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Brycical Mar 2014
We dance
an exclusive 2 person naked in the mirror
space drum party dance.

Me w/ my whisky nectar.
She w/ her Rooibush.

OUTSIDE:
we bey to the stars
sending wild—child peace
blessings &
excited gratitude
into the air
along w/ velvet earth herb smoke
the embers of the zoot twirl and dance
un the blue tone morning midnight,
a wild-child firefly.

We take a bow for the deer
watching us in the chill of the night
under a tree.

UPON RETREATING INDOORS:
we vow an early rest—
which melted away
to a cosmic vibrating undulating
wave of cataclysmic ecstasy
into the sacred dimensions of dream realms
our light shines & combines
star bodies
closer to the whole
holiness
raining kisses
upon necks
& *******
with claps of thunder tongues
and lightning hands.
The date in the title is the start of Chinese New Year 2014
Brycical Apr 2015
I only drink ferocious black coffee--
a silverback strong knuckle-sandwich  to the chest
because it screams at my throbbing heart like a drill sergeant.

I drink whisky because
because I enjoy the the burning taste
of sandpaper raking against the back of my throat.
And it gets me hammered the quickest.

Pizza for breakfast,
I'm eating champions of pineapple and bacon
with four different cheeses because *******.

The words I write are contrived reflections
trying to get by in a place I'm trying to convince myself I belong.

Cynicism glares with tired sunken eyes
at deja vu reiki songs,
but my hymnal is the bottom of a moscato,
and I sing louder when grey ghosts from the past
whisper lonely nightmares.
I made up the time.
Brycical Jun 2014
The curves of our flesh
also collide when pen or
brush touches paper.
just capturing a moment in time.
Brycical Apr 2014
We are here,
at this time,
together,
now.
read it's companion piece....
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/686351/2-tru-tru/
Brycical Jun 2014
Her metaphysical elephant
drips in blueberry-orange watercolors.

It watches us share a glorious
evening with star compadres
gabbing about healing thoughts & solutions,
as the rain gently whispers and drips outside.

This is our continued celebration of the summer solstice
dances and twirls like gyrating hips
humming Native American sounds
outside with the same Moonrise Star-children.
The previous morning began with a twisting journey
unto & into our golden selves,
vibrating hysterically in the foamy
fig beaches.

Days prior, on the solstice eve evening
we drank & spoke
in an intimate swamp faye bar
with a Neil Young cover band on hand
to embrace our cosmic gypsy heritage.
living
Brycical Apr 2014
We
are
all
is
love
light's
inside
always.

We
are
all
from
nature
alway­s.
read the companion to this piece...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/686357/1-tru/
Brycical May 2014
We create from:
thought
into
word;
vocal cord vibrations.


From word,                                          
time ripples..                                      
millions of outcomes.                              
Yet us, only conscious of one.
Brycical Jan 2015
In the beginning there was the word
and the word eventually volved into millions
and now we talk with flagrant disregard
meanings are lost in definitions
and we no longer honor the words
that have brought us this far.
Well today that stops as I invite all
to honoring the 8 sacred words.

These are the words groked after birth
inherently transparently giving us our worth,
these words are why we are here on this earth;
Feel, Dream, Creation, Faith, Learning, Light, Being and Love.

  (1)
Feel
The real deal, the one that dictates what you perceive as real, a double entendre for the body and mind, covers the basic five and the infinite emotional responses. Such nuances to each like how the olfactory assists with memory like that time I was makin' golden fluff pancakes and hominy with my Aunt and Uncle getting ready for  Sunday School at a grueling five in the morning.
I still remember mourning Grandma Ruth at my first funeral.
Certain feelings are hard, if not impossible to explain, like when a painting or movie moves you to tears, I still get choked up watching Jimmy Stewart in Harvey.
But still I remember the feeling when this girl ran some ice down my spine for the first time. Now imagine being blind-folded as the cold slowly melts and the drips trickle down and the only sound you hear is her breathing and your heartbeat as she monotonously drags the chill down Yeah, I know you feel me on that one now.
That's the power Feeling can bring about
touching our most primal basic instincts to the intricate emotions someone brings upon your being when they sing that song that gets you every time.  

