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12.2k · Nov 2013
A Surreal Picnic with You
Brycical Nov 2013
Time flies like a baby fruit fly to a banana
buzzing through a brand new day through the fractal lakes
cleansing my body in peppermint amethyst vibrations
as the gyrations of the water ripple and drip down my back and waist
tickling the skin into submission--
I'm on a love mission feeling the splish-splash nefelibata mind
within my glowing gold-hazel eyes as I realize my potential.
The world isn't simply my oyster
my voice can make a difference
if I wish and believe me I've kissed Aladdin's lamp
but my mind is filled with vagary so I plant the seeds
in my magic garden and watch them grow--
burst through the ground and glowing
some like emerald embers
and others like electric chalcopyrite
as my third-eye shines and pops calico corn
crackling in the back the ideas simmer on the grill
near the chilled ZuZu Juju honeydew wine
while the electric blue hip panther cat croons
away on her guitar in ancient star languages saeng
when we were all just haranguing through the ONE-light
all bright sun's right to shine a vine of fire rays
into our future past selves
now aligned with burning designs of moons, suns and AUMS.
The animal pixie band manipulates the sounds around us--
the cicadas sing a lotus chorus while the tiger-painted rabbits rapidly
strum rainbow hieroglyphs on their magic harps
while the jazz sax racoons all dressed in jasper suede jackets
and backwards newsboy caps
play a theta vibration so meditatively
we dance in digambara dream catcher trance
of enhanced meraki enchanted atoms
and cells boiling in passionate blood.

After all the eating and dancing we play in the clay mud
recreating our animal forms and budding faces blooming
and swooning as our winged auras sling us
into the dusk sky
to sway and zoom in the rain.
later we enter Father Sky's cloud castle
for a peaceful night curled up by the azurite lightning fireplace
roasting marmalade maple marshmallows
with those rasta angel fellows token
on the diviner's sage sippin mugwort tea.
And as we third eye-gaze into and through each other
seeing our past and future time tubes
aligning into a sacred golden flower sphere,
we giggle like silly fox children
we've forgotten hours have left our pockets
cause to us it only seems like seconds have gone by...
10.8k · Jun 2014
Mind/Body Time Warp
Brycical Jun 2014
My body
mind's lobby
old-time-y lobotomy.
*Surfing kaleidoscope time waves,
baking green tree eurythmy cookies,
singing campfire folky-tale lullabies.
We enjoy tasting dawn-squash memories.
We feast,
wheat honey almond pancakes,
feels like deja-vu.
Green Tea gurgle screams--
the moment is lost.

And in an instant I see we've traveled millenia.
9.4k · Jul 2012
The Benefits of Fuck
Brycical Jul 2012
My mom says "frick"
or "fiddlesticks"
even when kids aren't around.
She's holding in
some of that pure, unfiltered rage
each time a plate is dropped
or toe is stubbed.
If only she'd just shout "OH ****!"
she wouldn't lash out
at grandma or sob uncontrollably later.

Someone once said to me, "*******!"
and I was happy.
It means they won't ****** me in my sleep
because they expressed verbal and not physical rage.
I was happier when someone told me "go **** yourself"
because I went home and did just that.

Speaking of pleasure,
the act of *******
burns between 85-250 calories,
improves sleep & your immune system.
Google it.

I've been ******;
a realization &/or learning experience
having gone broke without a way to pay rent
resulting in the lesson of moving back in with the parents.

We can get ****** up.
A couple too many tokes &/or shots of gin &/or punches to the face.
We learn the perils of excess.
In third grade, I was ****** up by a group of 6-7 kids.
I learned I never want to experience THAT
uncomfortable feeling again.

Why is **** such a bad word again?
8.6k · Nov 2014
Live & Orgasm
Brycical Nov 2014
Sing songs of parsley vivacious ***** jazz.                                    

Dance that moon hoodoo rattlesnake tango.

Play ancient games like enter the mysterious iridescent doorway.

Smoke your poetry books.                    

Remember to forget your cell phone in the shower drain.

Cauterize your family pictures onto magazines and newspapers.          

Sail across the ghost waters of unforgiven memories.

Throw yourself into your heartstrings.                                                    

String yourself onto your nirvana sphere.            

Lick the soul.

Burn square enclosures.          

Paint with your mind's mouth instead of the hands.                      

Live and ******.
8.5k · May 2014
On Woman's Rights
Brycical May 2014
When the topics of
birth, birth control, *******, periods, moon-blood
or any other "issue" involving female bodies

arrive in conversation,

men just need to shut the **** up
*Men may listen, even take notes.
But ultimately, men need not speak on things
they cannot possibly experience.
8.3k · Jul 2012
I don't want to live Forever
Brycical Jul 2012
Immortality
is such an idiotic
idea. **** that ****.

Thoughts of prolonging
life through vegetables &
tea are greedy. sighs

I do those things cause
they taste delicious, & I
work out to feel good.

But I drink, often.
I smoke occasionally.
My body's been through hell.

I'd rather die tomorrow
than live to be like
100 years old.

My mind shutters
to think what this world will be
like at that point. sighs

I don't want to live too long,
I'll know when my time
is up, hopefully.
I do enjoy living and love everyone though.
7.7k · Mar 2014
Mind Pirates Sea Shanty
Brycical Mar 2014
Smoke tokes out of the monkey's head, embers embellish empathic light enlightening gypsy nymphs from miles around, a glowing lighthouse haven heaven in nirvana massages lavender bubbles upon pores restoring strength to warriors of the rainbow tribe."

Wind rustles with us...

