Bryan Gewickey: Poems

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Please and thank you,
so curtsy often
to the brown and gold
array arras errat error
and enter
politely,
for a new age-
is much less a new page
turned,
than old pages burned.

To think and dream is not the age we are,
but blatant blatancy
berates the timid temperance of tolerance
in such a brutal light
that tiptoes are required footwear
for all 6 companies that run
the treadmill of deeliteful light.
and it delights in light
and fruitless
useless
brooding
foolishness.
iamtalking of course
about the horse,
the dog,
the cat,
the viral virus of vermin
-
to break up our monotony,
all that is necessary is
to be willing
to shed the opinions of the mass
-ive ignorance
and think,
but more than most,
to breathe in compassion

Clam 1

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Clam 1

Calm clam
                       I command you
                                                               DANCE,
                                                for all the world is shivering
                                                       and your foot
is a fire
                                                     a-tingle
with wood and
                                   what some say sorcery
                                         others say forgiveness
                                            and Blood like mine
                                          is far from wine,
but made for blanching
                                                    snow, - -
to fall
                     deep
-lee
                             into ropes,
oh       stretching
                                                                         cords wrapped deepened
                                                                from my lungs,
                                                              all my organs build a latch,
                                                             a gate, a sink,
                                                        a house,
                                                                        a humble mansion
  for a crumble-man:sinned
and
                 tor
che
                             d///     to spirits
                                                              of
                                                                     a
                                                                          liquor.
                                                  To build again a fire,
                                                    not flames,
                                                       but a W(Holy)
                                     consumption,
                         "I am not dead yet", but once soon I will.

Clam 2

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Clam 2

One -
                                          loose leaf clam
                                                                    held hostage
                                                                                                by a lark,
                                                     left full by
                                                             harmless
spears
, a dark,
encased
in ribs and chewing
blood
like gum,
aground
of wicked
shrimp
left
dealing
lies to
deaf seals
and hurried
sand.
Oh, Wind of all 1,000 colors
broken to a prism
of loss
, that is life,
a bridge
, that is burns,
a free
reign        ,
my King,
a conquering
kitten,
Three
Fires
undone to splinters
of a Wood worn
to waves
of glass, an endless Sea, Lion-lined bones set free.

Cross

Bryan Gewickey Nov 2012

Cross

Look, I'm not sure if we are something so important
but take heart against the grave,
He was always meant for this
and with the spine you hear Him crack
but the earth is only breaking
as the constellations gasp
and with all the breath in space-
you're the reason He's gone alone.

The rhythm is based off of The Chariot's "Tongues" from the ablum One Wing.

In All False Religion, true harmony

Bryan Gewickey Oct 2012

In All False Religion, true harmony

So bring your favorite church

and your favorite song,

and some illustrious teacher

and loveless words along-

We are heading for a forest

where the sparks are small,

but fierce tremors will shake

and cause mortal words to fall-

When weather permits we will

go singing and tremble down our bones,

because all our spirits ache

for the true and righteous Home-

All I am You, All us are false

All All All is You but dimly lit,

All All my Father, All my Christ

Every All my Anchor-Ghost-Possessor-Mist.

Not the heart, the lungs

Bryan Gewickey Nov 2012

Not the heart, the lungs

I do not feel you in my heart-
that which drums on endlessly
and dull, devoid of most art,
struggling in spineless pulse
to find hemo-globe and not a hearse.

Sometimes I do not even feel my chest
hurtling blood into my veins
though I'm sure it rushes, while I rest,
at near hundred miles a minute-

No, i do not feel you pound in my heart.
I only feel you in my lungs,
breathing steadily through my nose
or heavy by my tongue-
you rush through my neck,
you rise and fall in all my bronchi--

and soft you travel in my body.

One. Third.

Bryan Gewickey May 2013

One. Third.

In the darkest of trees, there are no shadows:
only absence.
But all hope is slight Christ,
,all Light part divine but dim and not whole
but never un.
I do not move but by Your movement
and all circles are my love almost,,,
but Glory is an endless-
a static swirl a crimson forest
paved into One/(th)f(ree)

Star(t)s

Bryan Gewickey Oct 2012

Star(t)s

In all backwards and forways,

for upways and downwords

still stick in my mind

that some hearts are not fine

and maybe if I said it thus simple

I would gather all stars to my ribs

but I see it not simple.

If I am, in all consequence,

I must see all together or see not at all.

For harps are not one string,

nor babies one bone

but by influx of rivers

thus comes the sea.

and asking: what sort of waters make up we.

the apprehension burns

Bryan Gewickey Nov 2012

the apprehension burns

the terrors of losing are not the loss.
it is not from our hearts
but our lungs that break
when the you that was here
becomes the you that I fear.
it goes from presence
to .
(and the hardest thing
is knowing you still exist
when you are all that i miss)

there is not silence

Bryan Gewickey Nov 2012

there is not silence

in all,
AMAGICDANCE
is all,
and we,
though lost,
long forever,
to pulse,
with them.

Untitled

Bryan Gewickey Apr 2013

Untitled

lots and lots of planes
have shoved the air
aside like leaves
or broken
many hearts with distance
but we are never hurt as much as we hurt ours
elves
and sothe magic is
in
healing,
not from battles
but
from
feeling
and the mind that tells the heart
what grandeur that it
lacks

What has us is never

Bryan Gewickey Feb 2013

What has us is never

It is
wonderfully vague
how I can
never not
be nothing
or even
stay the
same.
How we
all know
we are
but dying
is not
a fashion
yet.
And if
we change
from dying
to death
I think
I know
we live
again.

— The End —