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Jan 31 · 25
random thoughts today
Kurt Brushé Jan 31
If you’ve betrayed your own self-created purpose and ideation for living in the world, then at what point do you admit your own defeat? Maybe some holes can’t be climbed out of, and maybe whatever cosmic relevance karma may or may not have, can be a true judge of intention and actions. An eye for an eye. A perpetually selfish person will eventually lose everyone around them, and in a way, that’s a real and proven example of a karmic phenomenon. Obviously it doesn’t always apply, but narcissism generally tends to drive others away -- so either the narcissist has to change, or the people remain in an unhappy state of relationship with someone that will always care more about themselves than them, or of course, they choose to leave for their own sake. And the funny thing about selfishness, is that the selfish person will tend to blame those people for leaving. “You were supposed to be there for me!” But really, they needed to make a change to prevent such a cold and lonely reality for themselves. So then the question becomes: when is it too late to change? I think it’s different for every person in every scenario, but ultimately I think you should feel it deep down, when you know it’s too late and you’ve dug this crater too deep. And then what…? Life becomes somewhat: post-apocalyptic. Your care and concern begins to dwindle, you’re less afraid -- because fear is the prospect of losing something you don’t want to lose, but if you’ve lost almost all of it, fear has little place in life. It makes you more abrasive, less-forgiving, more willing to say whatever to whoever. This place is dark and not fit for anyone really, but ironically it can be a very comforting place. Not caring and not being afraid is a big weight off of the shoulders, and nothing feels as serious as it often is, reducing stress and depression. You might think you like it here, or even that you can go on to live a life in that state -- but that’s an even more unfulfilling expenditure than the one you were already in, and eventually guilt will eat you alive until you’re clawing at the past hoping you can make things better again, not be so selfish this time, find a lifestyle that’s great for you, you often find yourself wanting to go back to the place that you neglected so much when you were in it. And that’s often your answer. If you feel that way, then don’t neglect your present and just do everything you can to start climbing out of the crater; and maybe you won’t make it out, but climbing up it is a lot more fulfilling that wallowing alone at its bottom.
Jan 21 · 25
Kurt Brushé Jan 21
because you wanted every night to be like that
ran out of cash on the toll road
she made me try too hard
just waiting to see your answer
such abrasive cacophony
gonna go away and grow
a scruffy beard and maybe I’ll
learn a thing or two
about being loved.
Jan 11 · 20
Point of No Return
Kurt Brushé Jan 11


Jan 10 · 70
Kurt Brushé Jan 10
Have you ever lost a really close friend?
I did last night.
I think a lot of us do.
Cars all turn their right blinker on
as the left lane recedes.
I was the left lane last night,
but I’ve also been the right lane.
They’re equally painful.
The fires burn up all the oxygen,
until they’re gone.
But the warmth was life.
Dec 2019 · 44
Kurt Brushé Dec 2019
The trash can that is love,
heartbreak of you not taking it out.
How much garbage could you hold?
Before I just need to clean myself up.
Kurt Brushé Dec 2019
In this spacious piano keep,
of crowded faces and expansive noises:
there’s a dark haired girl.
She is bleeding from,
attention in every form.
It’s admirable, and keeping me
staring in her direction.
The walls are crimson red,
the clock tells no time,
but keeps the distance nice and ‘stranger’.
Her black jeans hug her perfect body.
And that unzipped leather jacket,
has a leash on my shivering eyes.
How would your voice sound?
What lovely words I’m sure it speaks.
So alluring I can almost feel it.
You’re a fireplace in the cold,
kept in a distant cabin that I don’t know.

Yet it fails.
It’s too cold.
It dips,
from my widow’s peak
It’s an alarm clock,
for a sleep that is too deep.

Can I help her?
As if clean needed a broom…
I’m a glaring off-put nothing.
Just nothing with a nothing stare.
But I hope you know, or at least
maybe you sense,
I think you are so utterly beautiful.
an old one
Kurt Brushé Dec 2019
Oh little thundercloud,
you rain so much.
There's an abundance of lightning,
so much pain
such a small thing
can contain.
Nov 2019 · 57
Typically Poison
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
The streaks of blonde,
down your smokey hair;
that’s been every color
at least once before.
You passed everything on.
Life in Victorian colors.
That titanium ring,
means as much
as the landfill it’s in.
Broken bottles are it’s epitaph.
Shadows are contagious;
your love is an illness.
I’ve passed it on,
and now it’s all gone.
An old one.
Nov 2019 · 20
No One Loves Me
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
I am the moss,
that rolling stones don’t gather.

I was supposed to stop thinking this way.

