Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Apr 11 · 352
Powehi - 4/10/2019
Gaze upon the hidden
an impossibility
light is forbidden
in this distorted intangibility

But we see
finally
we see
general relativity
Feb 16 · 132
A Can of Life
Life is a soup
and I am a fork
how life slips
and drips on the floor

Yeah, it’s a mess
Feb 13 · 447
Sorry
I'm always sorry
but never apologize
sorry about that
Feb 13 · 148
Space Madness
Engines turned off as I free fall
and watch
drifting in this star's gravity
the ships
bathe in the ocean of life
and then
one continues toward the flame
a moth
heats up and dissipates
another lost to madness
So it goes
Feb 13 · 146
Frost's Arrow
Reflect upon the history that's left behind
swim in the ocean of predictions and expectations
gliding along with the arrow of time
orbiting moments of quick sensations
as we dance round in a ring and suppose
but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
Dec 2018 · 211
My Loquacious Tide
Brandon Conway Dec 2018
You,
my loquacious tide
flow into my heart
then ebb into
evanescent dreams
metamorphosing
melancholy into
this new form
these eyes have never
seen

How are you so beautiful?

the heat arises
inside this vessel
when you are near
451 Fahrenheit
this palpitating page
burns for your words
burns
burns
burns
to hear you speak
to see you flow
through time
gracefully

How are you so graceful?

The curve of your smile
is contagious
if only while in the presence
of your vanilla scent
your skin,
your laugh,
your countenance,
how they are so radiant

How do I capture this firefly?
Nov 2018 · 797
A Spade a Spade
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
A gravekeeper by trade
burying the dead to stay alive
with a green thumb and *****
the unused earth oh how it strives!

Fat tubers and roots
green leaves with red veins
small vines sprouting fruits
even a small section for grains

The gravekeeper never goes hungry
his family never starves
he loves living in the country
and his plot of earth that he carves

One day two fresh dead
and a rat, maybe two scampered by
soon a sickness to be widespread
day by day how that multiplied!

More bodies into the earth
how did his garden shrink
he was crying and crying
this gravekeeper didn't know what to think!

Should he be happy for business
should he be sad for the loss
is he crying for his vegetables
or is he crying for the bodies that are tossed

Little by little did the green become stone
his loved ones feast on a diet of worms
now he, a lonely gardener of bones
sits and watches as his world burns
Nov 2018 · 158
No Promises
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
The cold usurped the trees
I watch their children fall
filling up the wet street
winter forestalled with a cask
                                             of alcohol

watch as the tip of his tongue
touches the roof of his mouth
whips down and spouts out
the reasons why we have
                                         this drought

but its raining now
maybe something will grow
or a sea of spit
with rolling waves
                              will overflow

I told her I would try
to rekindle with him
stuck in cabin's twilight
sewing sinews of this
                         phantom limb

how does one talk
before they think
does he hear the words
that dribble into his
                               warm drink

then ascends as steam
back into that cavernous nose
to permeate his brain
and slowly seeps into
                             tattered clothes

this "vacation" will be over
but not soon enough
a couple more days
all I have to do is
                         avoid fisticuffs

no promises.
Nov 2018 · 125
Guillotine
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
Hunched over in this Bastille dwelling
cobbling out words stitching to a page
day after ----------------------------------                              
            day after ------------------------              
                        day after--------------
                                      day ------












The last bottle of Bordeaux Rouge shatters
and pools on the ***** floor, frantically I
bow down and touch lips to dirt and wine
**** until my sore cheeks flush with blood
stumble back to              the makers bench
carefully carve                  initials marking
days gone by and          by days gone by
at night I lay my head upon the guillotine
hoping to wake drenched in red in a basket
this self revolution will some day pass
Nov 2018 · 203
Atropos
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
On a thread how I hang
from the finger's sinew
my name nothing but slang
hidden in your menu

