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Jun 2018 · 357
About You
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The secret lives that we live
The poems that I write
You have no idea
Not that they are about you
Except this one
And a couple more
Ok, maybe a few.
Jun 2018 · 779
Causality of Immortality
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
A handful of dust, immortality
A portrait to age, immorality
A hungry lust doth consume, apathy
A conscience driven mad, insanity
Narcissistic soul buried, casualty
The capturing of youth, causality
Jun 2018 · 572
There's a Message There
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
fulfill      painful
unify      placebo
cultivate      shiv
kind         abjure
Jun 2018 · 658
00100100
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
I don't work for a tangible currency
I slave for digital binary
01101000 01100101 01101100 01110000
While I scribble poetry
Emptying my personal winery
Jun 2018 · 717
Necromancy
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Tonight we raised the dead
In the morning buried it
Under the pillow of your bed
Never to be resurrected again
Jun 2018 · 439
ἀμφορεύς
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
if I could                     forever                  be turned to
      art                              immortalize            ­                    me in
   ceramic.                                my story                                       have it
  submerged                      at the bottom                          of the sea.
    forever                       eroding                   ­         waiting
to be discovered and studied. Forever capturing the minds
of the historians the poets the dreamers and the ones
filled with curiosity. Have my painted life chipped
away shielded by salt and grime. Leave them
questioning and wondering filling in
the missing specks of my life.
Let them display me on
a pedestal left
to inspire.
Formatting on this one breaks on a small mobile screen
Jun 2018 · 384
μόνος
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Do you remember when we were fearless
I would jump in the lake
Swim shoes lead to a shirt to not even swimming
Do you remember when we would go to concerts and I would body surf
Back row to ear plugs now we never go
Remember when we were sociable
I would have friends and conversate
Phone calls to text messages to not even talking

Do you remember when things went wrong?
Jun 2018 · 444
Shakey Sleep
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
I sleep betwixt and
Between a coarse noose
and a shakey stool
Jun 2018 · 640
Gaius Cassius
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
How thin must Cassius be
For Caesar to not trust?
He had good reason not to for
A dagger he did ******.

But intentions unbeknownst to he
Just eyes a gossamer frame.
With an ambitious hunger
To keep crown from being proclaimed.
  
For in the Tiber Caesar did flounder
As if he were the archaic Anchises.
A yelp for help for Gaius Cassius
To save him from this crisis.

And he as Aeneas,their great ancestor
Lifted that mortal Julius upon his shoulder.
Waded through the angry flood
And dropped him down like a boulder.

How could you not trust
A man that saved your life?
Doing something so careless
Maybe deserves the ambitious knife.

Et tu, plebeian?
Jun 2018 · 603
A Truce to Meat
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Mothers garden adorned with fleshy fruit
Thus I plucked and ****** at the jocund juice
Branches speckled with luscious loot
A taste so sweet, I propose a tantalizing truce
Immortalize me with nourishing nectar
Keep my belly from famished fallicies
No longer a fleshy comestible collector
For godly ambrosia has mended moralities
Jun 2018 · 276
ποίημα
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
When can you call yourself a poet?
When you write down a word?
When do you let yourself know it?
When you are finaly heard?

When can you call yourself a poet?
When you get a like or a love?
When do you show it?
When your confident, sort of?

When can you call yourself a poet?
When you get a sunshine?
When do you let other people know it?
When you reach a headline?

When do you call yourself a poet?
When you are published?
When do you flaunt it?
When you are considered established?

No.

You know when to call yourself a poet.

When your hands are always moving
When your writing about even the kitchen sink
When your mind is always turning
When the white becomes stained with ink.
Jun 2018 · 510
Kudzu
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The garden would not take root
Hardly a **** could flourish
No matter how much water absorbed
This muddy field left malnourished

Something was amiss in this mucky space
Ennui entwined climbing up the spine
Hippocampus left asphyxiated
The kudzu of the mind

Nothing but an entanglement of
Thought and emotion
Strangling the heart
In this confusing ocean
Jun 2018 · 528
Betwixt and Between
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Never aim too high
Never aim too low
Betwixt and between
Lies beautiful poetry

