My husband sits for days on end,
Staring through his empty friend,
My tearful words fall alone,
His mind resides in combat zone,

A man replaced by shell so cold,
Numbed by scars of war untold,
Violent dreams lived each night,
Lashing out, at all in sight,

He returns to war inside his head,
Trauma stained by all bloodshed,
A trigger pulled, his mind released,
Begging for, all thoughts to cease,

His scars remain, but can't be seen,
Buried deep inside his dreams,
Years of therapy, will help him free,
From the damaging effects..
.. of Post Traumatic Stress

I pray for the day, he's finally home,
So the trauma of war, can leave us alone.

Poetry is “write” when you let it be as open and free
as open and free as a harmless wing flittering about
an aimless stream meandering from shore to shore
So there on the tip of your pen she lands just aright
so fragile afoot, she prays, no time to wait just write
gleaming ink, shimmering and still weighting its time
the pros and the cons the sound of making it rhyme
words find their own place be it on paper or cement
there you commit by letting it sit just as it was meant
Pick a word or two and say what they mean to you
when hearing a cadence of letters form in your head
let your fingers bleed what your heart wants said
letting your deepest voice speak, the reality inside
Poetry is "write" right where you live, if you decide
BB2015

As a man who has devoted his whole life to the most clear headed science, to the study of matter, I can tell you as a result of my research about atoms this much: There is no matter as such. All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force which brings the particle of an atom to vibration and holds this most minute solar system of the atom together. We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent Mind. This Mind is the matrix of all matter.
— Max Planck, Das Wesen der Materie, 1944

A single atom, the god particle, matter or anti matter it is a micro exponential point of every cell within us. We, people are in fact a galactic micro system by design.
The infinite mind, the all seeing eye, the matrix of cross over systems our human anatomy is structured with valves, ventricles, veins, arteries, pumps, liken to refineries, distilleries, depositories, disposal centers, we are a micro-engineered inner-planetary system. Bio chemically producing everything our physical world needs to exist.
Intricately if not divinely flowing in mass with an even greater gargantuan outer limit system of heavens and universes.
We play our part in a much grander idealism then mere earthly beings. We are gods and goddesses. Heavenly tribal guardians of infinite space and time. Triggers like cogs in a finely balanced spiral of life and death on a symbiotic evolution. All without giving our bodies much thought it moves forwards onward to that new place in times continuum.
We devote ourselves to gain understanding. To learn new disciplines. To live long and prosper. To co exist with nature or have you our organic materialism. This paradox is the enigma of fantasy and spiritualism.

That summer night had its way with us
we were caught in the after shock of it
the shrill clash, the thrill of her smile
the bouquet of her perfume filled the air
she left her touch like fire in my chest
moments felt as petals from a dried rose
they seemed to last forever
we laughed, we played, we sank deeply
as the moon swept its glow on our bodies
a misty musk lingered between us
words were touch stones we followed in love
we knew the morning would come too soon
caught in rapture we clung to each other
our hesitations were gasping breaths
we weaved into the night, it embraced us
she was a budding flower in my hands
her fingers were blades of grass to my skin
lifting from the ground, sifting my emotions
if love is lost, I never wanted to be found
for in this slip of night she was all I desired

BB2015

My skin is cold as thawing ice
frozen, fixed, and bleak
the world is broken under my feet
where did life go so wrong
I’m boxed six feet deep
in a dark crumpled creep
dreams mascaraed as light
forbidden light I can not see
one day my past appears
in my treasured hope
from once shinning eyes
how the hours past me by
in this requiem a song
chiming in the wind of time
tempered like stained glass
forever, forever at last
Shouts of Barabus, say not!
low my soul tis not I, behold
the cross, rising on the hill
Golgotha the blood running
A lamb before the slaughter
“Screams” of He died! He Lied!
I…silently died with him too
At his feet nailed and bent
I hear a shuttered cry
“Forgive them they know not what they do”
My brokenness once firmly in the ground
rises quickly bursting in light
Alas my King, my God tis you
every prayer spoken is true
The golden streets I craved
mine, all for the life you gave
BB2015

SKINNED MY TEETH ON YESTERDAY
AND BROKE A TOOTH THAT’S IT
IT’S JUST THE WAY BAD TRAVELS

LOST HOPES AND BROKEN DREAMS
THE LAG OF WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT
I'VE HURT BETTER THAN THIS BEFORE

AND I'VE HATED YOU A LOT MORE
TIME TO FORGIVE AND FORGET
GET ON WITH THE TRUTH OF IT

WHAT TRUTH, WHERE, I EAT THE TRUTH
IT STARES AT ME IN THE MIRROR
IT COMES OUT MY MOUTH LIKE PAIN

PAIN I CAN DEAL, IT’S YOU I FEEL
IN MY HEART CRYING IN MY HEAD
MAYBE TONIGHT I CAN JUST GO TO BED

BB2013