(2)
Dream
A powerful word. They can change people and things, just ask one Dr. Martin Luther King.  

   (3)
Creation
Regardless if it's the idea for the Iphone or baby makin, all life originates at creation.
It's why all are god,
why we all got this reason to be
like a painter paints his wrinkled heart on the canvas,
why a poet like me let's words flow out like a dam that's broken.
Creation births ideas and people with vision, we’re all born with this fingertip power
and a joyous vibe in our voice
the brain overrides by the sacred eyes locked grinding oneness
paper to pen, fingers to guitar, man to woman
all ringing out in a deafening bliss entering this world!
Creation breeds change , ideas that shaped the way we do things
like the first aeroplane and those folks who birthed those to think of said thing.
The brain keeps spinning like the invention of the wheel,
keep thinking and dreaming cause creation is a sacred duty to continue evolving.  

(4)
Faith
Such a muddied word these days, but faith is where all beliefs originate.
I bet you believe you’ll wake up tomorrow after a goodnight’s sleep.
Even that is faith.
The fires of faith forge burning trust when hands shake
Faith is smithed to wave, but never break
And it’s hilt of hope marries the mind to the heart
Faith is NOT a shield to keep other beliefs at bay or people apart
it is inherently a bond of understanding
and accepting from all parts of one self and others through heaven or hell.

(5)
Learning
There's nothing more sacred than learning, be it about the world or yourself.
A momentary divine buzz as synapses join in realization.
Not everyone can be educated but everyone can certainly learn.

My Uncle used to say he learned something new every day, and I think that's the way it should be,
cause you don't stop learning once they hand that paper to you for graduating school, life is a classroom and we are all the teachers and students but the answers aren't simply in external digital books and slides
a lot of the answers of life can be found inside the classroom of your mind.
If I didn’t look inside I would have never realized my inability to take compliments was technically flat out rejecting kindness someone as tryin to bestow upon me.

Forgive my diatribe but I have a hard time around closed minds cause the brain's a gold mind and info is a much more powerful currency than those political carnies shuffling greenbacks under the coconut.

(6)
Light
A special, sacred word illuminating the world's mind and yours,
forget it's ability to help you find what you seek, like that time I lost my
keys under my bed after an art party or the way it startles your senses
when it first appears out of nowhere
the reason light is on this list is because you can add light to light AND darkness,
Can't ever make something more dark, it's just the absence of light, but you can always make something more bright that it blinds you even at night you can ignite a dark world
with a single flame watch it spread like wildfire then nothin's ever the same like a lightning shock to your brain illuminating your whole world cause now your paradigm has changed!

(7)
Being
Can you imagine just being? That's freedom. To be is free, free from ego judging thoughts from others and your self, free from worrying about social conventions like waiting for permission to eat because the prayer hasn't been said or taking a job because it pays well but it makes all the days melt into a blurry line. Being is now, it's living in each moment and riding that wave to the grave with no regrets. Just being present is one of the hardest things to master cause the barking past and enigmatic future keep jockeying for attention.

Like that time way back when I stiffed some friends for my part of the rent or anxiously awaiting my move to New York pondering if I should tell my parents. Being is freeing that's why I rhyme and write that's why I let my mad scientist hair sway in the wind that's why I run towards an accident that's why I always know what's happening cause I'm tappin into what's tattooed on my soul. And I know you know deep deep down who/what your being is, but it's easy to let others complicate it with expectations like continuing education after high school and labels like teacher or homeless lunatic but you gotta dig and hold on to what you know is true because being you to the fullest is all you can do.


(8)
Love

Love is.
These are my 8 sacred words. What are yours?