Stay grounded, you're found before you're even lost. Some get tossed and turned by the sea, but a smooth one never created a skilled pirate with third-eye versatile switch-blade heartbeat ink scribed on blood-vessel maps, following the soul tattoos and taboo time scars along with the azurite lightning stars shooting in our brain.*

Time stops sometimes...

Seasons change DNA re-arranges as we grow goin' with our own flow down the subconscious ocean, sometimes watchin' sunsets into a haze of sweet *** sweat and green cigarette peacetime sufi twirling our conscious to the north star crown chakra.

**Love is. Always.
7.1k · Jul 2012
Intense
Brycical Jul 2012
I think it's my eyes.
The glowing hazle stare
blankly piercing through
whatever bubbles you've shielded
yourself with.
Arms crossed means you're defensive,
raised tone towards the end of a sentence
means you're lying
but when your lips scrunch together
you're holding back something.

Maybe it's
my thought process.
One second
I'm talking about polar bears
celebrating birthdays with ******* and hexagrams
when I shift
to a rant about my self empowerment
through meditation and how astral travel
might be real.  

Perhaps I'm too comfortable
with myself for you to handle.
I don't give a **** how tangled my hair is
or what weird religious doctrines you follow.
Let's have a conversation,
not an unruly **** measuring contest.

I truly love you,
and all my mild frustration
and slight agitation is radiating
from a place in my heart
that tells me I want you to succeed the most.
6.9k · Jul 2011
Goddess
Brycical Jul 2011
Goddess of virility suckles me
to ******—

Her legs stiffen…
to acute angles.
Toes, ballerina firm
make her
body—
                         levitate from the bed.


A smile reveals…fangs
the tips of which
          are barely…touching
                   my ear.
The lizard tongue hisses in ecstasy
revealing ancient—spiritual…bliss
mystics could only
           speculate of.


Her anaconda legs
wrap—
        around my back
as her fingernails
           embed into
         my            spine.
   When I yank
Her hair
                    Her             eyes
Scream                   inside                out.

Our bodies—
Swimming             in
An ocean      of         ravenous
                  Liquids pulsating from       our pores.
Sopping hair clings
          to our        foreheads        
we suddenly realize—
                 A new shape is            invented.      
We make a sound         so         primal
inside each other’s mouth
as her jaws snap down
to my neck—
both bodies rigor-mortis stiffen
       as the mountains collapse around us
and        the   sky is ripped open      as a tsunami
billows down into a wave of exhaustion.
The wind cradles us,
Back to the earth
    We split,
Admiring a new continent
We created.
      Our limp bodies—
numb from the velocity and suggestions
resign to the crater
we call a bed.
We smile, simultaneously,
looking past
our brains,
realizing…
in         this        moment
we, are one.
6.6k · Aug 2011
BPD
Brycical Aug 2011
BPD
We get it—
nobody paid attention to you
growing up.
Now the reward is attention,
lots of it—
From police, therapists, and a family
that doesn’t understand.
They want to help
but you make it hard—
The anger isn’t directed at you,
merely the troubling revelation
truth is whatever garner’s the most eyeballs.
What are we supposed to believe?
Even the cutting you implore
isn’t linked to depression.
Everyone wants to help,
but you have to want  it as much
as the attention you desire.
Brycical Oct 2013
Todd Totally Toad

Finger Smell McGee

E-I-E-I *******

Captain Sally Potato

Blackhole Sound *****

The Glass Candy Imagination Man

Dew Snot

One-Eyed Duce Leg of the Cement Dimension

The Guy Who Makes Sailors, Pirates and Fisherprice men shake their Buoy.

The Saccharine Snake of Compatibility

Yeti Jenny ******

Johnny Loch Ness **** Deck.

Chicken ***** McGillicutty

Blanket Face

Rev. 3D Trigonometry

The Little Pistachio ****.

The Killer Doll That Only Exists in My Alternate Universe's Self's Imagination.
6.0k · Apr 2013
A Brief Note on Puns
Brycical Apr 2013
Someone once said,
"A good pun is it's own reword."

But a bad pun
makes me want to strangle a newborn kitten
and then dropkick it into the Cretaceous Period
where it will hopefully be eaten by a Velociraptor
then **** out in a pool of molten lava
and preserved under the earth for the rest of time
but forgotten and ignored by all.
6.0k · Aug 2011
Happy Little Cupcake Store
Brycical Aug 2011
Quaint
pink curtains and tablecloths.
White walls.
The sugary smell of almonds, pistachio
and butterscotch skip around the room,
playing hopscotch and Mary Mack.

The display is impressive,
I can smell each grain of sugar
in these petit cupcakes and dollops of icing.

And then a little girl wails!
Mommy won't buy
      her     anymore
                    sweet        treats.
Bawling--
         the girl does an angry-stomp-dance-
    and then a woman, livid--
storms          up to the counter.
I said half dozen almond biscotti.
I can't take these to my book club.
Isn't anyone here competent?
Her booming voice has no effect
on the lone,
tired African-American woman behind the counter.
She seems disassociated from the present chaos.
The dark circles under her eyes
and the surrounding pursed lip wrinkles say everything.

Excuse me, but I've been waiting
on a refill of the complimentary coffee
for over ten minutes now  
             an uptight gent in a business suit complains.
When the woman behind the counter
pulls out out a shotgun--
        
            there is silence.

This ain't what I wanted
she whimpers just before
the weapon gracefully slides
under her chin--
     --!BAM!--

As I walk out the door,
I wonder how long it will
take for someone to realize
that's not red icing or sprinkles
on the cupcakes.
5.9k · Apr 2012
a line
Brycical Apr 2012
Sometimes there’s a line
that we have to respect
because we can’t forget
those who raised us
made us

Sometimes there’s a line
we cannot ignore
because of certain morals
we were born with
live within

Sometimes there’s a line
we shouldn’t cross, but do
because of who we are
as we don’t realize
everyone’s line
is measured
differently.