For the heat of the sun melts
The salt of the sea corrodes
Betwixt and between
The stories unfold

The souls combust
The spirits submerge
Betwixt and between
Our words emerge
Jun 2018 · 622
Waxwing
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
True love is:
                  A waxwing bird feeding
                  A cuckoo who was left in her nest
                  The starving cuckoo is pleading
                  The waxwing is doing her best.
Jun 2018 · 283
About Me
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Wandering this dark forest with no guide
Figuring out the labyrinth of the my feeble mind
Evading the sun for melted wax leads to a salty tide
To rejoin the stars so I too can shine
Jun 2018 · 340
Sunshine
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
All I want is some sunshine
But I was not ready
Maybe if I drink this moonshine
My words will become heady.
Jun 2018 · 547
Phaethon
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Hello father Poetry
These kids are always insisting
Their words are incendiary
"His father is nonexisting."

Mother speaks your name
She sings your praise
Tells me you're the god of flame
Which has left my heart agaze.

So I come to ask, father
For some proof of our bloodline
I don't want to bother
I just need something, a sign.

"Hello little one, 'tis true
I will grant you validation
One that I can't undo
Let this be proof of our relation."

"O' father how giddy my viens
A cure to this disparage
Can I take the reins?
Let me steer the carriage."

"Not even Zeus can control
This golden chariot drawn by steeds.
Only the dark horizon I can patrol
But one promise that I can't break was agreed.

Take care now and heed this warning.
Take a firm grip and don't let the reins slip
You are the bringer of morning
Sailing the horizon like a cosmic ship."

"Thank you father, this is all I will ask.
This will cauterize those words so forlorn
And bring sunshine for all to bask
Now watch me with this gold I adorn."

So off I went with sunshine in tow
O' how this sunshine was a'glow
Look at the burning horizon how the fire river did flow
The horses bucked, a grip loosed a fate my father did know.

Nothing I could do but dive down
Setting fire to Africa's lush vegetation
Scorching the lands turning green to brown
A lightning bolt struck, for I caused this ruination.

Now I sleep among the wine dark sea
Epitaph that reads:
"Here Phaethon lies who in the sun-god's chariot fared.
And though greatly he failed, more greatly he dared."
Jun 2018 · 491
Sermons
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The preacher, the politician both the same
Nothing but swindlers spewing specious sermons
Noisome talk from their mouths came
Rapacious hands, oh what vermin!

I, as if compunctious for my fault
Left feeling only surfeited  
Fulsome factitious assault
I am left as the convicted
Jun 2018 · 347
The Life of a Poet's Candle
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
With just a click
                    the wick
absorbs the flame.

A gossamer light
                      that ignites
into a beacon of warmth.

A temple blessed
                       A mess
My own desk.

Wax starts to melt
                       And pelt
Into the ocean of its own creation.

A flame so soothing
                     Hand moving
Page a field of snow.

Enough of this kitsch
                      Flipped switch
A flame confused and sputtering.

The fan spins and calms
                           Resting palm
A flame vanishes.
Jun 2018 · 608
Tartarus
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Celestial pilot
Cast down through midnight abyss
Accursed gates now home
Jun 2018 · 500
Hodgepodge
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Even lousy writing is terrific practice
Or so they say
I have been practicing
Painting ink on a page

All I can produce
Is sketchy scribble
Illegible and unintelligible
Words that I let dribble

Leaving the canvas blotched and stained
Maybe some will appreciate my thoughts
It is my medicine
From going insane.
Jun 2018 · 445
A Morning Echo
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The snooze button
My morning companion
Why wake early
When you can delay ennui
For just a moment longer
Ten minute dreams
That seem to last
A lifetime until
It's too late

Hurry to work
The chair you hate
Hurry to work
The screen that stares
Hurry to work
Where no one cares
Hurry to work
The sooner to despair

Surrounded by walls that blind
The morning star
Surrounded by people who
Worship cupidity
Maybe I do too
That's why I am here
Jun 2018 · 263
Prometheus
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Sometimes the whispers of the night
Are drowned out by the wailing of disaster
Hear the dolorous screams and smell the fright
Catch the story from the newscaster