Audio version can be found here...
https://soundcloud.com/brycical/8-sacred-words
Brycical Oct 2012
Four people walk into a bar--
and let it all hang out.
      Everyone is spitting out some demons.
We knew we were at the right place
when the band started playing "Last Dance with Mary Jane."
My best friend made my neighbor cry,
but she needed it,
she's bottled up so much.
He wasn't mean,
just hit her with truth.

I let it known I have poor taste
in the woman I date.

                 No ***** were given,
we're all emotionally volatile
when sober.
We shared each other
along with drinks.

I jumped off my balcony.

The next morning
I cried--
what a release  last night was
for us.
Then I threw up.
Brycical Dec 2012
i'm simply very honest *
with everything
& literally say whatever's on my mind

poems
are actually what happen
when i think
about what words to put where
*and the people who cannot handle this free spirited discourse eventually leave because they can't handle the truth. I don't leave people.
Brycical Aug 2011
I see the ladder in the      distance
But according to the timeline
of the conversation
we only spoke       briefly
on the ladder

We spent the majority of time
climbing up and
down
It’s hard to  speak
when              climbing
Do you notice that?
Can I safely ask that in context of the conversational timeline
as we travel farther away from it?

It looks            lonely
but reminds me of a dream
The undefined lighting is a large factor
The ladder is         outside,
on a beach, dead center
It’s really          inside           a room
That’s why the lighting is off
I can see the corners of the       walls meeting

But you don’t care about the ladder
You’d rather move forward
in the timeline
to a more recent conversation

Just let me have another moment with the ladder
then I can move on
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.
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 May 2014
THE OTHER DAY IN THE PARK I SPIED A WHITE SQUIRREL!

LATER:
We remember a past life,
later she opens her heart completely;
gratitude beats out!

I Cry.

She Cries.

THIS SCENE PLAYS OUT IN THE KITCHEN
OF THE TOUR GUIDE THROUGH THE
MATRIX, WHERE SHIPIBO PATTERNS
ALIGN THE INSIDE OF HIS LOFTY DEN.


The Tour Guide introduced us
to the timeless Oracle Pixie Swan
who paints 10 years into the future.

FOR DINNER:
we weave golden sunset light
in good convo's about the human
experience unplugging  the people.

IN THE MORNING:
we watch the gray clouds burn away
as they slowly unzip the sun unto a quiet Toronto cityscape.

We run into old friends
serendipitously pin-balling from all over the world
yet conversations continue,
with some new jokes & banter
about mistaking white squirrels & seagulls
but overall, talking the same magical words
as we are with our old soul timer families.

-----
THROUGHOUT THE DAY:
How grateful we are
to be blessed with a life of travel
& living creatively
while a few live vicariously through our
mostly unplannet planned adventures
spanning warm shores of Bali
to cold pole warm toes in Toronto.

How grateful our beings
made whole holy feel.

-----
Hooray for living, special dedication to another poet on HP, Seymour.
http://hellopoetry.com/seymour/
Brycical May 2013
I said,

I believe because
you inspire me.
That's a powerful trait--
not just creatively,
but also to be a stronger person
in mind,
body
& spirit.

<3

She says,
I wish
I had your eyes
to see myself with.

The I say,
This is why I write
you poetry
& get lost in your eyes--
Why I can't help but long
to be in your presence,
because it is a gift
for those around you,
though you may not be aware.
As a poet,
I'm always trying to capture
fleeting moments
of the cosmic beauty
you bestow upon the world
**everyday.
Brycical Jul 2015
Right now, it's unclear
how to feel about this latest development
between us
because
at any moment you're libel
to switch gears in your speedster train of thought
on to new electric spark tracks
of ecstatic playtime poetry frivolity
or serene raindrop contemplation
and, while the exciting allure of spontaneity isn't lost on me,
it can be a bit confusing
in terms of how one should express themselves around you
and how much of your baggage they're willing to cary
in addition to their own on any given day.  

I'm not mad at you,
just confused and worn out.
But I suppose it's hard to find solid ground
on digital windows and words.
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.
Brycical Feb 2015
on my mother's head
and she cried
but it wasn't about the lamp.
Though the ironic illumination
it provided isn't lost on me.