Sometimes there’s
a line
that nobody thought
to cross
until…someone does
& then
the masses either crucify or celebritize
depending on pop-culture references.

   There’s always a line
       somewhere,
         we just
         have to
         choose
         where
            we
          want
          to be
        aligned.
5.5k · Jan 2012
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.
5.2k · Feb 2012
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.
5.2k · Nov 2011
Heartbeat
Brycical Nov 2011
sacred drum thumping
ancient rhythms
living eternally
throughout earth
the sound births
a percussion
of subconsciousness.
Brycical Mar 2015
Banana splits lickedy his spican-and-span throbbing
peninsula clock jar.
The scar from his far faux **** ignited his beating
hexagonal calendar.
Which is used to peruse the jujubees metallic books in the public
libation crazy train station.
His ecstatic adulation exemplifies why diamonds are
a girl gorilla's favorite soap.
His floating cubed boat is on a remote desert
impala growling at the turquoise toilet.  
But his spoiled toys are annoyed about the choice between life or
demonstrative sponsored concerts by budweiser.
Woeful razor beaked birds marvel at absurd his Salvador
Daoist Dharma surreal cereal caramel karma flakes.
I do and do not own the rights to this poem that didn't exist until just now.
4.3k · Jun 2014
Healing the Peace Pirates
Brycical Jun 2014
Connecting,
tribes on the cusp--
the lost family...
merging thought patterns
of old & new paradigms
into a geometric shipibo song
singing in moonlit sky,
smoke gray mauve clouds
are painted into the frozen lake background.

We paint
a new paradise--
together
at the table
on a sacred indigo candlelit map map
for people to set sail
on their journey through the seas of skies of their minds
guiding familiar souls
to speak their treasure light again.

We are the Indigo Pilgrims,
soul brothers reunited
after the frozen season thaws,
pushing on toward the place
where mind-flowers commence their bloom
as herb and sage slowly burns throughout the day
as the smoke dotes across the landscape
like dancing hieroglyphic clouds.
this poem is a sequel to this poem... perhaps there will be more adventures at the table...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/461394/we-arrived-at-the-perfect-time/
Brycical Dec 2013
Scraggly curl hair bounces in the air
wagging with whisky eyes breezy pleasing the eclectic electric hectic now mind
like finding a papaya inside an oyster
battery powered like a pomegranate passionfruit flower growing and glowing
around my trinity heart with the noise of a sphere's galactic ******!

Crystal Citrine Mountains provide water fountains of sunlight
as so tye-dye t-shirt hip-cat hippos smokin' coconut shisha bathe in barrels
of bourbon.
Lion snakes spit words of worlds hurling nebulous timeline's spiraling
and crashing and splashing baptism ripples together painting Pollack Splatters
with the aroma of Byrd Jazz Jam on rye-whisky bread.

Fractal Berries served by the Far Out Faerrie Ferryman Skeletan with bejeweled emerald eyes
winks while I read in the reeds panting in pan-flutes while water rabbits scamper
into clay enclaves to bathe in pinecone designed sand-tubs.

The hieroglyphic phoenix twists and skip-scats neon green vinyl
turning the wind inside out to x-ray flames of fireworks.
Brycical Dec 2012
What a sweet/savory masterpiece!
Always thought I would ask
for lobster as my last meal*
but your juicy succulence
touched my stomach
in naughty places
and now I cannot stop thinking of you!

I think it goes without saying
that you're the best tasting burger on the planet
despite the fact that I have yet to try
all the burgers on the planet.
*should I find myself in a situation that allows me the ability to ask for one.
Brycical Jun 2012
Wouldn't it be weird if
JFK was reincarnated
as Monica Lewinski?

Buddha probably
ate better butter
than Ghandi.  

If we keep fighting
the divine fellows
we pray to
will be too afraid to return.
This isn't ******* Highlander.
Christ, what a hilariously insane movie.
They probably show that
to people who drink caviar & say things
like "pip pip!"


Either way,
we're all related.
  

Otherwise than that,
let's all be
LOVE.

Except for people
who commit genocide.
May they be reincarnated
as ******'s final excretion
as he killed himself;
including ******.
3.6k · Jan 2013
Reunite
Brycical Jan 2013
She brought me to the devil—
swept the leaves off my brain
& we jumped in the pile.
After rolling a few
& burning
we bathed in wine
washing our minds
with chicken soup for the soul.

He appeared in the stars
& we smiled—
absorbing his card
through a lovely osmosis
supposing the black roses
hiding behind his back
were cut by a queen of swords.

We skipped roped
w/ a noose
cuttin’ loose our useless
baggage by tossing them over
a stony cliff.
As the devil lit a cigarette s/he mumbled
something about a conscious shift.

The devil gave us a gift—
It was a skull
inside a prince’s disk
shaped discus change purse.
“I bring you death as a parting
gift to show where to put the change.”

We laughed & giggled
as we played with plasma—
that’s liked fire cubed.
with a little play and help from MMK.
Brycical Jun 2012
Cups runneth over
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.

Men & women parade the streets
with whimsical abandoned
swaying bodies
smiling,
like they just got laid--
or are about to.

******* bathrooms roar
while marijuana balconies cackle--
even the folks staying in
have their music turned up
so nobody can hear them *******.

