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Red Brush Jun 2018
Can I be truly happy?
Strange it feels, that ask.
Stranger still, I can't seem to see -
A face beneath my mask.
Red Brush Jul 2018
I dreamed today for a little while
Of having love, and sharing her smile.
I chided swift my heart then,
Such things are not within my ken.
Why dream a dream to hurt once more,
When love has much to answer for.
Red Brush Jun 2018
Mourners of truth, now hashtag your pain.
Retweet and like, righteous fury appease.
Protests are trending, do not apathy feign.
Fight and resist, till the next Marvel release.
Red Brush Dec 2018
Your tears, love, I'll trade you
For my smiles, if you permit.
I'll now and forever let you
Break my heart, if you keep it.
Red Brush Oct 2018
My father was a farmer.
He sowed the seeds of dreams
He could never have in me.
He cared for them, and me,
But more for me, I knew.

He waited for the harvest
That one day he would
Watch me reap, with pride;
Pleased that he waited,
Pleased that he cared for them
And for me, but more for me.

He would watch
That crop of dreams heap.
I watched today,
And only saw my father weep.
Red Brush Feb 2019
Hope, more than a prayer,
Is believing life must bear
A promise of joy till end,
So we may to morrow, tend.
Red Brush Nov 2018
The horizon calls me home
I walk alone to it, silent.
My feet swollen yet stubborn
Take me true to my home.
Am I a knight of penance, or -
A pawn for ill fates to vent?
I'll never know, I know, but still
I walk to that light - my end.
Red Brush Aug 2018
Innocence unappreciated
Left; it wasn't mine to keep.
Never would I ever be sated;
Knowing just made me weep.
Red Brush Jan 2019
It's quite strange but nice
How it's odd and precise.

You can gun with a gun,
And a run can long run.

And an 'S' can turn laughter
To nothing short of slaughter.

If you're hot, they will drool
But be warm, and stay cool.

Head off with your head up
Face it head on, so heads up!

It is a deep and rich mine
For all to mine, yet mine.
Red Brush Apr 2019
As the sweet moon pale,
Veiled by clouds,
Vanishes, without fail,
Gather the crowds;
Whispers of my heart frail.
Red Brush Jan 2019
The day from sunrise
Cuts sharply with light.

The night in dark guise
Hides all from the sight.

Between them but lies
The gilded lie, twilight.
Red Brush Sep 2018
What was left unspoken
Then became our scars.
What was blest and spoken
Now a memorable farce.
Red Brush Jul 2018
Every time my heart gets broken,
I glue it back together.
But each time fate has so spoken,
A piece was lost forever.
Red Brush Dec 2018
The masks I wear
Hold well in place.
To wear them fair
I shed my face.
Red Brush Dec 2018
Clumsy fingertips
Tremble in the dark.
Quivering, our lips
Kiss each birthmark.
Each firmly grips,
Passion's bright spark.
Night's youthful slips,
Memories deep mark.
Those moments that etched memories sweet...
Red Brush Oct 2018
I am scared of the mirror.
It hung in my bedroom,
And boomingly it loomed
and laughed at me.

It didn't show me imperfections.
It never showed a reflection at all.
Instead it showed a fiction.

The fiction was perfect.
It was colored, and detailed,
And knew long words,
And had deep thoughts.

The mirror laughed at it.
I asked why, I won't cry, I said.
But why do you care, it asked,
and why would you stare.

The fiction stared back.
It didn't care back.
This wasn't fair, I bared
My teeth and growled
At it, just so it fears me.

I wonder if it sees me at all.
There was just the mirror.
And the laughter. The fiction
Was perfect, and quite dead.
Red Brush Apr 2018
True I am, and an error;
Orphaned son of promise.
Memory, a cracked mirror;
What's lost I'll never miss.
Yet I cower amid that furor-
Of dreams dancing to hubris.
I'm true, but also an error;
My life its flawed thesis.
Red Brush Jul 2018
When she asked me if I'd ever leave
I never knew why she'd doubt me.
But my words she couldn't believe
And madness wouldn't let her see
That I'd stay; so she left me to grieve
A love that wasn't meant to be.
Red Brush Feb 2019
My lies, I see, are pieces of me,
jagged and sharp;
Reminding me what I'd like me to be;
They fall from my fingertips,
With each press of a key,
And blink onto a screen,
To stare back, in disgust, at me.
Red Brush Aug 2018
The world feels broken;
What mattered, now does not.
The people have spoken,
With anger their will fraught.
Many fight heartbroken;
With lies their future wrought.
Yes, the world is broken,
But then, when was it not.
Red Brush Jul 2018
So rocks, I thought, were not exciting
Then one day my teacher asked me;
Did you know there are rocks melting
Underneath us that we don't see?

