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Bryan Sep 2018
Run
I want to feel the rush
of a thousand winds
incessantly pushing my sternum
back against my heart.
I want to taste the adrenaline
in its most natural form
as it flows through
my veins swelled with life.
I want to smell the carbon
of the passing drivers
concerned only
with the color of a light.
I want to see the sweat
cloud and sting my eyes
Blind me, I am unconcerned
my being suffers
as I push
my body
to the edge.
Bryan Sep 2018
They say go see the world
Embrace the unexpected
grasp
the unknown.

They told me take the trip
the future is waiting
quicken
your steps

I agreed
packed my bags
hugged
and flew

The funny thing is
after exploring and
dreaming
I still feel

alone
  Aug 2018 Bryan
E. E. Cummings
if i believe
in death be sure
of this
it is

because you have loved me,
moon and sunset
stars and flowers
gold crescendo and silver muting

of seatides
i trusted not,
                    one night
when in my fingers

drooped your shining body
when my heart
sang between your perfect
*******

darkness and beauty of stars
was on my mouth petals danced
against my eyes
and down

the singing reaches of
my soul
spoke
the green-

greeting pale-
departing irrevocable
sea
i knew thee death.

                              and when
i have offered up each fragrant
night,when all my days
shall have before a certain

face become
white
perfume
only,
          from the ashes
then
thou wilt rise and thou
wilt come to her and brush

the mischief from her eyes and fold
her
mouth the new
flower with

thy unimaginable
wings,where dwells the breath
of all persisting stars
Bryan Aug 2018
I've listened to Bowie, I've dabbled with John
Obeyed there instructions and tried to get gone.
I've drafted the ship and gathethered a team
To disappear into space and follow my dream.
Inhaling O2---helmet is on
as I listen to a memorable song
Major Tom?
I can hear his voice now.
Release.
         A tear falls free.
As Im suspended above,
Startled to come down.
Bryan Aug 2018
Does a poem need to posses a Title?
Is it so hard to read a couplet-
     A stanza-
       A metaphor-
And formulate,
     Our own ideas-
       Our own classification
About what has been created.
Bryan Aug 2018
Upon exiting the cabin,
I undergo broken cobble beneath my bare feet.
The remnants of stairs are round and mellow,
Yet some rebel rocks pierce and strike.
No matter, nature has willed it.
Leaving land, I enter upon a man made island
Planks and rods bring support coupled with stability.
String hangs in abundance from rusting cleats,
While dangerous protrusions threaten the innocent flesh.
No matter, man has created it.
As the water calls, I enter.
The buoyant vessel makes for easy observation.
Identifying the stagnant water, which buzzes in anticipation,
Creatures utilize my being for sustenance.
No matter, God has formulated them
To work in unison
In order to create
A recurring environment.
A reflection upon my friend's lake house in Troy, NY. A broken stove, one floor, and no service.
Bryan Aug 2018
As we fall into sleep we wish to dream,
To be taken away from reality.
Abandon the worries of everyday
Our eyes fall shut and we fade away.
Brains spark- stimulated by creativity
Our eight-hour world is filled with ambiguity.
An instance in an upside-down park
Where the water flows up and the sun is dark.
Or maybe on a decrepit moon.
A safari ride.
A storm’s eye.
Or a plain in June.
Wishing to stay, but knowing to leave
Adventure cut short, yet we do not grieve.
Eyes flash open, unaware
Of the joyous, the cheerful, the nightmare?
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