Barefoot indulgence
and tropical dresses flowing
in the midnight air--
even the cops don't care,
this is business.
Every whoop and hollar
is a dollar in their pocket.

Each vehicle blaires
a different song
chaos to the ears
becomes rhythm
for the body-
shots don't need to be in glasses,
grinding is the traditional greeting.

The young come for the atmosphere,
the older for the work release...
everyone is reckless on the weekend,
all the bars runneth over
and over
& over.

A ritualistic hedonism
leads to a collective sleep
that slowly, slowly
overtakes us all
as we slowly fade,
for a few hours until

Cups runneth over again
and over
& over
from absinthe to zinfandel.
Brycical Sep 2013
For years I've been trying to write
something that would cause the earth to shake--
maybe even slightly tip it off its axis.
Not because it possesses any eloquent grandeur
with words like "cataclysm" or "surreptitious"
nor due to any celeb-ritory status
that may befall my unkempt and ghostly pale person.

                      I just want people to think!

From the moment most of us
are pushed from our mother's dark, watery womb
it's like we're given a hardhat and a pick,
then told to find some gold in the mine
because if you want to keep working in the mine
you have to pay
and then as we try to explain that we're uneducated about mining
because we were just birthed we are told not to worry
because there are teachers who will educate us about the mine
and every so many days we're tested on what we learned about the mine
all the while being told to forget not about the gold in the mine
and sometimes we get a little tired or bored of looking for gold
so we're given a book to read about some guy named Mr. Brahmallah Siddhartahweh Christ
along with a few cigarettes, beer and lunch meat to relax
for a few minutes before it's time to get back to work to look for gold in the mine
to pay to look for gold in the mine
and lord help you if you can't pay to work in the mine because you need to work in the mine
to work in the mine.

                                                      Confused?­ That's the point...
Now, the metaphor above is a crude illustration
of what I'm talking about,
but I have confidence you understand what's gnawing at me,
AND what should be at you too.

                     Where is there time to think??

Even in scientific and philosophical occupations
there isn't much thinking these days.
Many take science as law
the same way extreme, right wingers from any religion
take their "religious doctrine" as law.
Our politics, technology and even reading is polluted
with derision and division into different schools of thought
from a Conservative Team Edward Apple supporting Griffendor Christian
to a Liberal Hufflepuff PC using Team Jacob Buddhist.
Now I understand why all these new agers
keep referencing The Matrix.

                           WHAT IS REAL!?
That must be a decent explanation as why people go insane;
suffocating on all the weighty labels
forcefully pinned to their soul.

And yet...
more people, like me,
are desperately clawing away at these labels,
attempting to find a little fresh air,
perhaps filled with the smell of paint,
graphite, charcoal, clay, **** and natural body pheromones
while sounds of music, chanting, cheers, sobbing, silence, giggling and *******
echo in the breathing room
as we feel the grass beneath our feet, wind matriculating through our hair, another warm and loving body embracing ours with cool water trickling down our backs...
People like me
wishing to be metaphorically, figuratively, theologically and psychologically digambara  
subconsciously evolving from sadhu to avadhuta
          preaching anekantavada
           while simultaneously revealing it all stems from ONE!

But...
many of us are caught in a dilemma best expressed by E.B. White:

[Arising] in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world, [making] it hard to plan the day.

These days, to the masses working in the mine,
if you're trying to improve the world you're a kook or a traitor,
just ask the SnowMannings.
If you try enjoying the world you're labeled lazy.
We all just want to be       FREE!!

Of course, Bill Hicks once said,
If you think you're free, trying going somewhere without ******* money.  

And when you THINK about that,
you start to get confused, right?
Maybe your head starts to hurt, right?
Because when you THINK about that,
and all the supposed enlightened people
from Siddhārtha Gautama who resigned from his royal trappings
to Yeshua HaNotzri who renounced material possessions with a needle
while the passive warrior Mahatma Gandhi thought western civilization a good idea.

Why are most children discouraged from being artists, farmers and the next far out thinkers?
Because      there’s        no          money        in         ­ it!  
Again, we’re back in the mine looking for gold.
But what would happen if you stopped?
What would happen if you got in the mine cart and said “**** it,”
then went careening down the shaft,
whirling and twirling faster and faster enjoying the ride!

But now I’m positioned in another quandary;
                       SOLUTIONS!  

While people like myself may have a few ideas
I think they are impossible to share at the moment
Because the majority of the population is too lazy
and complacent to do anything.
First we need to awaken!
First we have to get mad like Howard Beale!
We have to collectively reject the current frequency
and do like Tim Leary where we “turn on, tune in and drop out.”

Ok,
Let’s take five,
maybe more.
And when we reunite
let’s hash out some solutions,
**** out what does and doesn’t work.
If you like this, please share.
3.1k · Aug 2015
More of a Rand than a Poem
Brycical Aug 2015
Dear Cecil the Lion,

What happened to you was a terrible thing.
What you represent most assuredly will live onward.
The  ****** and dishonest way you were lured out
of the animal sanctuary to have a bullet put through you
was a tragedy.  

But,
you can go unfuck yourself.
To be honest,
your death ranks just above a smooshed fly or mosquito.
After I heard the news of your death,
I finished taking a **** and went about my day.

I'm glad people are upset about something. Its time people started getting mad as hell & stopped taking it. BUT, maybe we should reconsider our priorities for a second the next time we decide to erupt in a collective outrage.

Whatever happened to #blacklivesmatter?
Oh right, they're still trying to put an end to racism in many areas
where some police are still under the impression it's the 1950's.