All was lost aflamed
Lighting up the horizon
The devil left maimed
And a mother crying

An imbroglio of water and fire
Never seemed to placate
Home to only a smokey pyre
Left to vacate

A new sojourn
Hotel to hospital
A new adjourn
To suffer or a sacrificial angel
Jun 2018 · 525
Collimate
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
A relationship
          Is a lot like
       Collimating binoculars
             It’s time consuming
           It’s difficult
It’s about aligning
                      But in the end
       Often is left even more
Blurred.
I dropped my binoculars last night doing some backyard gazing. It has been knocked out of tune, to fix it is to adjust the objectives to the prism with the eyepiece so that the light beams are parallel. Confusing stuff. I tried and now the view is even worse.
Jun 2018 · 317
Bards and Ghost
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Do you ever sit and listen
     To the bards of daylight
Do you ever sit and listen
     To the ghosts of the night
They both share their poems
Just to a different hue
     Of life
Jun 2018 · 440
Sophia
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Signed and dated that pink vacation form
Slipped under that dark locked door
Standing in the hall watching
Shouted “You know she doesn’t work here anymore?”
Searched for someone with the key
Solution found and paper retrieved
Stated “Me standing there was fated.
Should you miss with not a soul knowing
Spells trouble, it could of been ugly
Saved you I did. I tell you its fate.”
Staring me down those blue eyes glimmered
“Sophia is my name.” left your lips.
Stammered back “My guardian angel, thank you.”
“See you around.” you said disappearing through the door
Softly whispering “If it's up to fate.”

Sloshing around in my head that lovey name
****** on the memory of your features
Scribbled down these intoxicated words
Stuck on that whisper “If it's fated.”
Stimulated I have never felt at this place
Searching always for that lovely face
Stars aligned on a late office night
Smile so lustrous so euphoric
Struck my ears with a voice so fine
“Seems as if fate has us in her grasp once again.”
She did, that beautiful fate, I will never forget
Sharing our stories
Swapping our laughs
Sobbing about ennui

Springing up with newfound courage
Stuttered “Do you want to go get lunch tomorrow?”
Started a new chapter in this book
Showing up to work now a new joy
Sitting in the office chair, usually in despair
Swiveling around, thinking of your name
Syllables echoing
Sweet Sophia.
Jun 2018 · 573
A Herculean Task
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
You’re impenetrable my little
Nemean lion
You have cauterized your skin my brittle
Lernaean hydra
Forever I'll chase my crippled
Ceryneian hind
Where ever you lay waste my graceful
Erymanthian boar

Even if you never come clean my *****
Augean stable
No matter how many you eat my hungry
Stymphalian bird
No matter your myth my covetous
Cretan bull
No matter how many you’ve ate my cannibalistic
Mare of Diomedes

Even if blood has to shed my bellicose
Belt of Hippolyta
I built this field for us to grow my starving
Cow of Geryon
I will hold your world up my poisoned
Golden apple of the Hesperides
I will travel to the depths of hell for you my frightening
Cerberus
I don't think this works so well, may need to expand on it.
Jun 2018 · 375
Sinis
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Two pines bent over, legs entangled to each
One weighed with anger the other bowed with shelter
A clashing of feelings both wanting the same peace
To save you from your demons, not to destroy and welter.

Anger lashes but you take no notice
Hidden refugee sheltered from the storm
Walls so consumed in fixing someone
That’s so consumed in breaking apart.
Still living in the same dwelling
With disconnected hearts.

Hell’s company attracts
Invisible flames melt wax
Plunged and lost contact
Splashed into a raging sea of orange packs
That sits inside a bottle made of glass
Bars to halfways
As time makes its pass

You’re an uncle now
Don’t you want to watch these roots grow?
You are just a speck of life in specks of time
In my children's mind
An uncle they hardly know.
Jun 2018 · 729
The Mulberry Tree
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
There was once a poet from long ago
Who stories told of transformations
I shall tell of one that you may not know
Pyramus and Thisbe who loved through a cracked foundation

Whose houses were connected, neighbors were they
Families ensnared in rivalry and outrage
Oh how did it so weigh
On these blind lovers left with lips to assuage!

