He's killing himself
He's drowning in truth
With each inhale of a cigarette
He fills his lungs with ideals
The smoke gathers around him
Changing the perception of reality
Another pull from the wine bottle
Another dose of novocaine
A swig of whiskey
A sip of *******
Freedom he says
It's all I've ever wanted
My way or the highway
I love you
I don't want you
Another pull from the bottle
Another inhale from the joint
You're my everything
But I walk in truth
The truth is I am me
And I have nothing to offer you
The smoke gathers in his reality
No vividness in his realm
This honey colored existence
This freedom
This perception
This alone

-KB 2016

I've never seen him as typical
He was always more ethereal than this
A king
A god
Something and someone apart from the norm
Magical
Intense
Real
Beautiful
Especially beautiful
Beauty in his touch
Beauty in his eyes
Beauty in is voice
Beauty in his mind
Beauty all through him
Has this caused me to fall prey to what I hate done to me?
Do I want to own what should never be owned, but merely appreciated?
Perhaps I am not his and he is not mine, but we are just us.
Perhaps he is just typical
He breathes
He hurts
He angers
Perhaps he is just a man
A man any woman can have
Perhaps I am just a woman
And our elevated status is only existent in a memory
In a lifetime long ago
In a time where he was the king and I was his queen
But here,
Now
He is just a man
I am just a woman
And typical is all we have left

-KB 2016

The color of the treasure may have changed,
But the tactics are all the same.
First come the discoverers, then the mercenaries, followed by the soldiers to "protect" us, for we know not what we have.
They come to "protect" and "civilize" us.
To save us from our wild savage ways.
Be it 1492, 1851, 1975, or 2016
The goal is all the same.
**** the Indian, Save the Man.
**** the Indian, Save the Man.
We're still thinking we're seen as that man,
But THEY are all part of that clan.
We are The Humans, The Protectors, we are The People, just as all of our languages remind us.
We are the children of the Earth.
Now the cycle has come again.
First came the discoverers,
And we prayed.
Then came the mercenaries,
And we reasoned.
Do more than just dance this time my people...
The soldiers are coming.
The color of the treasure may have changed,
But the tactics are all the same.

Mni Wiconi

-KB 2016
Cante Waste Mani Kici Win

Beneath the waves of consciousness
Beneath the skies filled with dreams
Under the illuminating moonlight
Within the warm embrace of the sun
This is where your heart will meet mine
The tenderness of your touch
The sweep of a petal against my skin
The depth of your gaze
The galaxies looked up to in the night
Your sweet breath against my neck
A gentle breeze on the wind
This is how you remain with me

-KB 2016

Beyond the facade of love, lies the desire for normalcy and freedom.  
An aching yearning for the self, but the self with another.  
The self with a partner.  
That other that fully embraces
          and accepts without
                  judgement or
                      withholding.  
The other that loves,
         but does not need.  
           That needs,
         but not too much.  
All this is covered in love desired.  
We want to love,
       but we want to be free,
                and is there freedom in love?  
Is there not a freedom,
    but with limits
          because there must also be respect.  
Am I not me,
         but I'm the me that I am with you and isn't that a different me?  
For truly,
       you wouldn't want the all of me,
               there are far too many critiques.  
Too many judgments.  
        Too many thoughts that invade the space of my personal realm,
               the one that used to just be me,
                     but I let you in because I love you
                               and I want to be me with you.  
Does this mean you are not you?  
What has this done to the you that I knew?  
How has the me changed you in such a way?  
And now are we just us?  
Is this a facade covered in the language of love?  
            Have we gone mad?  
                  Completely lost ourselves?  
                         Has freedom escaped,
and yet we fight for this new us because it feels good
           and bad
                    and happy
                            and angry all at once?  
This adventure,
         this experience,
                this thing.  
So many consistent inconsistencies,
    but I love you so I navigate them.  
I fight for the me that I knew so well,
   but I love you and so I'll fight to be the me you want me to be.  
So am I still me?  
        Are you still you?  
                    Or are we now us in this language of love?

-KB 2016

As you spoke those precious words, the ocean in me calmed and came alive all at once.  
My heartbeat created a wave that shifted the pull of the moon.  
My night skies lit up and stars paled in comparison to the depth of love in your eyes.  
In only a second of time, all I knew had forever changed.  
The indifference I had surrounded myself with melted and caverns to bury my soul filled.  
The gift of you illuminated all confusion and in that moment, I was safe.

-KB 2016