Hey...how's the whole world hunger thing going?
Well, it's probably not helping what with the whole food wasting bit
the majority of us practice.
And yes, I know there will always be someone starving somewhere for some reason due to a variety of circumstances, but that doesn't mean we gotta sit around in apathy over it.

What ever happened with all those troops
we were so excited to support when it came time
to defending our country? Oh right...

How's the whole woman's rights thing going?

One more question; do we still care about education or is that something we've just given up thinking about?

Look, I realize the aforementioned list of
#blacklivesmatter,
world hunger,
support the troops,
woman's rights
& education
are weighty topics in & of themselves with lots of intricacies.
And I understand they're not going to be solved in a day.
But, these big five all have one thing in common;
people.

George Carlin once spoke about people who "always gotta be saving something" from animals to the planet,
"We don't even know how to take care of each other & we want to save the ******* planet?!"

And I get it, there are those out there that probably care more about animal lives than human lives, which is cool.
Hey, if that's your prerogative, I'll buy everyone who feels this way
a ticket to the jungle & you can start doing your part sooner,
and much more quietly, especially when some of us are trying to eat.

Because I swear to whatever you hold most sacred & holy,
if one more person tries to tell me
to stop eating meat because it's ******,
I'm going to wrap my hand around their neck & squeeze,
shaking them as I shout "Plants are living beings too you ******* *******!"

I get it.
Some can feel that deeply when they eat meat & it makes them uncomfortable to chow down on the flesh of something else.
But why are we having THAT discussion
when someone else somewhere is starving?!

After we get the world hunger thing under control,
then we can talk about the morality of what we put in our mouths.
After we prove that we can take care of ourselves and each other,
then we can move on to whatever animals are left.
And it case it wasn't obvious,
and to those of you who've read this far, once again I say,

Unfuck you Cecil.
Brycical Oct 2013
electric ***** static shocks jump starts the heart into hyperspace pumping blood into the veins of time folding inside and outside and on top of each other like a nebulous star splash comet tail clashes in a warm hug we glow like embers in ashes......

warmth spreads like a slug of whisky in the chest, nothing is expected except it is, mind's eyes multiply like a disco argus tree sees all spheres and dimensions slowing and glowing like aurora auras in dawn smiles like the hieroglyphic clouds we graffiti all over cause we just wanna have some fun!

Aw man, I'm not done. We paint the sky to make it rain good vibrations drinking aqua patience and cheshire cat laughter tartlets I'm ecstatic to be part of this ecosystem with a unjumbled mind flying high in the all-ness of the AUM ONE. Cause we all one, and that's Awe-some. A wonderful warm place with All sons daughters mothers fathers brothers sisters sinners, just humons, 2gether, 1AUM makes words redundant.
3.0k · Sep 2012
Clense
Brycical Sep 2012
Cleaning up my thoughts with some sleep,
itemized & organized thanks to my dreams.

Cleaning up my thoughts with a mornin' bath,
last night's scents just never last.

Cleaning up my thoughts from the fridge,
uneaten words will be my nourishment.

Cleaning up my thoughts from the trash,
odious memories from the past.

Cleaning up my thoughts in wash 'n dryer,
to maintain color & getting brighter.

Cleaning up my thoughts with some smoke,
a lazy sunday daydream makes room for more.

Cleaning up my thoughts when I take a walk ,
jogging with my brain so one day I can grokk.

Cleaning up my thoughts with exercise,
working out the muscles & the third eye.

Cleaning up my thoughts through meditation,
sending stress away & on a vacation.
3.0k · Jul 2011
Unity
Brycical Jul 2011
In one brief moment, everything changes.
For a split second, thought becomes something distant.
Sensation is full, yet innocence gone.

A feeling of nothing, but everything.
Paternal elders understand, yet shy away.
They know how everything works in their head.

Brief, pure bliss attained through primitive acts.
Maternal elders understand, but blush
like it is something to be ashamed of.

Higher powers tend to condemn this void,
but all show what this signifies, even though
they don’t like to speak of it. One pure word.

Unity.
I haven't touched this poem in many, MANY years. Any comments, concerns critiques are welcome.
2.9k · Mar 2015
Trickster's Mind Garden
Brycical Mar 2015
Ha-Ha, Joker's laugh, wildcard coyote
dances a maniac tango, joking
in the midst of elemental chaos--
giggling at the lava, way hot
watching the castle's mortar dissolve, doting
the cacophonous crumbling symphony akin to Amadeus.
Ha-ha, joker's laugh, wildcard coyote
ignites a spliff with incandescent embers, smoking--
up under falling stars getting higher than the Himalayas
and more enlightened as the midnight parades off
into a translucent, steaming ashy bayou, hoping
there's a bite to eat before the heat waves doff
the darkness completely into blinding, hokey
sunbeams reflecting in snow, that cuckoo tune never lost,
Ha-ha, joker's laugh from that wildcard coyote.
a rondeau
2.8k · Oct 2015
Life's Facebook Profile
Brycical Oct 2015
Overview:

-Birthday: ∞

-Studied everything at The School of...

-Lives in ∞

-Gender: Seriously?

-Religious Views: Tolerant Chaos

-Political Views: Ambivalently Apathetic Anarchy

Family And Relationships:
-Relationship: It's complicated

-Family Members: Everyone Ever

Details About You:

I am. We are. It is. Impossible to forget but hard to remember. Remember that time you found some money on the ground? That was me. Remember that time you got so sick you thought you puked your actual brains out? Sorry about that.

I love you go to hell.

To be honest I'm still surprised I'm alive after all the crazy **** I've done to myself over the years from nuclear ****** bombs to snorting the ground up bones of warring people and all that jazz. Oh yeah, not to mention those times I've caught asteroids with my face.