What do you mean? Asked I curious.
Yes, there's hot lava in the earth's core
Which cools down to form rocks igneous.
Isn't that crazy? But there's more!

So went on she, and shared for long,
How cool rocks are, as I nodded along.
So now I know rocks are boring as hell,
But seems its facts, makes time stand still.
Red Brush Jun 2018
Fate in oblique wisdom gave,
A lonely soul a gentle heart.
Lost, he sought a love to save
What hope life had torn apart.

In time he saw her facade cave,
And felt her tenderly impart
A meaning to him that would pave
His path to glory; A legend's start.

A champion, proud, saw just a knave;
A tool to use, then take apart.
Into the ring, Creed swaggered brave;
What lay in wait was Rocky's heart.
A poetic synopsis of the classic movie, Rocky (1976).
Red Brush Jun 2018
Vast islands of garbage float in the seas,
Plastic, I'm sure. Well, maybe some cans too.
This is horrendous. Most everyone agrees.
Water is life. And sometimes blue. So what can we do?
Save it, I guess. Once we're done with the bees.
Red Brush Dec 2018
What do I do now
Now that I know how
It breaks apart, a vow.

Shall I search again
For love, to end this pain
Or is it all in vain?

How do I go ahead
Knowing what was said
And how nowhere it led.

Is there a way to be
Alone but not lonely
Or am I lying to me?
Red Brush Feb 2019
In youth, with bright eyes
We see a world that can be.
With age, battered by lies,
We see all it will never be.
Red Brush Aug 2018
Burning skies at sunset lay;
With embers golden hid from me.
Her silhouette stood in the way
A far more perfect sight to see.
Red Brush Oct 2018
Outrage, it's a curious thing.
How faux furious voice brings
Spurious poise to previous
noise; Hoist the flag of lies high,
Cos boys will be boys right?

She sits dignified, polite
With right on her side, but
The light shines poor on her
Recurring their eyes concur
How this fight must confer
Nothing on her but a slight.
Based on the Christine Blasey Ford - Kavanaugh hearing
Red Brush Feb 2019
Flower buds gathered light
In dewdrops that hung
On soft petals; their right
To beauty, taken in young-
Morning hours; a sweet sight
For songbirds that sung
Of love born, before night
Came again with dark tongue
To claim light's bloom, in spite.
Red Brush Apr 2019
On her velvet lips
Reddest at night,
Before the slips
Of careless slight,
A smile that grips
My heart tight
Plays, and strips
Me of each right.
Since there seems to be some confusion about certain words, here is the explanation I gave in the comments. The whole poem is essentially one continuous line/thought. On her velvet lips, that are reddest at night, before the slips (slips referring to slips of tongue, much like you would say with a term like 'Freudian Slip') of careless slight (slight meaning an insult) there plays a smile that grips my heart tight and strips of me of each right I have.
Red Brush Dec 2018
Love, should you choose it,
Grants a slight choice.

Give up your self to keep it,
Or raise, in contest, your voice.

To choose, one must patient sit,
Chosen, at love's court of joys.

But in favor of truths, let's admit,
Some will never be love's choice.
Red Brush Dec 2018
What's fair, and also true?
Nothing; Truth brings us sight.
In the dark, stay me and you;
All we dream, vanish in the light.
Red Brush Jun 2018
The love of my life to me, in bed, said,
"I love you truly, love. Now kiss me."

As I leaned in to kiss her, her head
Fell off, screaming with glee, "I'm free!"

With a loud gasp I woke up in bed,
And knew it was just a dream scary.

And then I realized I was not wed.
I was single, and would likely die lonely.
Red Brush Jul 2018
In icy winds, the leaves rustle.
In whispers hoarse they lament
How the nights would soon be quiet;
They'd never again know spring's scent.

— The End —