She's a 57 year old little girl terrified  
of talking to her sister
about their mother's looming death.  
She cowers at the power of her thoughts;
years of being bullied in school and belittled by parents
echo around in her darkening gray matter canyons
convince her to fold like tin foil.

If her tears were about the lamp
they wouldn't sound so heavy
when they fell.
Brycical Sep 2011
I wish to work at a bank,
merely to work the opening shift.

I wouldn’t steal money,
just work until my first paycheck,
then quit.

As I’d walk out,
I’d yell to all,
**** yourselves!
I’ve completed a life goal!


They’re merely working
because violin lessons
or that marketing diploma
didn’t quite pan out.

And as I triumphantly walk
through the doors to freedom,
I’d be shot by thieves
beginning to rob the bank.

It’s an honor
to be made an example of.
Brycical Jul 2012
Tonight,
for the first time,
I feel like my age
when my friends describe me
as an "old soul."

My bones feel hollow--
like glass in an oven,
my breath shallow--
a shadow fading in an overcast.
Ancient lessons drool
out of my mouth,
a tired tongue parched
and dry from the sands of time.

My mind yearns for "good 'ol days"
so far in the future
it seems like the past.

But gasoline has been poured
over my campfire harmony heart.

I'm just getting started.
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.
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.
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.
Brycical Jun 2013
Frantically, a snowflake falls--
terrified of the massive dark cloud
a former home.

Falling--falling
zig-zag loop-de-loop
twist reverse--falling--

Once a vibrant turquoise
filled with melodious birds
whose songs were carried by a brisk breeze--
The dark cloud now envelops
the sky
with a quiet, frigid, painful air
looking for that one frightened snowflake
in a sky of millions leaping for the ground,
forgetting it created that scared snowflake,
just like all the others running away...
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 .
Brycical Sep 2012
& the salts just keep on spreading--              
between Palestine & Israel,
millennium of a-saults burn in their hell--
collectively bringing bodies down
as a salty sacrifice screeches venom out
into the air,
& acidic sleepy nightmare scarring the earth dry.
  
          & the salts just keep on spreading--              
          & the salts just keep on spreading--              

what hope do we have as
you keep building your salt walls
--it's like a ******* clawing a scab.
keep shaking hands with cheese graters
slicing papers of ancient seas scrolls
where knowledge could be foretold
of love and peace young and old--

           but the salts just keep on spreading--        
           but the salts just keep on spreading--        

all over the world into already perfect countries--
dividing a world into your words
like a dead fish floating in your sea--
wrapped in parchment to be served
as a poisonous choice for dinner of all our minds.
makes us feel like we're walking on a landmine field,
points jagged piercing unyielding fear shrapnel in our brains.

           but the salts just keep on spreading--          
           but the salts just keep on spreading--          

and we wonder why our lands keep drying out.
putrid, salty sour milk words
burn the back of our throat
yet we hope to find water --
we hope the moats of these salty
words protect us.
but what happens when  the water dries up?


            the salts just keep on spreading--  
        the salts just keep on spreading--
Brycical Mar 2014
A heart deflates
into a circular fire,
burning a tunnel in reality
so a dark train of thought can barrel through.

Hieroglyphic crocodiles swim
into a stream to eat gazelle.

A universe is just the iris
of gods.

I grew up in a cactus hut
that was atop the boogeyman's hat.
'Ol Skullface evaporates like a rippling image
in water...
dreadlocked lightning
bottle sips on the venus flytrap's *******.

Maybe I'm the combination of Bob Marley's dope smoke
& Dali's pipe steam.
That right there
was his psychedelic ego
he o rarely sees.

The Native American sound in my brain
reminds me of beautiful cave paintings
in candle lit screams & moans
echoing.

Bamboo lightning
sword frightening shimmers
in the light.