Favorite Quotes:**

Wind, Farts, *******, Laughter.

Life Events:

****...where do I start?
2.8k · Nov 2012
Helping Hands
Brycical Nov 2012
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.
2.7k · Dec 2013
Medicine
Brycical Dec 2013
If laughter is the best medicine
then this explains why there are so many unhealthy people.
Too many people got the SAD's Condition;
                 It arrives usually within 2-4 weeks of compromising one's inner child after crushing up      
                 some sparkly dreams and flushing them in the *******.

                                        Symptoms include:
                1) A black-hole bitter disposition
                 2) Snapping at little things like having to wait 5 in a checkout line
                    or making dramatic sighs after repeating a question a few times.
               3) Reminiscing about terrible things and never forgiving and  
                   letting  go, like having your mom sign your life away to a cult or  
                   being told that your dear sweet Aunt who helped raise you kept
                   looking for you in the hospital every time your name was called
                   even though you never saw her because your family thought it  
                   best you kept your distance or hearing the morose silence of a
                   stillborn newborn.
                4) Finding your serenity at the bottom of a bar room floor inside a
                   gin bottle.
                5) Finding your solace in a married woman who eats all kinds
                    of colorful shaped pills for breakfast.
  
                                      


And if a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down,
how much can you add before the medicine loses its flavor?

They say truth is bitter,
yet I find that hard to believe
considering it feels so good to say.
It's like a cinnamon peppermint flavor on the tongue
with an aftertaste of jalapeno tears.

Maybe I'm so used to the processed hydrogenated extra sugar kind
that's why I go right for the pure hard stuff,
and maybe that's why a laugh so much.  
Maybe that's why people consider me a cuckoo fool....
I wrote this poem whilst in my travels through Egypt, but only found this poem recently, amongst some scraps cleaning up and reorganizing.
2.6k · Mar 2013
The Roommate (pt. 2)
Brycical Mar 2013
If I wanted to talk
about the hyper-spiritually-"honest" hippie roommate
who wears his heart on his sleeve and kangols
when he's working
at his cumbersome office
corrupting and invading the minds
of the masses to promote glasses, salad dressing
and laundry detergent,
it would take too much time out of my day
to point out all the hypocritical *******
this meditation obsessed wannabe "writer"
tries to passively fling on others.
He means well, but let' be honest,
all that dope he smokes
probably turned his brain to ashes
as the pile blew away some time ago.

Besides, I'd prefer not to talk about myself.
2.6k · Aug 2012
America: On a Stick
Brycical Aug 2012
You aren't big ****
'till you're on a stick,
not even legitimate
like gator, hotdogs, sausage and chicken.
A stick gets your mouth waterin'
and your tongue lickin'
you can get your veggies on a shish-kabob
and cotton candy handed to you at any sport
or circus,
we even got religious services about servin'
this person on a stick!
Wanna be famous? Get your wish
and put somethin' on a stick--
the get rich quick types stick 'em up their ***
while the rest of us gather
at fairs and carnivals to mindlessly laugh
at jugglers, clowns and ride circular rides.
All the while snackin' on somethin' on a stick.
I don't feel this is finished.
2.5k · Dec 2011
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.
2.5k · Feb 2013
My Roommate (pt. 1)
Brycical Feb 2013
We're very much alike.

Poetry is our inspiration,
we were born writers.
People call us BBQ sauce snobs
wine connoisseurs
and brothers.

But he likes to dance
at night--
in the headlights
when the air pierces the skin.
His deep dark pockets
are an oblivion of cigarettes
and full minis of Jack.
Remind's me of Harpo.

He walks like a snake slithers--
body swaying
and a gleaming mischievous twinkle
in his eye.

We both enjoy crisp, autumn days,
but he prefers them cloudy--
dark.
He says it brings out the color
in the reds and orange leaves jumping off the trees to twist in the breeze.
Listening to stand-up is our solace,
though he says Hicks is god.
I say Carlin

His shadow reminds me of a demon--
the long lost son of Medusa.  

He's not afraid to say what he thinks,
cause he knows he's right.
Sometimes I believe him--
he speaks with such nonchalant confidence.
There's always a needle on his words
swiftly flitting and flickering
like a flame he's flicking off his tongue.
And if his words hurt breaking the skin?
"Don't be such a *****" he'll snarl
before turning the charm back on
with a giggle and ironic wink.

He likes to collect
the faults in others
cause his thinks his **** don't stink.
He keeps reminding me of mine.
He enjoys needling
people.

We've known each other
for a long while.
Seems like longer....
but that's cause my roommate is me.
It's preferable to read the poem with this song in the background...
http://youtu.be/F29Ky5ncefQ
"You Rascal You"
by Hanni El Khatib
2.5k · Oct 2011
I am waiting.
Brycical Oct 2011
waiting in a white room with no furniture
the humming air conditioner
can’t even drown out my thoughts
waiting to go back to maryland
for a hyperbolic death sentence—
to meet with the wonderful hypocrites
who shaped my cynicism
and anxiety
to feast on the last meal
of failure.
waiting to hear back from potential employers
who hold my future in their hands
but prefer to let me stew
waiting for the tears to start falling
I can feel my eyes welling
my lungs lugging every last bit of air
to my heart as it pounds
like an urgent knock at the door
waiting alone
with just my thoughts.
waiting to see the friends
who never got out to see the world
to look at me with delight, hoping
soon I will re-join their ranks
as a mindless tractor mechanic or slurpee filler
waiting for the cheap bottle whisky
in my stomach to regurgitate  
waiting for numbing conversations
about menial tasks and news
like the weather, or something else I can see in front of me.
waiting to be coma.
waiting to see my reflection—
or shadow.
waiting for paper and pen,
waiting for suicide by rhyme at the end.
Brycical Feb 2014
The time’s may have changed,
days aged our bodies
but you are still wholly
yourself, only more
magnanimously
magical, which says
something, because
your oeuvre was such
already.

