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Apr 2012 · 2.0k
Dear Neighbor Allison,
Brycical Apr 2012
Though we've only known each other
for two weeks,
i feel confident

in trusting your judgement
100%.

But you scare the ****
out of me
because i never have any idea what the hell you're going to do next.
~Your Neighbor,
Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 751
Dear Katherine,
Brycical Apr 2012
and frank.

You're adorable.
You are the epitome of "spunky."

I can only hope to one day,
bring a room such infectious joy!

I only wish
you didn't sound
like you were talking to five year olds
everyday.

I don't care what anyone else says,
you're still one of the most honest human beings
on the planet.
You've given me strength,
a secret admirer,
~Bryce
Apr 2012 · 703
Dear Jeanette V Velazquez,
Brycical Apr 2012
I don't understand
why more people aren't following,
fanning, stalking, whatever word
they use here on HP.

Your words are sharp,
titanium thorns
made out of the edge.

I admire your work,
and the courageousness
echoing behind.....  . ..   .   .  . .  .  .     .     .

You're a lot more optimistic than you think you are.
Don't be afraid to let that shine through..... ... .. . . .   .  .  .  .  .    .   .      .
From a pretty
big fan,
~The Bryce Post
Brycical Apr 2012
**** it
in life.
For just another few seconds,
the world's most pretentious hipster.
~The Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 593
Dear g jha,
Brycical Apr 2012
Your wisdom reminds me of Isis.

You are a very pure person,
in my humble opinion.

                                             Everything you write carries
                                                            so much
punch,
                                                            so much
kick,
                                                            so much
knee to the gut
                   emotion
                                  that touches my heart....

Though, I do not entirely see
eye to eye with you
on the whole suffering bit,

that is merely a difference
in belief structure
whereupon I simply say I believe in nature.

                                                        But, you are one wise, hip chic
                                           that I would dig to have a glass of wine with
                                       and discuss all sorts things from our mind's eyes.
From a burgeoning student...
~The Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 706
Dear RKM
Brycical Apr 2012
Your words
are echoed utopia
dystopically toned
singed with witticism
kindling from within the pure rhythm      of         the         third        EyE.

I know, I know....
these are how most of our
conversations play out.
But,                                                      
I just cannot help myself.

I am willing to say
I think your words
I grok the most.

May you one day meditate
with Azurite....
and breathe the energies
of the written word
into my humble brain......
Your Dead Weather friend,
~The Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 986
Dear Madds,
Brycical Apr 2012
You remind me of the living,
breathing.....  
    (  (  (s t r u g g l e)  )   )
within my mind constantly.

I can relate to your questions
and fears, outcasts' s ' sss tearss' s''s'' ' '

But there is a light,
oh man,
there is a light
so bright that will release so much energy
into this universe one day we may find ourselves
in a similar utopia. I promise you
it's there, inside you.

The answers are out there,
you're very close.
Much closer than I was at your age.

Simply believe in yourself......
Yours Truly,
~The Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 815
Dear Maighdlin Maureen
Brycical Apr 2012
The words I wrote before
were mean spirited
vile
and yet completely true.

Someone once told me,
"There are no wrong emotions,"
one fo the many lessons I've taken
to my spirit.

I never thanked you,
you're the one who
       turned my life on a more spiritual path
       taught me that there are others like me in the world
       & loved me for being me, something few folks do.

Being part of the gasoline
that fueled the burning of our bridges
is one of two things I shall regret
in this lifetime.
Though I am hopeful other lives
in the future smoke
will give us a chance to reconnect.

I'm proud of our times together,
saddened our hang ups hung us.

There's always going to be a place
you occupy in my brain
whether you want to be there or not.
Your poetry still moves me.

I can't forget you.
But, that doesn't mean
you don't have to.
Apr 2012 · 1.5k
Dear Matthew P. Hill,
Brycical Apr 2012
You remind me much of myself.
You remind me much of myself except, more together...
You remind me of myself every time I see the words "Midnight" "Haiku"

All of your words are golden bright,
a white knight righteously marching
for truth.
Optimistic Siddhartha--
    A Copacetic Beyonder
back again to remind man
it's all going to be allright, man.
From the dude
a couple light years behind,
~The Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 847
Dear lp,
Brycical Apr 2012
I don't know you that well.

Aside from small brushes of conversation
and the neo-classical poetry you gracefully
whisper through whatever cloud your laptop lays upon.

I only mention this as you probably
know about 2% less about my life
than my best friend, Joshua Wade.

