As Heaven and Hell filled your glass you gave me the the gift of laughter and raised my spirits several times.
Those stories about a plethora of assess, wild crazed friends, and a hard painful life intrigued me for countless hours.

Never are you just a simple shade of black or white your always that insane drunk artist that mixes up the paint.
Your advice and experience taught me new colors that I would have never been able to imagine before.
Unlike me your a true writer that’s unaffected with the STD of being just a poet, but you still just might have the clap.
Your works are ****** great so don’t you EVER stop trying to get your stuff out to this twisted world……..

Because if you quit I will seriously be obligated to punch you and I know you’ll still be able to easily kick my ***,
even though you probably broke your hip after you got out of your walker and unplugged your dialysis machine.

I’m not a mascochist  (Unless I get a *** of cash or your a pretty Asian girl) so please for the love of god never make me do that, and hell I really like a lot you so I’d really prefer not to put a .38 special deep into your chest cavity.

Keep staying crazy you ******* and although more than likely as your future attorney I’ll sure as hell stay busy,
but your my big brother and I ******* love you man so don’t you ever change.

P.S. Don’t hog on all of the good runoff ***** unless they are too chubby.

unknown morning birdsongs
make me aware
I am not home

now with a seven before the zero
I know that I am still no hero
just lucky to have lived so long
     and happy to go on
     for many years
before they sound the final gong

I do not know whose eyes perceive
my finite movement toward light.

Each letting go, a small cry,
each forward move my life's
migratory assurance of what
none of us can ever know.

The genetic certainty of cells
propels the forebrain
with its stumbling feet,
while a heartache of hope
wins each moment even
as it is lost to the next.

And we must accept
the impermanent flow
that is like air, necessary
and sacred; tears are not
the only salt of sorrow.

Like winds
               blowing from the north
or snowflakes
               sheltering the earth,
like the crystal clear skies above
[your heart]
sparks my life with love.

Like homing robins on the wing
or warm raindrops in the spring,
like arching rainbows up above
[your heart]
sparks my life with love.

Like soaring eagles overhead
or roses in a summer bed,
like golden sunshine from above
[your heart]
sparks my life with love.

Like ivy
           climbing on the wall
or the welcomed breeze of fall,
like the twinkling
            stars above
[your heart]
sparks my life with love.
~

© 2017 Brianna Love/SA/DBMA

Are you wasted?
        or gone?
                I dearly hope not.

Because,
                  I fear that I
                   have begun
                             to depend
                                         o n   y o u.

Don't waste away
            I beg you
             stay a little more
                      long enough
                            for me
                               To   l e t  g o .

tall pines
birch trees
lining the trail

high cliffs
running streams

waterfalls
spilling over rock

smashing into
pools below

ears attuned
to forest creatures

dusk
fast approaching

a full grown doe
meanders

a young buck
follows

I wonder
who it is

that feels
more fear

in that moment
we are one

I want to work my vision
And make a story
A story of the crazy

For the crazy
To pass to the man
Who says he is sane

Trapping those who walk the borderline
With those of a mind to            or
With a mind not to

I commend my soul
To the vastness beyond
I beg of thee, bathe me, cleanse me

Take my talents and possessions
That I leave here on earth

Scatter them share them
To bear witness of fresh new birth

They will bury me
Under a star lit sky
Beside a sinless tree

last night
I lost the best friend
I ever had