An aged wine of light
shining like sacred
grapes made of quartz in
the field’s center.
I remember when
you guided me to
the fox. I can still
remember when you
were sprouting—

sacred knowledge to
me in the back of
the school bus. But now…
dots are connecting,
I’m remembering
my fire ether
name. Your knowledge had  
pollinated me—
sure took time

to take root, and ferment,
but now it is
a very good year.  
It’s time to uncork!
A party army
awaits, clad in such
an iridescent
armor armed only
with <3 - shaped  fire

on torches, ready
to burn down rotten
rickety aged
bridges built of dead
green ink-stained wood, all
converging on a
barren cliff so we
may ignite skies and
shine in darkness.
Wrote this a month ago, not sure why I haven't shared it yet.

Was inspired after visiting the newfound family of possibly my oldest friend whom I still share limited contact. How limited? We haven't spoken save for a very brief phone call in almost 9 years.
2.5k · Jun 2013
This morning i was thinking
Brycical Jun 2013
about pictures of bears without any fur, and they look horrendously terrifying. Like ****** space gorillas you see in poorly done sci-fi movies. Do you think panda bears are still the cutest bear without any fur?

I wonder if dragons get lung cancer from all the smoking they do. I'd rather think about a hairless panda bear breathing fire--it's jaws sinking into the underbelly of a mortally wounded dragon and as it starts munching on the dragon pancreas, it accidentally sneezes causing it's lunch to incinerate to ashes.

That's probably why dragons are extinct. Hairless panda bears donned armor, riding horses; questing to eat dragon pancreas.

They also thought amor prevented lung cancer. It was the middle ages, people or animals didn't have modern technology to explain diseases, let alone where babies came from. Except for dragons, and look at how their species turned out.   ****, I'm throwing my phone in the toilet right now.
2.4k · Jun 2014
Cosmic Hub
Brycical Jun 2014
Delicious midnight,
kyanite and citrine crystal bells buzz
& haummm....
Piano notes dance around the room,
some sing silent eurythmy patterns.

An amalgam of pinball gypsy
time travelers colliding--
the timing couldn't have been more perfect
as we rest in the sacred loft
under the metallic ear.

Full Flower Moon
whispers persimmon kisses at 2am.

Here we rest,
a space for the timeless animals,
wounded healers,
soldiers of peace
all seeking a brief respite....
collecting energetic auric heart fire fuel
before we slingshot off in our kaleidoscopic time machines,
candles navigating to the darkest reaches
of outer and inner space.

Here, fear dissolves....

Here, light evolves....
For Jesse, a dear friend and wonderful teacher.
Brycical Sep 2013
We are the change we are searching for. It's no surprise we're having a hard time finding it,
like a trick question the answer's inside.

Some, like me have high expectations we're trying to erase
because they limit the places our minds can go.

And we know it's not to race to conclusions or exclude any info but
like a kid on Christmas our impatience can sometimes take hold. But it's ok, we're humon.

We are youth in revolt of the old ways that are clearly keeping us chained
to the ground like slaves to didactic socio-political religious segregation.

And like me, sometimes we forget that change brings growing pains.
Do you know how much force it takes for a flower to sprout through pavement?

We are growing everyday, that's scary to some, leaving many parents to wonder
why their children aren't driving on the roads they paid to pave and ride on.

It's because WE have our heads higher, in the sky and beyond.
Roads are antiquated when you can fly--dropping the gas pump for light trying for a brighter future with nature as a guide.

Don't get me wrong, it's a long flight and there's going to be lonely low dark parts in the timeline but I find some comfort in knowing I'm going with my own flow on my own ride and no one elses cause then I'm not myself which is where all our pride should lie.

Not on material & wealth, but health, body and mind.
I didn't write this per-say. It's complicated. If you're curious, ask.
2.3k · Mar 2015
Cold Shower
Brycical Mar 2015
Muscles clench like knots on rope
prior to any wintry water droplets
dripping on my scarecrow frame.

There's a moment of cautious pause,
my mind waivers the rest of me--
uncomfortable with the atypical developments
insisting through western culture's handbook
bathing is meant to be relaxing.

I agree.

So after a thoughtful inhale
we dive in.
oo!
The siberian shock of the frigid liquid landing
on warm, pale-rose flesh
slowly erodes with an exhale...
My mercurial movements
and conscious unravelling of the constricting sinews  
offer a peppermint bliss-like salvation!
The chill fades,
water wanders down,
allowing my body to interact with the clear solution,
allowing myself to be and breathe with each cold moment
of wide-eyed cool-headed serenity.
I take cold showers quite frequently but this is the process almost every time.
2.3k · Dec 2015
Password Instructions
Brycical Dec 2015
Thank you for registering for our website. You're almost ready to enter a portal of super awesome fun time vibes that will alter your whole being down to it's genetic core. But before you can see the goods, you need to come up with a password that meets our criteria as follows,*

- Must contain at least one capital letteR

-Needs @ least two $ymbols.

-Should be a minimum length of an Ernest Hemingway novel.

-Add a dash of salt

-You will also need to cover your entire body in sacred mud found only in parts of Mesa, Arizona.

-Written approval from any pets.

-On your webcam record yourself singing the phrase "Lemon trigonometry adversely if but  ***** carrots digital ******* maps" then publish it. You must get at least 537 views within 12 hours.