You have also inspired
one of the greatest Lapis Lazuli truths
from within my being to burst through
the world twirling in subconsciousness
until speaking to you Rose Quartz crystalized it...
Your creative confidant,
~The Bryce Post
Apr 2012 · 927
Dear Joshua Wade
Brycical Apr 2012
There have been times whereupon I thought you mad,
yet somehow you manage to reveal truth.
I'm grateful, but also surprised you've tolerated
my drunken psychobable antics
for six-ish years.
And in this span of time you know more about me
than perhaps my parents care to know.

I was afraid the several times
you tried to off yourself.
At the time, I couldn't fathom why anybody would.
I wrestled for quite sometime
about whether I would still feel the same way.

I'm glad to see you're loosening up.
I know you're not completely happy,
but you are at least content for the moment
which methinks is a big accomplishment for you.

You've taught me more than you realize;
mostly about holding on to small bits of sanity
so that I don't frequently snap
into an anxiety fueled hooligan
willing to go the way of Hendrix.

I can only hope that I do not let you down
in whatever shamantic visions you see for me.
Your best friend,
peace & love...
~Bryce
Brycical Mar 2012
When the wood touches
my lips
my whole body trembles--
           triplet trebles drip quickly
out....


In my head,
I sound nothing
like the spheres surrounding
        the guitar's melancholy,
        mellow below comes above
and I WAIL.....
          sailing these sounds
swaddling the drumbox beat
to  a crescendo
      exercising all the ills
I've swilled and spilled--
           FILLING
the house
              FILLING my self....
radiating away all thoughts
of doubt.
a reminder of the Bird 'Tranes
a reminder of the names
I used to sing......


Silence
seems like such a foreign concept again.
Mar 2012 · 652
Change from Within
Brycical Mar 2012
And a thought slides
into my brain,
like someone whispered into my third eye.

And this thought enlightens
my body, yellow radiates from within...
I'm warm.....

The light continues--
throughout my conscious,
into my timeline, illuminating
moments of evidence.......

I am a harbinger of radical change
from within you.
Your mind will break--crack--melt/ripple
and so shall your life seemingly crumble--
your pandoras box of history will shatter,
leaving you in a lonely/scary dull crater
in cold/moonlight............
only then shall you discover what you've been seeking.
Feb 2012 · 1.5k
Pouring water on the music
Brycical Feb 2012
Recently
it seems
every time we talk
our cacophonous
voices don't sing.

The harmony's off--
lost it's charming ring.
The tye-dye mind's eye melody
is mellowing into a gray spring.

And I'm wondering why?

But...
I think I know.
Only asked cause
I was hopin' you might hum some other musical notes,
ones that won't turn this song into a black swan dive
forced to call the huntin' dogs to track
back to a time where you and I laughed freely.

But there's this feeling
that this is how your other he must have felt
while you and me were undoing our belts--
yelling & screaming
as my parents were sleeping
upstairs above--
we played each other like saxophones
to this grand Nirvana relaxed crescendo!

But as this poem progresses
the tempo stiffens--
    your voice lessens--
as the harmony's off-key
and the melody's riff softens.
It's not hitting me hard like a gong-
feels like two people singing
different lyrics into the same microphone.
Someone with synesthesia can see
our colorful speech atrophy
instead of pirouetting in turquoise dreams.

If that sounds harsh,
sorry, that's the reality I perceive--
we don't want each other to leave,
But our avoidance of labeling
what we are also established what we weren't
and now this playful...thing? we had
feels like a breaking carafe as it hits the floor.

I want to continue writing you more poems and songs
but it's hard when the harmony's off-key
and losing it's charm.
   This new lentando^ tempo's like a left arm going numb.
I want to keep composing
but it feels like water
instead of kerosine pouring
on the fire that was inspiring
as this mournful melody dilates throughout my being.
^gradually slowing

Don't judge this based on content. I mainly wrote this because of the rhythm and here is the result.
Feb 2012 · 544
Earth Mantra
Brycical Feb 2012
Keep me grounded.

Keep me strong.


Listen to the rhythm of the Mother’s^ song.


Muscles are stone.

Skin is dirt.


Fauna rustles dancing leaves in concert.


Animals roam.

Feel their lives.