A crack so small only a desperate lover could see
A whisper only could dance through to ease
Two star-crossed lovers crouching on hands and knees
Expressing words that warm and please

To bring to light
Their love they did agree
To meet late at night
By the white mulberry tree

Thisbe first to show and await did she
Until a loud rustle filled the air
Frightened she ran off and hid thee
So fast her veil escaped the grasp of her hair

A lioness fresh from feeding
Paraded on passing by,
She went sniffing and licking
Veil now red left under the midnight sky

Pyramus, with the white specked tree in view
Sees just an empty sheath
Just a mulberry tree under a blanket of moonlit blue
With a crimson soaked veil underneath

Thinking he lost his heart's desire
She the cure to eternal strife
Life now nothing but mire
Wishes to follow her in afterlife

A sword he did reveal
With both hands set and firm
Fell on this stinging steel
Left as food for the callous worms

Oh how his blood did gush
Painting white mulberries incarnadine
Thisbe returning in such a rush
For Pyramus she did pine

A lifeless corpse awaits for her
Under that maledict tree
Blood soaked veil she did incur
So she dropped to one knee

Life without him she hated
A breast she did beat
Cried to the gods, fated
His sword she did greet

Forbidden love changed white to red
The berries we have today
Ill fated lovers left dead
To embrace in rot and decay

Together on the pyre
Rivalry has come to end
Lovers cradled in fire
Ashes in one urn, together again.
Jun 2018 · 502
A Cure
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
As I mope around the swamps of my brain
I think of nature’s beautiful scenery
Stuck in a world where currency reigns
Littered with mankind's rapacious factitious imagery

Sat in a cube, walls off-white
Ceiling tiles, **** stained
Trapped in ennui's plight
Blue light keeping a soul maimed

But there's a cure
Just beyond these walls
5pm, till then I endure
Then I can answer Edens call
Stuck in the frozen depths of hell of off-white walls filled with a cubical garden. Not the garden I want to grow.
Jun 2018 · 226
Tower
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Loving
Excited
Joyful
Happy
Good
Smiling
Life
Frowning
Fine
Lying
Ennui
Melancholy
Forlorn
Death
Smiling
­Good
Happy
Joyful
Excited
Loved I hope.
Jun 2018 · 549
Skin and Bones
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
I walk by
"Here comes tiny"
My ears burn
"Wish I could wear those pants"
I hear the murmurs
"You're so skinny"
I hear the whispers
"Just skin and bones"
I should feel good, right?
"You should eat a burger"
I earned this long ago
"You're too bony"
I put the work in
"How about a bulk?"
But the reflection revolting
"I need to eat less"
Still a decade later
"I still need to lose more"
Why can't I just love my body
"I am such a disgust."
I struggled with weight issues as a kid till my senior year in high school when I finally decided to do something about it. This was in 2005. I still haven't learned to be comfortable in my body.
Jun 2018 · 466
Malum Persicum
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Fuzzy orb so small and sweet
      Plump succubus plucked by hand
      Orange pink and yellow treat
      To fulfill a hungers toothsome demand  
                          
Demeter's gift, O' how ripe
      Put the flesh between my teeth
      Ears delighted with phoebe's pipe
      Lounged lazily listening in edens wreath

Juice streaming down my face
       Junes comfort, worth more than gold
       Sleep coming to make its dreamy embrace
       Hammock sway, as I slowly cross the threshold
Nothing like laying in the hammock, book in hand with a sweet treat, letting mothers poets drift you off to a slumber.
Jun 2018 · 195
Goodbye Summer
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Fall looming embraced
Implanted dagger left dead
Making green leaves red
Just trying a haiku
Jun 2018 · 778
Panoptes
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
These celestial strings pull
Through a vessel of silence
100 eyes
Watching
Staring
Peering
Judging
Guarding
Shrouding clouds on the inside
These emotions I can't get out
Giant slayer I must be
To set my spirit free
To live a life of happiness
For eternity
There is something inside me that keeps me from verbally expressing myself with other people. A problem that has been with me since I could talk. Its time to slay the guardian and to set my soul free.
Jun 2018 · 495
Nessus
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
No moon showing her lustrous wonder
No stars set ablaze
Only clouds sounding of thunder
Plunging rain greeting my gaze