Oh master, oh master
how I sing your keen name
your tongue leaves court plaster
as your eyes rip and maim

I shout into the wind
and watch the words float by
perverse ears that rescind
a love that's gone awry

from your aloof finger
how my bruising neck sways
how my yearning lingers
legs will not turn away

Your want my desire
my desire your bliss
your bliss to set fire
I, those flaming red lips

I wish I could conjure
philters for you to drink
my concoction is but
poison turned to black ink

Soon the master will sell
their useless ****, a *****
I will answer your belle
until the ocean waives

Rolling salt filling lungs
in the abyss I lay
left for the fishes tongues
Atropos’s shear’s prey
Nov 2018 · 1.2k
Make Haste
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
Silky cocoon of routine leaves
this metamorphosis stagnating
how the discomfort thieves
the fear of change isolating

The struggle lies in the escape
with no energy left to attempt
monotonous days left to drape
as if life holds me in contempt

Hanging on this lonely branch
sometimes I pray just to fall
monotonous routine's avalanche 
creates days so banal

And then a child finds the lonely silk
plucks carefully into a glass jar
Oh how the curiosity of their ilk
creates this warm inner spar

A want to escape
a need to taste 
freedom's luscious grapes
make haste happiness, 
make haste.
Nov 2018 · 310
Gorgon's Masonry
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
The gorgon's masonry casting châteaus
for the rich
turning hearts to pompous narcissist

once of legends and myths
has arisen once again
blue light and endless scroll

the gorgon's masonry casting shadows
for the everyman
turning hearts to pompous narcissist
Nov 2018 · 209
Milk and Honey
Brandon Conway Nov 2018
Luminous flame with its gossamer glow
orange hue reflects off thy pure marble
blue fractal veins, the calm river I trek
relish thy flesh planting lips on carpal

under thy luster thy hypnotic spell
an ephemeral release from daily ****

Garden of Eden, oh how do I feast
only if I could be thy true Adam
but I am an Adam for all sweet Eves
the serpent hissing to bite the apple

Coiled scales swaddling flesh, whispering
tongue in thy ear, toothsome words, promising

milk and honey.
Oct 2018 · 197
Hourglass
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Happiness is but sand in a hourglass
all the memories sit at the bottom of the pit
ones left to look upon in remembrance

waiting
waitin
waiti
wait
wai
wa
w
wa
wai
wait
waiti
waitin
wai­ting
..............
...........
........
.....
..

to be turned over again
Oct 2018 · 869
The Metallic Garden
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
When I first passed the gates
into the metallic garden
stamping out seeds
                      for the junkyard
with its infinite cardiac output

I gazed upon the eyes of the creatures
that inhabited this oily soil
                            of steel and chemicals
all I saw was a cry for help
to escape
          to be away
                just one day
they cry, just one day

I got caught in the claws
and it scratched
                       and scratched
the wounds heal but the scars stay

I have become a trapped animal
                                     with eyes of dismay

There's little chance of escape
I can dream
           I can pray
one day, I echo
               one day

Now I am just taxidermy
for this godforsaken industry
and they call this
quality.
Oct 2018 · 126
X____________
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Sleeping is a contract
I keep signing
Waking is a contract
I keep breaking
I just want what
Kumbhakarna had
nidravatvam
six months isn't much
so I can sleep this
sickness away.
Oct 2018 · 212
A New Day
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Gold melts away
the dark blanket
as if a sign to start
anew

be ambitious
he whispers

no
you answer back

and slowly block the
gold penetrating through the window
with your blanket of doubt
Oct 2018 · 207
Driving to Work
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Rising sun reflects
beaming straight into my eyes
sunglasses missing
Oct 2018 · 176
Priest Hole
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
My heart paces in an abandoned cage
that still holds the smell of lions ****
and human decay

They took my house from me
and He
abandoned me and the early seed

Oh how
love loses to profession

and I lost both
for something that may be
traced back to my blood
even though
I have never even been in a Synagogue
or prayed