Tribal war paint vicious sharp drumbeats;
fangs ready for battle,
a head bobbing mystic predicts victory
in the shadows;
glowing.
Ashes from the evening smoke means we've won,
thanks to my brain eye.
Brycical Dec 2014
So, as you know, I'm the kind of person
who prefers to traverse the worst news first
before dispersing with friendly pleasantries.

But, if I may speak free and honestly
I'm tired carrying around the genes
that subject me to overcome obscene

obstacles from your insecurities
as well as the fears of our ancestors.
I know there are lessons learned in character  

karma before switching out from one car
to another but sweet jesus, sometimes
it's hard to take a break or find space to breathe!

And you wonder sometimes why I cannot
ride over the same roads you built, spilling
oil, drilling mountains, supporting wars and more

systems that are killing the poor and/or
brown men and children. Well then, for my health
and well-being I need to at least find some peace

in the things I can control and support,
things and people that build a rapport with
my mind, heart and soul, so my blood flow don't fly

so high from the things I cannot control
like all the old school phobias and the
nervousness lurking in your minds before I

was even born. There's no scorn from me, but
maybe an occasional forlorn sigh,
only because I love you, and know you're trying.

But please, please... I appreciate that you
want me to succeed, but to be honest
I really, really don't need your help, your genes

are enough of an obstacle course through
hell to get to heaven, because at some
point my being is gonna get sore cause there's

no way in hell you can convince me to
take more or just accept that that's the way
it has been when I can see other paths that

have been, perhaps less traveled, if at all,
leading to happiness and freedom to
be the change you have been seeking from the start.

But we cannot do it if our hearts hurt
or lungs burn or can't find ways to work and
learn together because we are, it is
& that's it.
Inspired by two recent news/science articles:
http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/scientists-discover-childrens-cells-living-in-mothers-brain/

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/science/science-news/10486479/Phobias-may-be-memories-passed-down-in-genes-from-ancestors.html
Brycical Dec 2014
Should I be accused of dying
prematurely in this life,
I am ensuring
that my death
will proceed at the very least
a moment of actually living.  
Could also be considered an ongoing new years resolution I have been making each year since before I was born.
Brycical Aug 2011
On a whim—
     I said yes.
I went to their place
ready for the awkward tension.
But she’s a good friend.
I’d simply ignore
          the prodding questions
of her boyfriend
and their    uncomfortable   verbal altercations
always ending       in      “babe.”

It was especially
       uneasy
    that night.
He had it in his head
“his girl” and myself shtupped.

She was annoyed,
I attempted cordiality.
He’d be a good lawyer—
          he asked again,
               a different way.
I take it back,
he’d be an awful lawyer.  
He’s           a             ****.
She offers to drive me home.

As we prepare to enter her car,
she noticed one of the tires.
a little deflated—
three nails.

She told me had I declined
the invitation to visit
she’d probably be stranded
on a highway somewhere.

I stood amazed,
knowing my split-second yes
reverberated throughout space,
and time,
revealing an alternate future
now avoided.
Brycical Nov 2015
MOTHER:
Could you take out the trash?


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


MOTHER:
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.


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



MOTHER:
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.


DAUGHTER:
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.



FATHER:
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.


MOTHER:
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.
  


DAUGHTER:
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.



FATHER:
I'm much too busy dwelling on the past.


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


DAUGHTER:*
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 Jan 2015
Liquid walls ripple
the ceiling drips iridescent colors.

Outside, the emerald forest leaves
twinkle, shimmering reflected light
to and fro in the breeze.

Natives American drums hum
syncing to my heartbeat.

Water, ephemeral buzzing, azure-indigo
flows up the citrine beach,
the half-creamsicle moon dances
dusk fractal patterns
in the foamy tide.

Sacred hieroglyphic birds
sound like wind chimes.

Each sweet breath
kisses and caresses the souls of everyone.
Brycical Jul 2015
Thudding walls calamity crash
bozo bongo beatitude drinkatude
splashing chi whisky against amaretto amethyst ice mountains  
wallowing winds whisper storm clouds
and tidal waves
weaving
in and out of bodies like a titanium knife
glistening like the moon.
and i sit on top of a mountain
watching,
waiting for the mercurial air & water elements
to swallow me like a dab of LSD.