******* on every clean sleight,
I am everyone I hate.
Nov 2019 · 119
The Big Gloom
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
There’s a shadow looming over our heads,
its sickly hands yank your lifeless puppet.
We’ve done it all to ourselves.
Well-being has not been a currency,
and the gluttonous vacuum has contaminated the water.
You devil.
Advertising poisoned the well,
we constructed Titans of insecurity
from our desires.
You devil.
Men in suits combed their hair,
as they bought your mental state.
You devils.
Golems with golden M’s
fattened the world up.
And their red and yellow fists,
punched the people into addiction.
And they are so proud.
We speak out, we say so much.
We say so much. We do nothing.
You devils.
We replaced the moon with a giant,
and his shadow barricades the sun.
This is our forever total eclipse;
impervious to pills impervious to reason.
You devil.
Humanity depressed the world.
And the last cannon fodder
we have in this losing catatonic war,
is the fleeting blast of empathy.
You devil.
Nov 2019 · 46
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
Wait just one minute so I can breathe…
let me calm the insides that I need,
give me just one glass of cold water
to wash away all the burning feelings.
Play me a sweet lullaby on the guitar
that’ll put the sweetest pictures of us
in my slowly forgetting head.
Pluck the strings and send the vibrations,
let them course up and down my body
as they slowly paint her red hair,
flowing down her ears and to her back.
And as an ambient drone rises
in the otherwise barren background --
it begins to craft her large beautiful eyes.
Taking sticks and bricks to contour
her eyelids to the black eye-liner she always has.
The sounds then take dravites
and melt them into the color of her eyes.
Pouring them in softly.
Then subtle drums rise from the shadows,
building a slow and steady rhythm.
As they hit, silk descends from heaven
and slowly pours in her fair skin.
Then one brief cymbal crash
steals a pomegranate from hell,
straight out of Persephone’s hands
and it fills in her seductive lips.
Polished only by the finest sounds
the image comes to fruition
in my love longing brain.
And the sky turns from blue to black.
Just give me one more minute
to admire her beauty for the last time.
Give me one more drink,
so I can just feel for the last time.
Looking up at the stars, they enchant me.
And even with tumultuous grey clouds
closing in on all those drops of milk --
their light fills me with the last of life.
And then a crash as the clouds
take over the unsuspecting night-sky.
Rain begins to fall
with thunder and lightning following suit.
I close my eyes as tight as I can,
to see the painting made for me.
Her, and all of her beauty
as if I was looking right at it again.
And in that one moment of solace,
the storm becomes adamant,
the music drops into an abrasive frenzy.
The drums slam down hard and fast,
the ambient drones have grown to noisy walls.
The melodies begin to paint next to her,
they grab dirt and mud
from the deepest parts of the earth,
and mold them down into curls.
I realize they’re painting me now.
Constructing a fabrication of my hair,
out of such things.
The guitar rises and roars now,
even overbearing the other aggressive sounds.
I can feel the wind now, agitated by some God.
I’m pushed back and down by it’s force,
and despite it, despite the harsh rain --
I keep my eyes imprisoned.
The sounds get even louder
and the drum’s rhythm changes
to be even more overwhelming.
As they take white phosphorus,
and pour it down on this cosmic canvas.
It burns as it lands
slowly forming my pale skin.
The wind then blows me back further,
with the music and thunder
deafening me.
I tried to hold my ground
despite this overwhelming presence.
As I then saw the sounds
grinding up the deepest envy
for them to pour into what would be my eyes.
But just then, before they finished.
Lightning struck down right on top of my head.
An explosion followed,
so loud that it overcame all the harsh sounds
this reality was now giving me.
The painting was washed away with the rain.
And the sounds slowly softened,
as the drums and ambient drones faded out.
The guitar dissolved into to a lovely melody.
The rain was stopping,
with the thunder and wind making its acquaintance.
The skies cleared into the peaceful night,
lit up by the stars, the moon, and the embers
of what was left of mother nature’s wrath.
I laid there,
completely physically unscathed.
But inside, I was destroyed forever.
I slowly worked my way to a weak stand,
stumbling over from the emotion.
Looking left to see nothing,
and right to a rundown dysfunctional car.
“One more minute.” I whispered under my breath.
I closed my eyes one last time,
to see if there was anything left.
I turned my neck up to the sky,
and took a deep-breath.
As I exhaled, I realized:
there was nothing but black left.
Until I opened my eyes
to be directly staring at the moon.
All the stars were gone,
the embers went out.
This wreckage was only lit
by that celestial body.
It was just the moon in the sky,
and just me looking at it.
I proceeded to walk towards the car.
Nov 2019 · 131
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
Unfurling like a lotus flower
in elegant bloom.
You're overflowing with
beauty, success, and happiness.
Drink at those parties,
until your lips are pressing on his.
Now that my night sky
has eroded for your new dawn --
you live under the sun
and the rays grow your stem,
expanding your petals.
I long for a midnight sky,
that we'll never see again.
Nov 2019 · 163
Scary Clown
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
There’s a scary clown
at the foot of my bed.
Grinning wide
in it’s confident ambiguity.
It tells me the blanket covering me,
will leave me soon.
As it’s grin widens,
I realize it’s scarier
than anything real.
Nov 2019 · 50
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
Persistence; a lotus in bloom.
Promises like shoelaces,
mild imperfections,
in the knots you tied.
Memories like candy,
sweet and brief,
yet bad in the end.
Aching hearts,
they look like twins.
Both on escalators,
one going up
and one going
Nov 2019 · 425
Kurt Brushé Nov 2019
My illness has become my blood
pain morphed into vitality.
I bleed laughter.
I am the one black cloud
in your shining blue sky.
And I will rain.
Indiscriminate chaos starter,
tell the world I am its martyr.

— The End —