It doesn't matter to the ones in
crisp black, green, and grey

The word I hear
from the birds tweet
animals are being imported
from Germany

This cage is not an idea home
but it has kept me safe
but now
I am truly alone
due to what they think is my faith

I must survive
for the little one inside
otherwise
this would be the end.
Oct 2018 · 95
Espada de Matar Toros
Brandon Conway Oct 2018

A muleta drapes over my chest
the ripples pass through with the wind
while we dance around this dusty plaza de toros
eyes fixated
thinking you can gore mon coeur
ptui
I only give you the illusion of control
but in the end
it will be my estoc tongue that
pierces your flesh
between the shoulders
with crimson words
I am no novillero
cornada's in the past only strengthen the future
a porta gayola posed and ready
awaiting that ferocious charge
Oct 2018 · 218
"I was Born in a Tent"
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Old man with his Atacama tongue
dusting off stories of his youth
forty-nine knock outs he spattered out
heavy weight champion travelin' the world
stories of tribes auctioning off slaves
that they couldn't sell
that became that nights meal
pieces in a stew
how it could make a man cry and cry
oiling up trees so the lions
slide right off
tent births and baseball cards
a preacher neighbor who beat a woman
then had his teeth knock out
by the holy word
then points out his bird houses
only to dive deep into something else

"Old man" says I,
"I have to return to work
but next time I will save
your stop for last. There's
an oasis in that head of yours
and I tend to bask in it."
Oct 2018 · 158
Hit and Run
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Moon beaming through clouds
white light pierces fog, grows closer
tail light flees the scene
Oct 2018 · 206
Est-ce la fin ?
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Our arms lock and embrace
I stare at your lovely face
the reflection in your eye
shows another guy
that's standing behind
me.

Dagger stabbing, blade twisting
back bleeding, stomach turning
eyes blurry, ears ringing
mouth drying, brain denying.

Am I just your stability?
Oct 2018 · 790
Death in the Afternoon
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
The devil sits at its zenith
****’s warmth embracing
a bead of sweat escapes
both the man and the beast
locked and circling
waiting
waiting
waiting
until one leaves alive
both man and beast
want to show their bravado
one charges
one waves and dodges
both smell death’s breath
a crimson river starts to flow
and the dance is repeated
until one sits on Charon's boat
or is pulled by death’s horses
but in this dance
both have tripped and fallen
death is overjoyed in the afternoon
Oct 2018 · 3.2k
Fallen Angel
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Smoke signals from a silent cigarette
float to the heavens and linger
in the mucky conscience of regret
resting on the temple, my forefinger

Thumb lifted to expose
a metaphorical gun
countenance in prose
staring at a midnight sun

When will that monster again ****
another that I love,
Why did I so feel
like I could best the powers from above

I created a ghastly Adam
and I dare not create an innocent Eve
my future I cannot fathom
all time left to grieve

I will chase this gruesome snake
no matter where it slithers
across ****'s frozen lake
this calamity summons me hither

My final and only ambition
is to cast a life to silence
his and my cognition
will clash and bite in violence

I created a monster
and a monster created me
Madness! How it so saunters
and wails as if a banshee

Look over on the frozen horizon
a horrid shadow stalks
I, a fire stealing Titan
will march out to solve this paradox
Oct 2018 · 1.6k
Bachelor Party
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
My countenance
made love with the harsh earth
she left me
bruised
confused
and bloodied
with a couple days
plucked out of my memory
thank whoever is above
for the few buddies
that pulled me to the
corner with a flashlight
bag of cold ice
shoulder rubs
and words of advice
I got back in the ring
ready for to resume the fight
I learned that night that
you can't beat Gaia
but that you could endure
a few rounds.