"Let's go drown in each other's emotions!"
I shout, the words echoing
as the storm grows and the foaming water
churns and splashes in the wee hours of the morning...
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.
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.
Brycical May 2014
New York Sun Editor John B. Bogart once said
When a dog bites a man, that is not news because it happens so often. But if a man bites a dog, now that's news.

I think the same could be said of life,
at least, mine anyway.
Don't worry, I'm not going around biting dogs,
but I am living it up as if my life were a story,
because it is, otherwise, I'd be bored.  

But, if it were up to my parents,
I'd be working some dead-end desk job
at some marketing firm shilling packaged bread
so I could pay off my student loans,
own a home, get a wife & make enough dinero
to march to retirement, just like everyone else.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


Isn't it more exciting to read
about a roving poet skipping around
the world from Cairo to Toronto
occasionally stopping to smoke on beaches
all the while meeting people
who seem like they're from a different dimension?

I'm not saying I want a book written about me,
but... if one should be in the works,
I know it'd be a real page turner.

Although, most in my generation has been told
we're all unique and special;
getting participation trophies in baseball
& ribbons for being in the spelling-bee,
yet we're all also told, or rather it's highly suggested we
follow suit & get in line like our parents & grandparents did,
continuing their stories of countless wars and conformity.


Same 'ol story.
Dog bites man.


But nobody will read all these identical stories.
That's part of the problem with people,
only a few are living like they have a story to tell
while most fade away in some gray apathy hell.

Well, my brothers and sisters,
I can only frame it to you this way,
if you had a choice between reading the headlines:
Person Does What they're Told Until Death
or
Person Dies in a Skydiving Sound Circle **** & Bake Sale
which story are you going to read?

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have to make some magic brownies
because I'm late to my skydiving ****** education lesson.
live
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...
Brycical Jun 2014
She once was a funky unicorn--
we both midnight animals,
occasionally I'm a sufi moon baboon!

We wear cloud wind trousers--
surfing dusk persimmon & rose air,
laughing ecstatic dances as we rest.

Nighttime tricksters we are,
southern denim night blue ***** she sings,
peppermint thieves shadow-monkey sways in breeze...

Our gracious words of thankful creativity
dance in the wind,
lollygagging off into the sunset....
For Fah.

Thank you for dancing with me.
Brycical Jan 2015
there sits Father Time
drinking a 50 year old scotch,
neat.
His compatriots
Sister Life and her Brother Death
sit close by,
the Sister sipping *** on the Beach
while Brother blows bubbles in his Shiraz.
All served at the cosmic bar by The Great Spirit
nursing a big 'ol Long Island Iced Tea.

I'm thinking of creating my next masterpiece,
Brother Death said.

"Maybe this time, don't use a bucket of paint for just one blade of grass,"
Father Time chuckled.

Sister Life spun around
and round on her spinny stool for several decades
until she hopped up atop the bar, proclaiming in French,
I don't make the best hexadecimal frittatas in the seventh dimension for nothing!  

Suddenly all brought their glasses together in a supernova clink
as they cheered
"May we continue to move forwards in the trajectory to wherever the hell we're going!"
Brycical Oct 2011
Don't let the man steal all your hope of time and space.
#truth #forever #changes #us
Brycical Aug 2013
Afternoon waves splash
across the rocks--

kshhhhhhhhhh,
kshhhhhhhhhh...

Several green Stella's glisten
in the shade,--

kshhhhhhhhhh,
kshhhhhhhhhh...

Soothing wind spins around in my hair,
the sound dances off the waves--

whhhhhhhhhhh kshhh,
whhhhhhhhhhh kshhhhhhh...

My open eyes gaze
into the sapphire-lapis sea--

whhhhhhhhhhh kshhh,
whhhhhhhhhhh kshhhhhhh...

Time is still,
only the water is moving.

