may all your words commend themselves
for what they might reveal.
may you feed your tongue with perpetual
thoughts that exist beyond the veil.
I insist, my brother, from where I stand; I've
yet to wield my own.
I resist, my brother, this vile land; this home
is not our home.
our call is for another day, may your throat
know ardent rest.
for when time entails your voice to save,
may it only know your best.
this  isn't a gentlemen's quarrel, this isn't a
ponderer's spot;
but this stream of reality has lent me so far,
so shall I assess all that is taught.
lead with your eyes and surely you'll follow,
but lead with your ears, see better
tomorrow.
there is peace within you, even when
nothing is still

be well,
bcb

the sun shined down on me
and made a blissful scene
for the day before
i must implore
the rain laid waste of me

the sun shined down on me
and heard my tangled plea
for i dare want more
and i dare explore
all there is to be

and when the sun shines down on me
will i stand and make you see
that a soul like yours
only blossoms and soars
and how you’ve got a friend in me

be well,
bcb

today i feel quite alive
how exquisitely dear
that this ****** composition
and each soul in their position
ushers me to tears

today i feel quite alive
how transcendentally clear
that this world we inhabit
composes peace amongst rapids
and boy do i love being here

so to my people who love and to my people who see
know to endure and continue to be  

be well,
bcb

hey, lovesick child with the benevolent heart
hey, lovesick child from the pinnacled start

oh, how you’ve become such finespun art

au revoir, au revoir, to that which lays scars
but know each scar that you bear, sets you apart

oh, how you’ve become such finespun art

be well,
bcb

a sunday evening I was born
a timeworn name to call my own
would adumbrate an impartible home
endowed there was a lulling pass
and a far-off train did whistle through

I was ten and wistfully torn
a naive mind won’t hear a quarrel
only boorish lies and schlocky morals
never mind that lulling pass
though, a far-off train did whistle through

a beardless boy too young to mourn
my reverie held you anchored
a voice at three forever clangors
where’d you go, oh, lulling pass
still, a far-off train did whistle through

meddling now, I palmed a thorn
a wives tale spelt of love and bliss
I won’t countervail her ornate kiss
oh how she tastes of lulling pass
and a far-off train did whistle through

a suave path was never sworn
to reminisce means to salvage the pain
a luring abyss for the susceptible brain
take me to my lulling pass
there, a far-off train will whistle through

restless, yes, but never worn
a bluff I’d be to render now
complacency, a wretched cow
I’ll meet my own dear lulling pass
as a far-off train does whistle through

be well,
bcb

from time to time will I stare directly into the face of the moon and imagine myself at the bottom of a well. a charming well, though pallidly dark and a scent of bromine; there lies life far below the veil of light so obscene.
a buoyant mystery.

from time to time will I stare directly into the myriad of stars and imagine each one as baroque needle ****** within a sunken black canvas. an extravagant canvas. constellation of blemishes, an unhinged art. each blotch it’s own name, to set them apart.
a shimmering reverie.

these are the gifts that call to me.
persist enduringly.

be well,
bcb

such a foolish conception to mull, so convincingly, or with great pithy, over certain ‘what if’s’ of your peculiar past. there’s ‘what if’s’ of the future and ‘what if’s’ unsurpassed, but what if ‘what if’s’ of yesterday were more a splinter in the mast.

repudiate all that distracts

be well,
bcb