Just kidding,
I was knocked out
during the first round.
Oct 2018 · 241
Your Last Poem
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
This is a haiku
about my last thought of you
it is just as short
Oct 2018 · 167
Flower Girl
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
A flower girl tried to sell me a flower
picked from my own garden
a thin starving guttersnipe dressed so dour
my seldom emphatic heart granted my pardon

I gave her a tenner for the red rose
and told her to "keep the change"
she, now the subject of my next poetic prose
about the girl who makes my heart feel strange
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Soaring over the idyllic fields of poet's day dreams
an opening exposes some endless blue
the sun cast's his golden rod
and waits while humming his bright tune

Suddenly submerged
for his bait we had chewed
turbulence drops yellow bags
and white fog blinds our view

The sun is toying with us
letting the line out farther and farther
the old sun and the sky
a departure within a departure

Finally the sun pulls the line
screaming, we steady then ascend
are we going higher now?
better make amends
                                 via amens

Look all the fog is gone
this isn't the suns pole
the light is fleeing and
this cabinet grows so cold

The air thins into non existence
yet somehow we can breath
in these celestial waters
watch as the earth takes her leave

Reeling faster now
how these stars pass by
what's beyond the celestial sphere
this fisherman sure is spry

Finally a golden gleam approaches
splash through the pearly gates
into the net of heaven
pietistic fingers embrace

An omniscient voice speaks
NOT AGAIN, ANOTHER USELESS CAN?
and he tossed this metal heap away
who do I eat and who do I romance

It's going to be a long journey home.
Oct 2018 · 338
Grasshopper
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Feast your eyes upon all the
                                       mangled
                                                twitching
                                                            bodi­es

trapped in the grills of fat and
                                                        brown
                                                              pa­ckage
                                                           ­         trucks

so far away from the idyllic blades of
                                                                ­ green
                                                                ­        and
                                                                ­           sun

crossing ***-hole asphalted rivers where
                                                               alligators
                                                                ­        speed
                                                                ­            amuck

We all get hurt crossing seemingly
                                                       empty
                                                           perilous
                                                        ­           streets

and end up in some wolf-dressed-as-sheep
                                                                ­    machine's
                                                                ­               sharp
                                                                ­                     teeth

are we different from the insects
                                                 roaming
                                                              on­
                                                            inst­inct?

If only you could wiggle your body more to the side
but the alligator never slows and the wind is a bonafide
                                           bully.                                              
At least I can see whats ahead, might as well enjoy the ride.
Oct 2018 · 152
Time is but a Smudge
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Am I too early
or so so very late?
Time is but a smudge
of mixed acrylic paint.

My history, the canvas
and my pen a brush.
Time is but a smudge
dripping through my clutch.

Dreams blur into nightmares;
nightmares into day-time thoughts.
Time is but a smudge
of profits and loss.

When the end comes
my journal will be passed.
Time is but a smudge
that my children will grasp.

They will both read
of my love for them.
Time is but a smudge
in this infinite realm.

They will both know
how much I love them so.
Time is but a smudge
and if it weren't for them I would of let go.

Time is but a smudge
in an never ending orbit
time is but a smudge
and they have made it euphoric.
Oct 2018 · 687
Pickling
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
The quill's sodden ink evaporates
while this bell jar encapsulates
leaving these dreary words to permeate
only to rain back down and stagnate

this terrarium, my lonely estate
pickling eyes that spate
people peer through the glass only to deprecate
while I slowly start to acclimate

two horizons squint until light dissipates
allowing the darkness to overtake
monsters crawl out to dilapidate
snarls and growls devastate

this is fate this is fate this is fate this is fate
is it too late is it too late is it too late is it too late
echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate echos verberate
this is fate and it is too late these echos verberate and I ruminate
I ruminate and ruminate and ruminate and ruminate

with a languid gait
a countenance set straight
while I desperately try to create
a happy blissful sunny green free state

it's not too late it's not too late it's not too late
meditate meditate meditate meditate
don't let the glass alienate
pick up the hammer and swing
                                                       till the glass B    E      K
                                                ­                                R    A      S.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