*kshhhhhhhhhhhh.....
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.
Brycical Aug 2011
only I'm drunker.

Wannabe Kerouac's still there.
If he really wanted to be Jack
he'd be die from all the drinking.  


Neon.
The beer flows.


I charm.
People drink up my 1920's wit.
They're happy seeing me again
they think I'm one of them.

Their hugs last longer,
the smokes die quickly.
Friends reunite
but the party continues.


Neon.
The beer flows.


The speaking was business
but now business is drinking.
I'm for that.
The more I drink the less
I hear their redundant and empty conversations.
Everyone wants to do business with each other-
         no outsiders despite claiming to be as such.


Neon.
The beer flows


The bottles are empty,
I feel the **** wearing off.
Time to leave again.
A companion piece to another poem called "In a Bar" can be read here, http://hellopoetry.com/poem/in-a-bar-1/
Brycical Jun 2012
Sometime's,
there's a little backwash
in your cup.*

You don't have to drink it.

Some do
and that's ok.

Some may even want
to drink your backwash.

Don't let them.

Backwash
is unavoidable
but
you make the choice
to drink it
or not.
*you are the cup
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.
Brycical Nov 2014
May you rest well & tango with the crimson leaves aglow with whimsical love living in their veins vivaciously while the effervescent vicarious vespers of air spirits lift and play oboe tones atop the glorious ruby mountain in the kiss of dusk.

Also i love you dear, sweet honey cinnamon habibi queen goddess being.
Brycical Sep 2011
She is lonely,
known for wanderin’ through
the park next to her house at 3AM—
barefoot.
The gallows of sadness gallop alongside
her face.
Her lifeless,
ambivalent  
emotionless
face crawls through the dark park.

She’s cold,
longing to be reaching
for a lover.

Her veins are frigid.
There is a thickness,
like oil
pulsating through her body—
slowing her movements to a malaise.
Her faceless friends are unaware
of her plan to escape.
Brycical Jan 2013
Questions are often asked
about my optimistic smile,
the happy-go-lucky personality
and unwavering confidence.

The most common question:
How do you know
these things?


I don't ******* know.
I know nothing.
I have no ******* idea
where 73% of my thoughts, words and ideas come from.
I don't even feel like it's "me"
speaking/typing most of the time.

Sometimes I have no idea
that i'm telling you
It's going to be alright
because the words just
charge out of my mouth.
But I'm saying what is inside my brain.
I don't think about it.
That's my reaction.

Confused yet?

In the end
it's all going to be alright
cause we'll be dead.
Either our conscious ceases
or we are reconnected to all things--
that complete warm one-with-all feeling
some call god or heaven or nirvana
but we're going to forget all this stupid **** anyway.

I have no clue what I do or don't know,
between your volatility of perception
and society trying to hypnotize me
into complacency while it slowly burns away,
I'm lucky to know my own ******* name.

If you want answers to life's questions,
stay away from me.
Ask someone shrewd enough
who pretends to know.
Personally, I don't think there are any answers
because they are whatever each person
wishes them to be.
I can only tell you
what I feel and see in each moment
as it's happening.

Ask allah, preachers, Zen, astrophysicists, philosophers, Reikis, dictionary writers, lawyers, mathematicians, astrologists, Buddha, Industrial engineers, the ******* guy who delivers your food (or anyone really) for answers
and more than likely you will have different kinds of **** answers.

But if you ask yourself,
you will find truth.
Brycical Apr 2013
You are strong.
I've seen this
whether it be a few months or millennia ago
you are strong.

[Today:]
[Your conscience muscles through
a jagged, physical and sandy world--
Your mind lauds
methods to set itself free--
Your body aches for
something distant but are too afraid to touch.
But you are strong
]

Our earthy flesh
may be bound by certain laws
our minds are bound by none.
We have the wings
to soar beyond
because you are strong.
From, that place.
Brycical Nov 2011
Volo pro totus meus amicitia vivo grate ,
per optimus fortuna quod sapiens amicitia.
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