Brycical

Brycical Nov 2012

they shout.
A collection of my closest friends
and confidants
implore, plead & demand
my index finger move
only inches to squeeze
the trigger of the pistol.

Pull the trigger!

My arms are quivering--
the chain smoking hasn't helped
steady the nerves.
I'm having trouble looking
at my victim.

Pull the trigger!

He's my best friend
but also destroyed whatever life I had
as he continues spiraling out of control.
I can't focus at work,
I'm afraid to go back to my own apartment--
letting him crash for a while was a bad idea.
My nerves are shot,
I'm emotionally drained...
I'd do anything to make it stop.

Pull the trigger!

They keep shouting in unison--
all people I trust implicitly.
They've never steered me wrong before,
they sympathize,
can't stand to see him erode away
what's left of my life.

Pull the trigger!

They're right.
There's nothing I can do--
what choice is left?
My head vibrates
from their chanting
my eyes are watering a little--
thought I'd be sobbing.
A deep exhale...
quickly raising the gun
to his head--

Pull the trigger!

He's sobbing,
whimpering like a wounded *****.
When he looks at me,
I can tell he understands
and sympathizes with me.
I whisper,
"If you don't
get the help you need--
I'm going to do what they want."
After I holster the gun
to stunned silence,
I walk away...

Brycical Nov 2012

Helping Hands

People who say they want to help
scare me,
because this is what I hear:

I want to help you: I want to control you
I know what you need.
**** that whole "being there" bit,
what good is that if I can't show you
how clever and well-adjusted I am?
You need to eat this green plant
and smoke that green plant
or take these round pills
after swallowing the thick oval ones.
I'm full of great ideas.
I don't understand why people don't love me more;
I'm such a helper.
What's good about listening
when I could be telling you
all of your solutions?
All you have to do is listen to me.
Why is that so hard?
Just do what I say
and I know for a fact
your life will turn around.
That's so easy,
especially for you
because all you have to do
is what I say.
I'm the one putting forth all the effort.
Why doesn't everyone
do this?

I'm not really sure where this one came from. I don't dislike people who help. I respect them greatly.

Brycical Nov 2012

Reckless

Sometimes you just gotta smash
your laptop against the wall
Tear and gnash your your canvas,
burn your pens and paintbrush
into a colorful tye-dye fire
**** on the kitchen floor
and smash the whisky bottle
across the glass wine rack
kick a hole in that guitar
spinning with lighted matches
spinning with a numb-reckless-abandon
toppling over bookshelves
laughing like a monkey
tossing the toaster
into the bathtub
break the mirror with a head-but
and take a 2x4 to the porch light outside
smiling like a python
stomping on the oven door
taking a knife to the floor
because carpet angels are totally in

Inspired the song "Give it Back" by The Ting Tings: http://youtu.be/-EnlcP7rAlc

Brycical Nov 2012

Slam Poet Thinks the Mona Lisa is His Mother

Mona.
Lisa.
Lee-ah
nardo
how do
YOU know
my mom.

I remember having
pizza
with ya the other night,
we watched
the "Da Vinci Code"
after we had that fight,
about Montauk
hotdog tripe flavored ice cream.

Even the audience
doesn't think that's yummy!

You taught,
me how to knit
chocolate and wish
upon the sun.

Did you mom?
Am I your son?
I'd prefer pecon pie.
No-body likes
pecans in my family.
Did Leo
like legumes ?
******,
I may always
be cursed
with writing words
that make reference to obscure
astrology.
My apologies to his
groupies who think he's
the best ******* art-east
since slice bread.
But how would it
feel to had some dude who
painted your mom
and it was
the big-gust
most successful
commercial success
through out
time?

Brycical Oct 2012

Blues Man

Ain't nobody notices you-
'till the spot-light's on...

A smokey 'gray sigh- up
since three-in-the morn...

A stiff whisky breakfast-
stench lingers forth

and when, you, open-ya mouth-
the cold, pain'a the world, come rowlin' out.

And when, your, voice-'sprays that sound-
rattlin' round our ears like a chain.

Ya' seem old as dirt, man--
but hurt worse than your infant

***, after ya'daddy branded it--
w/ the knuck's a his backhand.

understandable why-
ya' wanna get higher,
than the fumes of ya' sapphire water.

This is all 'ya got left
'till death, comes an grants ya warmth.

and you're, all, lone till the demons
soar forth from 'ya soul.

Brycical Oct 2012

Making New, From Used

Don't cry in the whisky baby
I am an alcoholic highlight reel
mostly made from concentrated
      words--
I'll quit when I'm ready
for all kinds of art
vibrating love venom,
and words like love--
         I can't seem to agree with authority.
My ankle indicates some sprain or tweak.

There's plenty of beer in the fridge,
I am not going to *** my pants ever again
like a **** and bottle of bourbon.
            Thanks, I'm full
but parents never cared.
The road is litered--
the marrow ****** from their veins everyday
and the gypsy whisper of "why are we?"
is in my heartbeat.
There it went, frolicking through the midnight sky
like a car wreck,
haunting, like the song "Scarborough Fair."

I have a bunch of unfinished poems, so I decided to look at all of them, and without changing anything, take the first line of one and combine it with the second line of another and combine that with a third line of.... you get the idea. Second stanza is the same thing, just starting from another point from the first poem.

Brycical Oct 2012

Our First Glimpse

Today I don't believe
in love at first sight.
It's been replaced by lust;
a look of stalking prey
without any real understanding of "who"
but rather "want."

I must have believed in it
when I met you
millions of years ago--
our eyes synced together,
and for only a passing moment
we must have grokked each other--
forging an early link in the chain
called our timeline
through the fire within our molten third eyes,
binding our spirits together in the metal with lightning
from our hearts
and a hammer of certainty
as we saw each new life
we were to live had us meeting
all over the world, from Denmark to ancient Mexico
to Egypt to The Light past the darkest parts of outer space.

That's the only explanation
that makes sense,
why I don't believe in it today,
because it's already happened ages ago.

for Summer Breeze.