Through mind’s eye, let them be your guide.
^Mother Earth.
Feb 2012 · 1.3k
Water Mantra
Brycical Feb 2012
wash* away
            wash away
       wash away wash away


Ripple vibrations
stimulating hydration—
        dripping finger droplets
flushing worry
washed away
            wash away
       wash away wash away


Cleanse my senses
& grow my Earth.
The stream is healing
for my warm rebirth.
wash away
            wash away
       wash away wash away
Feb 2012 · 581
Human Friends
Brycical Feb 2012
I often forget
                     my friends are human.

I hold them in high regard,
like a jar of gems in the sun.

As the years circulate,
they have talked me down
from tearing my brain out

unlike my family

they're honest,
not afraid to tell me anything
even if it hurts.
Like that time I was dating that girl
and everyone called her a ****** hell-*****.

I only carry the secrets
they've asked me to in my pockets.

My family encourages me to make money.
My friends tell me to do whatever makes me content.

                       So sometimes my gratitude
                       transforms
                       these humans into deities
                       that do no wrong.

             I'm shocked
             at their careless decisions
                 disgusted
               by their occasional irrationality.
                      How dare they soil the image I've created in my brain
                      to which I then project unto them!

                                      The world disappoints me
                                      as a whole--
                                      but that's expected.

My brain & heart fissure
when my friends
don't act like these people I worship.
Until I remember the keyword
is "people."
They're human, just like me.
Feb 2012 · 574
meditation (inspiration)
Brycical Feb 2012
Shapes coalesce
        in the liquid
   effervescently
iridescent upon contact
        with air.

As a drink,
      so shall the mind flower
   lotus glow--
growing
       green/yellow
           spindle
feeding my subconscious
pleasant portraits
          painted atop
     Chrysocolla blocks.
Feb 2012 · 895
Pleasant Dreams (revised)
Brycical Feb 2012
family & cherished friends
die
in my nightmares.





I
die
in my dreams
Feb 2012 · 1.4k
Karma
Brycical Feb 2012
Every good deed
we've ever performed
throughout the millennia of your lives--

--Even if we made Buddha
& Ghandi appear to be chumps--


                                               *Only leads
                                                to Nirvana;
                                                    whic­h is knowing the owner
                                                    of a restaurant who takes
                                                   50% off the meal.
Feb 2012 · 5.5k
Heart of a Taurus
Brycical Feb 2012
I bleed letters, breathe words--
lived in utero with a pen.
Creative gypsies & outcasts
are brethren.
I will die
for their plaid sky brushstrokes
&/or verbal slip-bang poetry.
That's my religion.

Self-doubt is my sin.
I have a habit of overstaying my welcome,
another is coming on a little strong.

Communication is my mantra,
my philosophy is intelectual stimulation.  

Putting up with "****"
    is second nature.
Spit in my face.
         Call me names.
   Don't give me that promotion.
I'll survive--
       probably even laugh about it later...

But...
take advantage of me--
or those I hold close--
     if I even see a glint
     of the knife
            you're going to put in my back
I promise--
    I promise
the pain you will feel
        leaves a scar much worse
than whatever could happen to me.
Jan 2012 · 946
Tiger's Eye
Brycical Jan 2012
Decisions
are prioritized

Answers*
align

The mind
is focused

I am the hunter--
emboldened by the stone's *vibration

to prey upon my indecision
and apathy.
Jan 2012 · 568
Your Company
Brycical Jan 2012
I've never thought anyone should be alone,
      it's like "a demon tied--"
                well, you get the idea.
But I've found friends have a knack
for leaving without saying goodbye.
    Normally I don't give a ****...

But something inside,
a little, seldom heard shadow voice
spoke
loudly--
suggesting I traverse to the top of the turquoise mountain
where your plexi/stained-glass-glow-in-the-dark shelter sits.
I know I shouldn't,
                but this voice seems convinced
                I should make some sort of
                exception for you.
                I think it knows something I don't....


The energy you radiate
whispers you're alive.
And I write,
      and I write--
mostly psychobabble graffiti
all over your protective bubble.  
       It's supposed to be a playful gesture,
I'm thinking about you!
I don't know if I can stop--
thinking
or writing...
I think it's a distraction
to ignore my fears...
And I write,
      and I write--

But the darkest
within me rustles
in blind, mute nightfall.
I can hear it breathing,
claws scratching the rock on the mountain...

              I await for the knock on your side
              telling me to stop,
              but I think realization
              has set in for both of us...