Floating brazier spews electric amber waves
as a setting sun radiates on the ceiling
a shadow of a ship coquettishly sways
while in the center charybdis begins swilling

another message, another missed call
another debt collector and his esurient talk
watch the ship begin to swirl, this scene so banal
amber feathered tawny eyed peacock

continues furtively to scroll her story and shoe shop
crowded room with a panel onstage
reality and fantasy evaporate and fall as a single raindrop
drown in the muck, don't know how to disengage

and to stay in the sway of fantasy.
Spent all day in a conference about chemicals. 10 hours. It was quite boring, but the setting was nice.
Sep 2018 · 1.3k
The Bell Jar Shattered
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Behind these eyes, insanity
a slow permeation of a voice
screaming truths and half truths

I just don’t want to listen
so I flood the head
just to drown the haunting

but it is ******* immortal
every night I send an eagle
to gnaw on the larynx

every morning it’s there to greet
disguised as a fictional friend
                  fiend. I meant fiend.

it’s kudzu it’s ******* kudzu
every day is a mid spring day
even in winters delicate palms

I spend the nights soaking in a bath
last night I let the water ******* tongue
soon it will feast on my lungs

I can go out like Plath
except my poems are bad
and my novel is only a paragraph

I will not
     let the inner
          demons win.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
"I am dying."

"Its hardly a cold."

"Will you fetch me a thermometer?"

"I will send for one, you Shakespearean."

"I am glad you can make jokes to a dying friend."

"Learn to hold your wine."

"You mean drink? Or what I am doing now?"

"Both."

"Will you still be my friend in the morning?"

"If you are alive."

"Good. I am dying you know?"

"You died a week ago and the week before that."

"It's real this time. You will not be happy in the morning."

"Why is that?"

"You will wake to a foul smell and realize that your mourning will be spent digging a hole."

"Oh, so like most mornings with you."

"You are a real pal. Pass the wine?"
Sep 2018 · 2.8k
Detroit
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

I visited the heavens today
all gods were absent
looked out the window
we were in the clouds

landed in Detroit
on a dreary day
why would it be any different?
this skeletal remain of a city

at least the bartender was great
but now I’m drunk wandering around
Detroit
hope I wake up in my hotel
Sep 2018 · 724
Incantations from a Siren
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

The ocean's wave rolls
and beats repeatedly
carving a way into the soul
of this precipice
foaming at the mouth

no, wait....

that's just your tongue
coated in a miasma of
a siren song
you ******* liar  

sunbathing on my pyre
the whole town now congregates around
with devil-red
containers of gasoline
while your devil-red
lips act the fire

Only the clever witches
survived the trials

the whole town now dances around
feasting on the lotus petals
that root in the palm of your hand

look at them move
locked in each others hands
chanting
"This will bring peace"
while they nod and agree

"Pour more gasoline"
escapes between those sharp teeth

happiness is a moveable feast
at least your eating
like a queen

go ahead and **** the marrow
out of these innocent bones
tomorrow I will be gone

once I thought of you as Ithaca
now realize that these
are Troy's stones

it's time to sail back home.
Sep 2018 · 1.9k
The Nature Fix
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Squalid off-white cube
fluorescent buzzing hue
water stained tiles
tribulation from digital files

dilapidated symbiote
invisible hungry parasite
optimism capsized in the abyss
tedium tongue french kiss

five hours a month
forest bathing in the sun
a cure they say
nature is a gateway

shambling down trails
languid gait sails
fractal patterns surround
tweets in background

head starts to clear
wondrous frontier
five hours a month
soaking in the sun

not enough time
to melt away grime
five hours a week
leaves a happier physique

summer sea breeze
rolling over unease
basking in the heat
leaving is so so bittersweet