-Burn all your socks and mail us the ashes.

-Write to your state representative and senator.

-Make an artesian spaghetti sandwich using whole grain golden moon grown quinoa bread and cage free angel hair pasta noodles cooked al dente in a curry sauce with a whisper of coconut oil on each piece of bread and leave said sandwich out by your front door over night.
2.3k · Feb 2015
And The Nominees Are...
Brycical Feb 2015
For Achievement in Editing:
-Julie Williams of the Jefferson County School Board for her attempting to change the AP US History curriculum so that it "should not encourage or condone civil disorder, social strife or disregard of the law [while] instructional materials should present positive aspects of the United States and its heritage."

-Dan Fisher and the "Black Robe Regiment" for their work in banning AP US History in Oklahoma because it "fails to teach American Exceptionalism," whatever the **** that means.

-Creation Museum of Kentucky for their work in "[Bringing] the pages of the Bible to life, casting its characters and animals in dynamic form and placing them in familiar settings. Adam and Eve live in the Garden of Eden. Children play and dinosaurs roam near Eden’s Rivers," because everyone remembers where dinosaurs are mentioned in the bible.

For Achievements in Adapted Screenplay:

-People complaining against #blacklivesmatter and #icantbrethe protests with old tropes like, "How are people supposed to go shopping during the holidays?" or "This is just too inconvenient."

-All the liberals who champion free speech and all the conservatives who want to "stick it to terrorists" yet most if not all of them for not showing any of the Charlie Hedbo cartoons.

-All the political parties, including conservatives and liberals who haven't updated their perception of the world or their talking points beyond 1980's yet sill trot out their gibbligarsh like it's not a polished slice of *******.

For Achievement in Acting, Actress:

-Camille Cosby, wife of now infamous Bill Cosby for at first saying nothing then later defending her husband about the 'alleged' ****** assault allegations by 37 different women (or whatever the number is up to now).

-My mom for pretending to listen whenever I propose solutions to her various anxieties.

-Hillary Clinton for not tearing out the beating heart of her husband or anyone who asks about her husband, even though she probably really wants to but at the same time makes you wonder why she just doesn't divorce the horn dog anyway.

For Achievement in Acting, Actor:**

-McDonald's (because corporations are people) for their work in getting excited that they supposedly serve real food and making patronizing adverts about loving their consumers while they are currently battling seven lawsuits alleging "wage theft, failure to pay overtime and alteration of time records."  

-For White Guys who continue to go along with the idea that there is nothing wrong with the current Justice System.

- Robin Williams because I'm pretty sure he would have been voted least likely to commit suicide by the general public at large.

-An Uncle of mine who continues to joke around and play nice with everyone despite the fact there's a mountain of evidence suggesting he's verbally and/or physically abused his wife and kids routinely.

STILL TO COME LATER IN THE SHOW, BEST DIRECTOR & PICTURE NOMINEES .
2.3k · Sep 2011
Fire (calm)
Brycical Sep 2011
Wards the shadow of a freezing night
warming bodies
massaging with relaxing dreams.

Its smoke shields from bugs and animals.
A means of communication,
signaling help when lost.

A warm doctor--
kills bacteria.
A master chef--
warming food for a delicious bite.

Thank you, brother fire
for your charming nature.
Wrote a companion piece which can be found here... http://hellopoetry.com/poem/fire-rage/
2.3k · Apr 2015
Food, Baby
Brycical Apr 2015
Your eyes could sear steak
as hunger for my flesh growls.
Feast. You will be full.

Gnashing teeth chewing--
knife fingers slicing my back.
devour me with bliss.
2.3k · Nov 2011
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.
2.3k · Jul 2015
She, the Outer Space
Brycical Jul 2015
Wild child space travel gypsy
       drunk    on     the cosmos
     churning a sensual pattern--
             melting         suns
with a carefree wink
as stars pour into her eyes
like a garnet shiraz
       spiraling
              in    tidal   waves
splashing in a crystal wine glass
     caressing
              her white light lips.

Planets dip and dangle around her hips
as the weight of the nebulous nectar whispers
                                       lullabies to her eyes
         as her incandescent            hair contours
    to copious glistening constellations  
rippling across her tired body
                 like ice dripping on a warm chest
vibrating    indigo       moonlight         jazz
enrapturing millions with her simple act of symphonic yawning
as the dusk light dawning over faces
embraces souls stirring--
her purring hip cat dreams
leave people like us with mouths agape
as her voluptuousness nape hushes
us with a supernova explosion of peace
oscillating between
each of our spirits.
Poem inspired and is a respone and reaction to this painting, http://beautifulfarrago.tumblr.com/post/122372179828/the-universe-dreaming-of-the-universe
2.2k · Jul 2012
Summer
Brycical Jul 2012
With a single
glance
you make me sweat--
your sticky breath
dances
melodically with every swagger
of your step.

You chronically
dehydrate  
my thoughts--
ironically inspiring me
to bathe in refreshing
conscience streams
that are not mine.

I want to taste
the salty Sahara sands
between your toes
to feel what it's like this close
to the sun--
concealed by the  burning
Shisha smoke you breathe
with such control into your soul.

For one steamy night
I want to be the wind
igniting--brightening--heightening
those burning embers in your eyes
watching you slither,
as if an ice cube touched your spine.

I want white light smiles
to scar our faces
the next morning,
disfiguring our charred
hearts--
our ashes scattered
by the wind from the burning
building we've collapsed.
Greatly inspired by "The Stroke," "Pour Some Sugar on Me" and a dear friend.
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