                                           you're head will explode
                                           regardless,
                                           but, at least this time,
                                 we can say goodbye.
Jan 2012 · 731
Falling Vases
Brycical Jan 2012
You can't catch both.
Jan 2012 · 1.2k
When you appear in my dreams
Brycical Jan 2012
I look at your eyes
& can't help but gaze through
directly into your brain...

the silence speaks,                
                          our        thoughts
release            {{{{undulating}}}}        colors
      glowing through        our eyes
to          effervescently               coalesce
all over
               your subconscious
               ( (v i b r a t i n g) )
throughout           your          body
until we breathe
                azurite         dreams  
           from the incandescent heartbeat
                          of the      [plaid]       bliss
                  we have enveloped ourselves with....
A little thanks goes to Maighdlin Maureen Kelly for the assist with the ending...
Jan 2012 · 868
Cleansing the Mind
Brycical Jan 2012
some view storms
as clichéd expressions
related to the overwhelming
events of each individual droplet
shattering the serenity of our perception
& flooding our thoughts-
almost drowning our minds
in tumultuous anxiety.

i prefer to see storms
as a cleansing experience-
washing away those thoughts
& events no longer needed
within our subconscience
into a swirling, roaring
whirling and bubbling
muddy puddle...
down an infinite drain,
where the caked dirt dries--
crystalizes
into a lesson in humility,
& letting go....
Jan 2012 · 5.6k
Beard
Brycical Jan 2012
I allow my face to become a jungle.
No longer barren—
or devoid of fuzzy foliage.
The manmade steel that shredded  
and sliced the whisker trees
lays abandoned, somewhere
in a porcelain graveyard
rusting and eroding into ash--
slowly becoming one with nature
again.
Jan 2012 · 1.3k
Leaving
Brycical Jan 2012
I broke the beer bottle
as a metaphor for my emotions--
                     the realization she was leaving setting in.
There was nothing romantic between us.
Just a friendship--
two people, sharing
dead seal dark humor
& common hatred of being idle.
She stayed in the hospital with me
after someone added something "special" to my drink.
We'd only met five hours prior.

You can't find that type of karmic green kindness
laying idly on a sidewalk or in the mall.
If only she weren't such an uppity *****--
I'd miss her even more.

I'd be at her goodbye party
right now, sharing bourbons
and yucking it up.
But she makes me feel
so ******* uneasy--
hence, I'm staying here,
drinking craft beer and honoring
her friendship by a pouring one out.
I've been working on this one for a while.
Jan 2012 · 1.8k
Azurite
Brycical Jan 2012
White lightning strikes us--
     we're connected...
                           -vividly-
           our energies
       envelope...
  visualization of our desire
              sprouts forth
        like an emerald tree
   in the ethereal consciousness--
                      providing primeval symbols
     taught to our isotopes
            and totems.
Jan 2012 · 638
Meditation (Arrival)
Brycical Jan 2012
My lips vibrate while
you hold me, around the neck.
I wish you were here.
Jan 2012 · 623
Meditation (Anticipation)
Brycical Jan 2012
Man, I'm new at this.
She sees more on the astral,
I fill in the blanks.
Jan 2012 · 533
Meditation
Brycical Jan 2012
Breathing, the heart slows…
my body releases me.
My mind now travels.
Jan 2012 · 958
Collision
Brycical Jan 2012
When our gazes fasten together--
our beings recklessly careen forward
a collision course
rivaling the longing of two magnetic forces

& when we touch.....
        and we fall,
escaping into All,
falling falling
             everything         sails        past
very                rabbit hole-esque        
and we vibrate
in the wind--
         whirling around  
     w
          i
            n
          d
       i
    n
g weeks forward
through time
adrenaline minds heat--
          boiling          we....      explode      ....in­to everything
Dematerializing
into quarks quaking
primal energies of the universe

          Orbiting each other
          the rest of existence
                 orbits us

& we dance--(left--right--right--left)...
                twirl
        forming worlds within other planes within

& we dance--(to--our--once--beating--hearts)...
          beating hearts
              echo
throughout this light
                 we have
                embraced.
Here's a conversation I had with Maighdlin Maureen Kelly...... verbatim.
Dec 2011 · 596
New, yet familiar II
Brycical Dec 2011
Some aspects of the world
vary...

Yet many tend to forget
the rhythm the world
ruminates.

Cyclical vibrations
rotate--
dance off and on
simultaneously.
Everything arrives
and leaves
and arrives
and leaves
again &
again
& again.
Dec 2011 · 853
New, yet familiar
Brycical Dec 2011
Some aspects of the world
remain static....