return to human farm
pray for fire alarm
nature is a gateway
natures my getaway
Sep 2018 · 1.2k
Yorick’s Skull
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Foot meets the metal of a cold shovel
with a sun beaming down
booted foot pushes the *****
into the soft and rooty ground

one mound of dirt
sweat forms above the brow
two mounds of dirt
salty bead slithers down
three mounds of dirt
tuned into the sounds
four mounds of dirt
birds chirp all around

stopped by a thick root
extra force must be used
give that shovel a pogo of boots
and we are at the fifth mound

six and seven are easy
as the hole starts to round
eight nine ten eleven twelve
a tomb has been found

carried your sheet covered corpse
laid you in the hole
cover you with what was uncovered
creating a man made knoll

Six years of memories
laid underneath this red dirt
many years missing
that time gone subvert
Sep 2018 · 540
All Dogs Go to Heaven
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
You get the shovel
I’ll dig the hole
we’ll bury her together
off to heaven I suppose
or wherever dogs go
you go and grieve
I’ll let the little one know
in a little bit
just expect company
RIP June 9/19/2018
Sep 2018 · 187
Most Requested Feature
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
it's our most requested feature
aka
it's our most commonly ignored request
aka
give us more money
aka
then we will maybe work on what y'all suggest
Sep 2018 · 1.3k
A Poem About the Moon
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
My god, your beauty is bright
I can see the halo radiating
though the clouds at night
my heart hastily pulsating

whenever we're in the same room
my eyes only gravitate towards you
I recognize that lovely ambrosial perfume
when you glance, my cheeks take a different hue

I have immortalized you through my poems
but I rather spend this mortal life
basking in your lissome arms
a drop of you cures all my strife

I want you in the flesh instead of dreams
but any thought of you is okay by me
look how the moon thinly beams
highlighting my idiosyncrasy

You move my pen, dear
and you don't even know it
to you I owe this writing career
and I am scared that I might blow it
Sep 2018 · 284
It's Been a Year
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

The morning peaks through your pristine blinds
                                         already up, dressed and ready
The morning trespasses on my dusty mind
                              snooze, turn away and rest unsteady

Lunch break, out with your friends (and him)
                                      stories you tell, is he listening? (he is)
lunch break, alone still and again
                                      .....................­..........reminiscing

Night has blanketed you with Argus' eyes
                            cuddled close, watching and kissing
night has blacked out with my stammering cries
                            in bed, alone, shivering and missing
Sep 2018 · 725
Bookend(s)
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
I grew up between bookends
with the holy word held between
one fell off the shelf with no amends
now the shelf is filled with words unseen

So I read of other options
now I question the thread
of these fairy tale adoptions
which have been so deeply embedded

Christian school, weekly church, prayers before bed
my childhood filled with these epic tales
of a guy who died and then rose from the dead
and if you don't believe, well, see you in ****

They are good stories, some even great
but that's all they really are
to live by them is to live a life castrate
burning bush and a man inside a whale, a little bizarre

I am not mad I grew up this way,
but now I live a life of questioning
of what's beyond the pearly gates
without all of the one sided lecturing
Sep 2018 · 1.4k
Diary from the Engrish Front
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

September 16th 2018 1:34 pm

The war started between the illegible instructions and chunks of wood. I decided to enlist, well, more like volunteered. I arrived at the camp today and met a few loose screws. They don’t have time to train us, we are being shipped out as I write this in my journal.
I hope to god I survive this thing so I can see her face at the end. She will be ecstatic to see me alive, I know she has her doubts. We can not let the engrish win.

September 16th 2018 3:17 pm

We have arrived to our camp. It’s a pigsty. Styrofoam specks cover the yard like snow and cardboard chunks are blown to bits just over the trenches. No time to settle in. Just enough to down a cup of dirt coffee before we charge in. It’s been storming all day, everything is covered in mud.

September 16th 2018 3:56 pm

Stage one has been complete. We have a wall up. This should help stabilize anything that comes after us. It was no easy task and we have been told this was the easiest part.

