 I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. They will come in and go out, and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and **** and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."
-John 10: 9-10 (NIV)
Feb 1 · 23
Briscoe Feb 1
I always flush the toilet
Before I use it.
An old habit
From years of finding the ****** bit
Before I ever got a chance
To feel relief.
"You have to die a few times, before you can really live."
-Charles Bukowsky
Jan 22 · 36
A Wish On The Waves
Briscoe Jan 22
The rabbits gathered on the shore
Like small, restless pebbles.
She was so unsure.
Were we to tremble?

The sea, she welcomes me.
She is so sure.
But she is so very elderly.
Perhaps she only appears to be so sure.

If only I owned this wide life.
With all its tides and strides and strife.
The dust swindled in the wind.
I should be so living. I should be so alive.

I should be sewn into this tapestry.
I should be so very calm.
The current in the water
Unaffected by the waves.

Cold is the dawn that rises to raze.
Old the worn and woven waves,
Sure of their destination
To damnation against the barren stone.
"The perpetual cadence of the vast sea
Stirs a restless desire that engulfs me.
Like an infinite force I dare not impede,
Briefly rushing in - only to then recede.
Beckoning me to leave life's safe shore,"
-Belinda Stotler
Briscoe Jan 22
Cupid has missed my heart
And pinned me through my spine
To the wall. My back bone is but shards
And my legs dangle, paralysed.

All because I left open the window
To let the cool change through.
I gave the winged fiend his show
And he has killed me with the view.

The cool change came
And so has the rain.
So have the snakes
And creatures of the blue.
My red mixes and my body’s but food.
My red fades and my bones are but a buoy.
I have let my body want with but eyes and wither
As though I have painted myself red and died of anaemia.
"Letters I've written, never meaning to send
Beauty I've always missed, with these eyes before
Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore"
-Moody Blues
Jan 22 · 28
Take. Take. Take.
Briscoe Jan 22
Take one of those hot days
When it's fun to be mindless,
When thinking's the only way to feel your pain,
So you lose your mind on purpose.

Take a taste of meaning.
Enjoy flying like a limestone,
Stationary until some wise being
Picks you up and your thrown.

Chisel your own name
Into a comments section
For the fame
Of three idiots appreciation.

Take a beer to spare
And spend your life
Dancing, prancing like a mare.
Take some bad advise.
"The unexamined life is not worth living"
Briscoe Jan 22
In one of those nights where your eyes are useless
But to feel wetness, pooling, cooling your skin,
There's a song of images that won't progress.
There are thoughts paper thin and all is dim,
Yourself included.

There's a cool beach.  
There's someone to share the deep.
There's a tender reach.
There's the ocean
Pooling, cooling your skin.

Pulling back the curtains
Stops the performance,
And all is dark,
As though cold tar.
"You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters,
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands."
-T.S. Eliot
Jan 21 · 29
That Fuck Cupid
Briscoe Jan 21
That **** Cupid's at it again.
But this time he hasn't gone for my heart.
He aimed at my eyes and went straight through them,
Getting my brain as well. The **** which was smart
Is permanently dumbfounded.
Oh, to be so brain dead.
"At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, alas, become of me?"
-John Lyly
Jan 21 · 112
Creation Story
Briscoe Jan 21
Please, pardon my prayer,
Leaking from lips like grease from hair,
May Apollo ride along,
May muses fill me with song,
May Zeus strike me with the creative spark,
May Cupid strike my heart,
Till my shin, legs and shredded head
Lie in decomposing composition,
Yet let my tongue live longest
To taste that inspiration.
"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty."
-Maya Angelou
Briscoe Jan 21
I carry my ukele to the toilet after midnight
So if monsters attack
I can threaten them with a beating
And if they aren't scared by that
I can play it.
"How can you tell the difference between ukulele songs?

The name."
-An old joke
Jan 21 · 24
I Love What I Do
Briscoe Jan 21
If I can do it, I love what I do.
If I don't get lost looking for reasons to.
If paper skyscrapers don't get in my way.
Finding nothing in intervening grey
Streets, like dull, entangled, eternal snakes,
Struggling to seem even more static.
But when I'm not doing everything I do,
I really do love what I do.
Don't you?

I do?
What commitment is my life?
What conviction is my life?
"The human race is a monotonous affair. Most people spend the greatest part of their time working in order to live, and what little freedom remains so fills them with fear that they seek out any and every means to be rid of it."
-Johann Wolfgang van Goethe
Jan 21 · 38
A Fly On The Wall
Briscoe Jan 21
A fly dots the paper white wall.
So close to real, he might even fall.
The paint of that splot
All but taking off.
"I have a camera that I wanted to paint and thought "how the heck do I do that without ruining the camera?" There are many people interested in using medium-format plastic"
Jan 20 · 33
Sleep, Gentle God
Briscoe Jan 20
There was one,
Infinite and singular.
Who split in two.
One was the mother.
One was the son.
One was the father
One was the daughter too.
One pulls strings from the null
And played a tune
So one would sleep,
Dreaming of the song,
Of stars across the dark sky,
And a thousand sparkling eye
To see them through.
"He cannot be established, he is not made. He himself is the Supreme Being."
-Guru Granth Sahib Japu 5–9
(Translation by Earnest Trumpp)
Briscoe Jan 20
Let me say 'farewell', old friend.
As though you could hear so far.
Let my gentle wish to see you again
Not be shun upon by the real's dark part,
That part between us. Let me draw the rust
Into something sentimental.
Do not stir within my dreams so hushed.
Do not leave me so ill.

The entire night sky.
The deepest of the sea.
A sheet of leaves.
All could be the distance
Between you to me.

I will not waste this wish of farewell
On you.
I will sprinkle it on myself
Like a honey dew
To sweeten and glue
These broken pieces.
Sing a lullaby. Bring him by.
In my dreams at night.
So that I may rest.
"Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too."
-Pablo Neruda

It's not the same feeling, but close enough.
Jan 20 · 283
Briscoe Jan 20
Goodbye, old friend.
I'll remember you,
And if the years allow you to,
Come back and spend
An hour with me, just one or two.
"Clinging to not getting sentimental
Said she wasn't going but she went still"
-Alex Turner
Jan 20 · 21
Once & Forever
Briscoe Jan 20
I watched the soldier, fallen
Aloft the absorbent green.
When will I be forgotten?
I once said of memories
They are dead things hung on walls
Drawn from imagination.
How will time, after I fall
Withdraw my memorium.

I once thought the past was dead,
Stiff, motionless in the grave.
I now see the past lives yet,
Onward, unchanging to wave
No flags of dull surrender
Whether or not we remember.
It is not that the song is sung of us
But that we have sung
And we let others sing
While we each have a time
To draw ourselves into eternity.
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn."
-Laurence Binyon
Jan 20 · 28
Briscoe Jan 20
The train hit me
With the ocean's blues.
Blows from sad songs, deep
As an ocean tune
Pouring through shells.
Deep as empty wells.

The key was patience
But now it's courage
I left on the bench
In the last carriage.
"Stop this train" -John Mayer
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