One cannot help but experience
pangs of deja-vu
as their conscious energies walk
through this spiral timeline
dressing the sphere we call home.

We are created from all the energies which we are born into.
Stands to reason
all the answer sought
lay within
as we are created from all the energies which we are born into.
Dec 2011 · 1.0k
Word Murder
Brycical Dec 2011
Let’s ****** all the words
social norms dictate we use.

I’ll drown “beautiful,”
you slit “relationship’s” wrists

We can tag-team
the execution of everyone’s
favorite; “love.”
Do you want to use the chainsaw
                  or piranha tank?

We will gleefully
                 beat the **** out of—
   stab mercilessly —
whimsically hang—
                            frolic & fire upon—
             turn up the heat on—
                         keep the electric coursing through—
dance, continuing to pour gasoline over—

each *******
overwrought
dead-eyed
limp
word

until the populace begs us to invent more.
And we will.
Only a few.
We'll cackle as we toss the useless
words away,
saving the best
for the language we're inventing for ourselves.
The end's a little....meh, I think.
Dec 2011 · 785
Float on by
Brycical Dec 2011
I float on by
I float on by
up up away in spaces
beyond the planes
of existence
& when I cry
I wish this time
would speed up
we just
don’t know
where I’ve been
or how far I’ll go
because
I float on by
I float on by
Confined by my thoughts
as I want to stop
this elongation
patiently racing
forcing destinations
into place when
people’s faces
are shadowed
shallow traces
of waters carving
the canyons within myself
drowning
I float on by
I float on by
Not sure about the title. Greatly inspired/influenced by "Learn from this Mistake" by Down.
Dec 2011 · 2.7k
Grinch Christmas Fuck You
Brycical Dec 2011
I am called a scrooge
as I dislike this greedy
grimy "holiday" of gorging
gratuitously on cookies dipped in mashed potatoes.
People grabbing & gouging
for electronic pop culture distractions
to celebrate the "birth" of a baby
from a lady who claimed to be a ******.
Everyone expects something
to be given, pressure permeates
those souls who wait 'till last minutes eve
as laborers looking for reprieves of this
audacious onslaught of wild eyed drooling
consumers
while I shutter at home watching TV's screaming
Why wait 'till the "holidays"
when you could have gotten that anytime?

Kids with detailed lists of wants make parents
feel like **** if the money's not there--
traveling to visit relatives the family cares little about
while everyone sends fake happy cards espousing
happy scenes of fireside matching sweaters next to a
tree cut from outside brought in--
a metaphor for the biannual church families
dressed up to sing hymns and drink wine.
So you can call me a scrooge,
or even a grinch,
I don't really give a ****,
cause I've been giving gifts
consistently loving thy fellow man.
Dec 2011 · 1.3k
Weightless II
Brycical Dec 2011
I look past your face—
traveling deeper inside
through your consciousness
passing the galaxies in your eyes
farther beyond—
abstract psychedelic dimensions
of understanding in your brain
surpassing—
our comprehension
of time,
words
& the divine
as I continue traveling
to the vast, farthest
parts
of you
where there is
just a weightless
Nirvana of nothing…

Here, there’s just a void,
devoid of any life,
or, remnants of
sound.


There is
complete, nothing.

There is more copacetic bliss here
than any imaginary world,
or ***** fantasy
we’ve created.
Here's the companion piece. http://hellopoetry.com/poem/weightless-1
Dec 2011 · 653
For You, My dear.
Brycical Dec 2011
I have created this fire flower,
blue, just for your visual pleasure.
It sprouts from the cloth ground,
electric stems reach out to touch
a vacant sky.

For you, my dear
this flower pollinates
the cloth soil with small
blue flames where more
fire flowers will sprout,
all of their electric stems
reaching for the sky.

Soon, my dear
their smoke will
combine, forming clouds
in the sky,
shaped like rabbits chasing tigers.

And for you, my dear,
these clouds run
into a cave, at the edge
of this wondrous burning garden
where a single pearl dwells.
But this is no ordinary pearl,
nay, this round, virtuous gem
knows everything;
secrets to all worlds from the smallest
of atoms inspired by your eyes
to the ancient languages
first known to this world’s civilizations
where I learned words
that mean more than just
“beauty,” “magnificent”
& “vibrant”
just for you,
my dear.
Brycical Dec 2011
A primal prima nocta scream
bursts the clouds
as I spin around spin around
I fight the urge to pound my head
against the wall
as a voice calls my name
& I feel the shame from ages ago
it echoes it echoes it echoes again
friends laughing as I fall with an empty bottle in my hand

I stand down
fall up
take a bow
But how do I how do I
how
do I
fly
away from here?

