IF I could have stopped you.
I would have jumped in my car, raced to Hohenwald,  and slung gravel as I sped down your driveway, braked fiercely to stop inches from that guest house,  and fly out  from the inside of my car,  screaming, "Don't do it!  I'm here,   Uncle Brandon!  I love you! We all love you! "
I would have ran up the cedar steps, kicked the door in with my foot,  and yelled as loud as I could until you answered me.
No matter how many times I yell at your headstone, you never answer me.
You were a cowboy, traveling all over the country,  and seeing sights that many would never witness in their lifetime.
You had broken every bone in your body twice
you had a sense of humor
intelligent (two degrees), both in English and Teaching.
You had dreams of being a lawyer and
a college professor.
Only you were a cowboy first.
You loved to ride,  and you loved with a heart bigger than Montana sky.
I wish you had not left.
I miss seeing your dark brown matted hair, peeking from beneath your torn,  curved cowboy hat as you tipped it at me, with a wink,  adding, "See you when the wind changes"
You were a poet.
I think of you when I write,  and part of me still blames myself for not telling anyone about seeing you at my work that night.  You looked awful and I knew something was wrong,  but I didn't say anything--I have no clue why.  
You loved life,  why did you leave?
You had love,  why did you look?
We were your family,  why did you leave?  
I shouldn't be typing this
You are dead.
The world lost a true cowboy.
A man that lived by the sweat of his brow,  and the dirt on his clothes.
I would have stopped you.  I would have grabbed that gun,  and hugged you for the longest time,  and then I would have saddled up your horse and one for me.
Then the four of us would trot along to the highest hill we could find,  and I would watch the sun move across the sky, and tell you that every sunset of every day is always different, so you don't need to miss a single one.

Uncle Brandons last poem
   Im riding. Riding this way is like playing a finely tuned instrument, at times delicate, at other times powerful... The true artist can play with equal dexterity a soft ballad or a crashing march.

~~~



i am broken
i am broken
i'm a broken girl

I am tired
i am tried
of this cold cruel world

it is pointless
it is pointless
it's pointless it seems

when you're broken
when you're broken
and have no dreams

~~~

I am broken
i am broken
I'm a broken man

there is no one
there is no one
who really understands

how can i
how can i
live in this place?

the eternal
the eternal
rat........ race

~~~

I was broken
I was broken
for you my child

I lived here
I lived here
in this world so wild

I was beaten
I was beaten
and hung on a cross

I died
I died
for the lost

I know all
I know all
that you go through

when you're broken
when you're broken

I'LL RESCUE YOU



SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) October 20, 2014

I don't want someone
So illuminated
With a bright light
Too keep me up at night

I want someone with contrast
Darkness, shadows
That makes the white whiter
And the black blacker

I want your darkness to add to my light
And my daybreak to enhance your night

I want to be your moon
With you as my sun
I ache to be your dark sky
Touched by your brilliant stars

I want someone with contrast
Darkness, shadows
That makes the white whiter
And the black blacker

I want your darkness to add to my light
And my daybreak to enhance your night

I don't need black
Or white
I need both, harmony
That you bring

I want someone with contrast
Darkness, shadows
That makes the white whiter
And the black blacker

I want your darkness to add to my light
And my daybreak to enhance your night

if you ask if I want breakfast
"No" is my reply
When inside my stomach is growling
"It does not bother me"
is the answer I reply

she decided to leave
my head was full of whys
I said ,"I don't need you . I can
on my own get by"
she looked doubtful
"Go on , I got this ,
me myself and I ."

Then came the day that I was silent
I had no more words to say
still I managed to make a statement
as they lowered me into the ground
. . .this is my last and final lie

The sounds of sorrow :
soft whimpers under covers
late , late on a cold winter's night

Low moans of eternal pain
that one has tried to turn
into  . . ."I forgot"

Long wails that are full
of fury and devastation
as a hurricane's whip cracks

The heart that has been
kicked and stomped
and stabbed to froth

Flipping pages of poetry
fanning the heat
of discourse

Long sighs
sitting in a swing
looking down . . .coughs

Hearing what other's think
what they say
in silence

The scrape of a mental shovel
digging deeper
trying to bury the past

Oh ! Of course !
the frustration of deliberations
throwing and shattering glass

Yelling in a canyon
but there are no echoes
bouncing back

The ******* sound
made from a razorblade
that is in your mouth

and then silence

Here is the big bang!
This orchestra of my heart-
Screams out the supernova in me
Listen,to this rage!
The thirst to reach the stars.
I'm rolling in depths of my own thoughts
Deep,very deep into that rustic hall,
Decorated with pieces of delicate rubies,
The very pieces of gems straight from my heart.


My eyes blinks for a second,
While the pages flips to the next,
Fire of desire-burning the path of my dream away-
Burning that hall away in the center of my mind.
No no,did you say revenge?
This is no ordinary war.
Is a journey from the heart to the mind,
And the mind to the heart-the only shooting range.
The only territory of a daily struggle.
Is the orchestra of my heart,
How can I retreat in disarray?


Time is like rapids we all walk on,
So slippery,that I can barely embrace it
This sweetness so addictive,
I run and run..trying to chase it.
Feeling intoxicated from this deception.
Where am I running to in this world?
I wondered till I bumped into that dead end.
After many days of venturing through every cracks,
And each corners of this illusion.


I believed in darkness.
I believed in the light that comes after it.
I believed in the unknown.
Then I believed every trail I left on this fragile world-
Was trying to connect its dots in the paradise above.
I finally believed I was finding my way home.
For I am not a deception.
I am real.
This orchestra in my heart you hear-
Is a miracle and I am-
living that miracle with
the biggest bang you have ever heard of.

Work thee not
for thy Crazy;
make thy Crazy
work for thee.