Drops tasting of flame and damnation
Through a gap a gossamer star palpitates
Lonely and lost in its constellation
Only dolorous moans encapsulate
  
Gasping at fetid air
Face gurgling above scalding blood
Phlegethon, river of despair
My flesh becomes the mud

A figure appears over the precipice
A living body one that is whole
A lost man seems not necessitous
None that can help this tortured soul

A half horse is with he
Bow strung aimed at me
Risen higher than I should be
Arrow loosen my flesh stings

Awaken in sweat, four walls surrounding
A guilty conscience stewed this dream
Enclosed in darkness, alone, wailing
Recurring... haunting... blaspheme...
Jun 2018 · 715
Venus
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Oh luminous blue
First laid eyes upon you
Just above the treeline
On a warm spring night
Caught in your gossamer sight
A beauty to rival the amaranthine flower
I will be your Adonis
If you will be my everything.
6/7/2018 I laid eye upon Venus for the first time and connected in body and soul to her.
Jun 2018 · 303
Pothos
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
This heart ’twas plucked
                                 and tossed
A young boy stranded
                                 and lost
Laid in a fresh dug bed
Contemplating the blanket of dirt
Sacrificing this mortal coil
                                   to the worms
She found me there
  That coy mistress
                                    She whispered
Her voice the medicine to cleanse
Left as a reminder,
                       Stitched
Left to stories in thy head
A cycle that never ends
These gossamer sinews will not hold
To a finger that pokes
To a hand that grips
The flesh, how it rips
Left exposed
A dark nothingness
Lay thy hand on thine chest
Do you feel a beat?
It doesn’t exist
An empty field
Left for the crows
A seed was planted
How could it grow?
Water from thine eyes
And a hand to hold
In that field of brown
A little green
          Shows
Jun 2018 · 1.4k
Ruggieri’s Toothsome Skull
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
The deliverance of life echoed into that of pounding death
This frozen tower metamorphosing into a coffin sealed and fated
That gorgon’s gaze did I meet and uttered not a breath
Lost in those frightened eyes, thoughts left me sedated

“You stare so... Father, what is it?”

There I sat, day circling into night
By the dawn light through a reflection
I caught through their tragic sight
Left me gnawing at my hands, objection

“You put this wretched flesh upon us and now you may strip it off!”


Calmed my soul and silence we sat, another moon waxing

“Father, why don’t you help me?”

Left your lips while your languid soul seeps
Blind now with no words to offer
One by one perished but never did I weep
In the end
Hunger proved more powerful than grief.
How do I make text bold?
Jun 2018 · 404
Narcissism
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
Mothers warmth peered over the precipice
Her halo radiating with life
Projecting her color over the lush meadow
Engulfing everything in sight
How angelic, even the flora cry
An ocean blanket of blue and white
On the hillside your scapose body resides
Weighed down by blissful dew
Tipping over to one side.

Admiring that stream lazily flowing by.
Admiring that stream, what is identified?
Admiring that stream lazily flowing by.

Perfection staring, a gaze that seized
Cornas locked eternally
A beauty never before seen
Afraid to break sight, fear of ambrosia running away
Forever you stare
Forever you stare
Forever you stare
Never to look away
Left starving
Left withering
Left to decay
Left as an echo
Never to chase
Left as an echo
Never to embrace
Left as an echo
Your coupe de grace
Jun 2018 · 259
Headlights
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
_                                 _
Moonlight           Sonata­
Thunderstorm    Submerged
Windshield          Blurred
Stoplight                  B
                               L
                           I
                                    N
        ­                                       K
                        ­                    I
                                           ­  N
                                                     G
Chaos                   Swept
Wheels                          S
                                          p
                   ­                           i
                                            r
                              g        a
                          n      l
                               i
         WorldsC­ollide
Passenger        Drowning
Heaven             Bound
Sirens               SCREECHING
Time                 Lapses
Memory            Haunts
Voice                 Ascended
Why     ­              Not
                  Me?
A picture of a car crash.

Formatting is off due to the limitations of the editor. Trying to bold and italics certain words causes this to save improperly. ******.

— The End —