How do I
how do I
how do
I fly
away
from here
without my time piece

Headlights suddenly blind me
as I’m dancin’ in the streets
Tryin’ to flee this rhythm
this rhythm
Carelessly
derelicts speak  
to the pain I scream
& the beating the beating the beating of my heart
I just wish I could fall up to the stars…
This was dug up from perhaps..... 2 years ago? Something like that.
Dec 2011 · 1.7k
Weightless
Brycical Dec 2011
200 miles away
connected by VNV Nation
we speak of stars
we speak of space
& I just want to be weightless
with you.


We wrap our words in time machine
blankets to worlds we’ve never been.
Man, they don’t even exist in this scene
but we’ve begun to vacation there to see
the stars in space stationed there where
we can just be weightless there
                               be weightless there
                                       be weightless there


I want to take you by the hand,
& float on into our sonic plans
to meet next week
& fly inside
each other’s stripes
while the entire world just wonders why
or how these psychedelic titans imbibe
so much inspiration from their color blind mind’s eye…
the echoes
              echoes
                   of each other’s smile
reminds me of the stars
once in a while
because I just want to be weightless
                       weightless
                                  weightless with you.
Rhythm and feel influenced greatly from Pink Floyd's "Echoes."
Brycical Dec 2011
The clock strikes ten
when the wind winds
around the wooden
frame.

Around the top
a bow bows
as the leaves blow
into the southern midnight...

It will not budge,
lying in a pile
of refuse refusing to
be rattled.

In the distance,
carried through the air
several tears tear
the silence--

The memory of when
the dove dove into
the glass is
too much, too much to handle.
Dec 2011 · 908
Freud's Business Card
Brycical Dec 2011
Sigmund Freud*
****** Frustration
*******
Doting Mom
Brycical Dec 2011
Oh great electric melancholia--
your hands clutch my heart,
muffled beats
of sacred al-
--SPITS--

There's some ******' art.
Nov 2011 · 900
In Confidence
Brycical Nov 2011
People want to tell me secrets—
      in grocery store check outs,
             bus stations…
                  funerals—
               ad infinitum.


In a delusional state—
         my own grandmother
   tells me she’s contemplating
                 suicide.


A friend told me I give off
something that makes
people feel safe.

I told them
      Ted Bundy
had the same
           thing.
On one hand, I'm not a fan of the ending, on another hand, it has some charm. Thoughts?
Nov 2011 · 891
Bless your friends...
Brycical Nov 2011
Volo pro totus meus amicitia vivo grate ,
per optimus fortuna quod sapiens amicitia.
Nov 2011 · 2.5k
A single red hare
Brycical Nov 2011
Runs through a sunbeam.
A single red hare
Burning the ground he dashes past.
A single red hare
Jumps to the sky
And the ground creates a crater.
A single red hare
Flies through the forest—
Every tree aflame.
When he goes through the forest
He gives the trees their dance.
A single red hare
Dives into a black hole
In the ground
Looking for a wall
To break the barrier
Of hell.
Nov 2011 · 1.1k
US
Brycical Nov 2011
US
The Beatles said
it’s gonna be alright.

43 years later and look
at this place—
a rusty
steel fortress
surrounded by the idea of a wall.

Everyone’s afraid
the bloodthirsty
islamic extremists
are clamoring to get in.  

Drips of gasoline have
killed
what little power
the flowers had.    

Red elephants
& blue donkeys
neighing at each other
is the only entertainment
on the 3D Telly.

Children are forced
to pick one—
then support
said animal for the rest
of their lives
with t-shirts and books.

Nobody is allowed to have
multiple lovers
or **** a Muslim.

Someone once said
our only freedoms
were “paper or plastic?”
& “liberal or conservative.”

If anyone questions
said choices
or
the federal religion of God
they’re branded unpatriotic
& a granola nut.

It’s merely frowned upon
to drink neat whisky
or have a beer before noon.
but smoke a little plant
& that’s 5-10.

No one’s considered an adult
until they’re $20,000 in debt
for student loans
& been divorced once.

Not a soul
remembers
what happened
to the people here before
US.
Brycical Nov 2011
We open
our--brains &
the echo--
of       the         stars
reverberate       into
      our      visionary
           psyche.
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