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Brycical Apr 2016
and it scares me because
the glow in her eyes and
melodious rhythm
in her words give me the impression
that she enjoys talking
about these things.

And it's not
one of those mindful zen
practicing acceptance
attitude of gratitude  type of
scenes where she loves it out
of herself and heals all
the heavy scars she wears.

It's like she revels in her misery--
I just don't get it man!
Maybe I'm doing some
wacko projection thing
or that I'm reading too much
into it all. I mean,
I am a bookworm. But,

There's just something about
the way, the feeling or
the tone that vibrates through
my soul like a friggin' red light Spider Sense
that gives me the creepers.

She'd say that she's simply
stating facts and, while that
may be true,
I just can't help but hear
some callous time ******* black-hole train crash rejoicing;
like a perverted hymn
to misfortune and gloom.

I don't know man, maybe
those are just the tunes my mom enjoys playing.
Could be that's just not my
style, or how I approach
something like that.
I try not to judge, but
some **** is just doesn't sit
well with me, you know?
I can't help that.
Happy Mother's Day?
Brycical Mar 2016
My words yearn
to wrap around
those warm bodies
breathing poetry
wandering in their beatnik gypsy mountain time
dancing in the citrine champagne universe
pouring daybreak stardust into hands
getting a buzz from the indigo vibrations
tickling the wild child turquoise flowers
blossoming from their hearts
opening arms
allowing my words
to slide over them
fitting comfortably
like a t-shirt or hoodie.
A starving artist gotta eat somehow.
Brycical Dec 2015
Take a moment,

Inhale that infinity carrying all the words that we speak,
both the heavy rock steady deadly second darts
aiming for the bullseye painted on our hearts and
the artistic gypsy dancing ones
like honey whisky giving us a little buzz.

Take a moment,

Exhale this surreal reality of fallacy
don't matter what's happening on Downing Street
or Pennsylvania Ave cause you have more important things to do,
like laugh as you let your mind crash
watching this game everybody's playing like Minecraft.

Take a moment,

Exhale the clenching pain
your brain might claim you shoulda kept hold,
like the Buddha once said it's like grasping hot coal
so blow your dragon breath and stoke our campfire souls.

Take a moment,

Inhale the light,
feel the warmth sojourn and wander
through your veins asunder tappin' 5/4 patterns
hi hat snappin rim clappin' rhythm
filling all schism within as if a liquid bridge joins sides of a grand canyon.

Take a moment,

Exhale and feel the silence...
listen to the surrounding serenity
whispering aplenty serendipitous magnificence
within your heartbeats and breath bereft of distraction.
This sacred and holy action is a sacrament
as you attune into what's happenin both within, and beyond.

Take a moment,

Inhale the heartgasm phantasmagorical adorable
world force of all things , the high vibe entirety
inspiring the fire within everyone,
that sacred holy light igniting the path to your heart
basking in ancient ******* laughter where nothing matters
and the mind chatter is silenced by the awe inducing lucid compassion
of all atoms in union of togetherness.

Take a moment,

Exhale and follow your breath into the infinite.
Brycical Dec 2015
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Brycical Nov 2015
Could you take out the trash?

I will in like, five or ten minutes, I'm finishing an email to a friend.

I'd rather you do it now. I'm in desperate need to feel like there's control and order in my life since these sudden feelings or powerlessness within my own life have surfaced again.

This seems to be a regular occurrence with you Mom.
Why not consider therapy?

I'd rather make up another excuse instead of  admitting you might be on to something because of two reasons. The first being that I resent the fact someone younger than me, which is code for someone who I perceive doesn't have much life experience, is suggesting something about my life. The second and much more important is that I'm a coward that would rather hide from my fears than face them.

It's frustrating to me because I perceive there are easy solutions to these obstacles but you'd rather wallow in your suffering. Sometimes I think you'd be happier with a gun in your mouth
if you weren't so petrified of death. Hi Dad.

I'm ignoring everything. Making a b-line toward my office where I can drown my sorrows in cheap whisky and work
because of my cancerous self-loathing in perception
for not living up to an outdated model of achievement
as set for by my parents and their parents.

It fills my heart with a melancholic rage because you're not letting me lean on you to feel better about my own self esteem issues
since I rely on everyone else to build up my confidence.

This touches my raw nerve heartstrings because I used to have self-confidence issues that I never felt comfortable sharing with anyone until after therapy and years of meditation.
Now I feel partially responsible in a slightly self-righteous way
that I should try and help both of you even though you two don't seem to want to help yourselves.

I'm much too busy dwelling on the past.

I resent that and don't understand why you're not anxiously brooding on the future like me.

I'm going to take the trash out because I feel obligated to do so even though I'd rather finish my email. I will resent this for a few hours until I calm down into a pool of serenity thanks to my meditation practice. I'm also taking the trash out because extended conflict makes me uneasy and I'd rather compromise my own individuality and boundaries to make all of this end even though I realize this is perpetuating these cycles of conflict.
Brycical Oct 2015
When people ask what I do for a living,
I respond

Listening to my heart ******
as my mind garden blossoms
incandescent indigo constellations
humming the songs of nature’s entirety.

I sensually embrace the entirety’s
divine lips kissing my spirit
with sacred words
merging into me—
a blissful osmosis of neurotransmitters
waltzing with my consciousness
flowing liquid electricity
and molten rhythms of oxygen
in kinetic unison through moments
of subjective apocalypses
slowly returning to yugen.

When asked where I see myself in ten years,
I respond

Copacetic contentment—
having surrendered my life
to more than just the digital currency
of likes and retweets
and the constantly dissolving paper coins
because I chose to see people
as breathing pieces of naked art,
in progress,
stripped down to their thoughts
jettisoned through this spherical time
of infinite space and possibility
slowly accepting there is more out there
beyond traditional political religical flimflam,
beyond abnormal logicality,
beyond nirvana.

Love implies
steps and stones
shattered bones
walks alone. . .

Inspired by excellent Steve's
brevity "By the Sea"
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