September 16th 2018 4:32 pm

The foundation has been completed. There were casualties. Henry, a brave man, lost a hand and had to be evacuated. We can hold them back if our aim is true. I hope there are angels watching above.

September 16th 2018 4:33 pm

There are no angels watching, only devils in the disguise of pictures with the number on the wrong side and the finished side flipped around. The foundation had to come down. Back at square one.

September 16th 2018 5:56 pm

The foundation has been rebuilt. Correctly, I hope. More men have been lost. I know this is dark, but one had a flask on his body that hasn’t been emptied. It is now emptied.

September 16th 2018 6:29 pm

The wheels have finally been installed. We are now mobile! Thank god. We can now trek over anything that gets in our way. It’s still pouring rain. I wish I could find another flask.

September 16th 2018 6:53 pm

Hooks and roll and top have all been fitted and examined over. We may have done something right for once. There’s hope that we will win this thing after all.

September 16th 2018 8:48 pm

We stumbled onto a cache of cold ones. We lost sight of our goal for a while. We are back on track marching forward.

September 16th 2018 9:17 pm

The last wooden peg has been hammered in, the last ***** has been ******* and locked. This is it, it’s finally over. We won!

September 16th 2018 9:18 pm

“It’s about time” was my only reward.

It’s ok, I came out stronger than what I was. I have scars I can tell my kids about. The blisters from using hand tools and the knowledge on how to decipher Chinese disguised as English. Useful talents I’m sure.

September 16th 2018 9:20 pm

Finishing off that cache.
Today I put together a cabinet island.
Sep 2018 · 279
The Egotistical Hunter
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
I will slither my venomous tongue
into those tender ****** ears
until my intent is well and hung
after bottles wash away fears
my genteel words only a facade
to feed my carnal desire
my affable countenance only a fraud
to cross the threshold of your attire
tonight we will worship fermented grape
my little maenad
in ecstasy my hands follow the shape
  of your curves, driven mad
my charm
your curse
my arms
your hearse

when the sun shows his face
I'm but a ghost
your conscience defaced
my next egotistical boast
Sep 2018 · 335
Sometimes Pest are Right
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

Bottles of cheap bliss
drown out lugubrious sadness
replaced with bottles of ****
in this festering den of madness

at least there’s paradise in my poems
at least there’s a clean bed in my dreams
at least in those spaces I’m in your arms
at least I’m happy bathing in the moonbeam

surround by a fetid smell
with a lack of care for myself,
is my hunger even quelled
when there’s no food left on the shelf?

a roach skitters across a pile of clothes
my temporary friend that I confide in
he speaks, “Here is what I propose.
Stop thinking that you are a has been

get off your *** and clean this mess
unless you want more of my kin
stop ******* at the bottle is what I suggest
and have a little victory, a little win

you don’t have to live”

Squish

“Funny how you can survive a nuke
but not my tiny bare foot,
well you pest, there’s my rebuke
how’s it feel to be ground to soot?”

“What am I doing with my life?
Maybe the cockroach was right.”
Sep 2018 · 184
Shared Reflection
Sep 2018 · 351
Stories
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Stories of burning in the sun
fizzle out after a couple generations
Stories of salt filling our lungs
will outlast many civilizations

The sun burns quickly
like a brief moment of excitement
that wanes away while we search for
the next blazing hit

The sea pummels slowly
like a life of enduring and remiss
beating you down day after day wholly
until you sink into the abyss
Sep 2018 · 245
Kleos to Kónis
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Just because you now use your spear
as a walking stick, doesn't change
your past's sanguinary veneer
men, women, and children, your range.

All for us to sing of your κλέος,
the shades come back to haunt,
your glory, your fame, your albatross.
dreams of slit throats and screams daunt.

You have given up bloodshed,
we no longer sing your praises,
now you can finally rest your head,
and the enemy thanks you for your hiatus.
Next page