Up, up and away,
as I soar into the sky,
light as a feather,
with the birds on high,
Oh, watch me fly,
as I spread my wings,
Explore the world, and
the most wonderful things,
The beauty that's within, and
all that it brings,
Just look down, and see
what the world has in store,
as I am exploring,
Who could ask for more,
flying up above this
whole entire nation,
as I am Thankful for
God's Beautiful Creations,
as I look down upon the
lands and the seas,
The monuments,
of the world,
So beautiful to see,
A marvelous sight,
So adorning to me,
as I am airborne,
Flying in my Dreams!!!!


B.R.
Date: 4/15/2025

doing the heavy lifting

picking up my emaciated heart,
letting the rest of my wilting body
tag along qualifies, but is not the
heavy lifting referenced above.

we all have a meeting, the bits and
pieces, the bobs and keepsakes
that constitute my mien, a constitutional
convention of 13 colonies that raucous
write of burdens, of freedoms, with wild
inspirations and cold political calculations

this combining document hoping to topstitch
my reeling mind and deteriorating physic,
to write words of hopeful praise but rising
to a world that is baking in hatred into fabric
and tissue, and that is the heaviest lift of all

Sunday morning, coffe-d, somewhat rested,
a full day planned, and a Mike Message says
it’s me that does the heavy lifting and I know!
he knows! the displaced state of my mind, and
the hardened ache of writing with fresh hope,
when there is so little, that it is lost in the litter
of endlessness of a world gone, not going,
mad~insane and murderers are
illogically celebrated,
and yet here I am punching words on my
AM Morning Punch List of worthy words
available that aid us needy for repair & yet
might move us together to a state of full repair;  
but I am punchy from trying, to find words
themselves that require do not require, a
truth washing,
a new word recleansing
and

    (they put the load right on me),

and naïf-not, see the troubles ahead and get
me more paper to add to the list of lists of
worldly worrisome words that are heavy
lifting of the world as it is but know I weep as
I write this for not in my possess the light airy
words, the wordsmith is crushed neath the weight of

tonnage of human word-lessened-ness

Sunday Morning
Oct 22 2023
9:02am,
writ in a singed single cry

Wal-Mart at 12 a.m. is almost eerie.

Silent save the occasional shopper or manager,
Perhaps following you to ensure you don't do anything foolish.

Picking out the dumbest things just because you need to smile.

Playing with your friend in the toys, letting go for once,
Just to be chased away by management.

Losing one of the squad and looking for her.

Wandering over to the makeup, glancing at the camera,
Then picking out what you want and pocketing it an aisle over.

Going to the arcade and winning for once.

It's not a secret, you needed a win,
Plus your little sibling will love the new stuffed toy.

Seeing a random family member.

Rushing away as to remain unseen,
Knowing if your parents find out you will be dead.

The general feeling of disassociated contentedness when you finally leave.

You won't remember half of what happened anyway,
But who cares.

Shopping at night is the best.

Hold me in your arms
fold me into your heart
touch me and let me feel your softness
take me away from me
help me to see
through your big brown eyes
drench me in your light
for I am down
and in the dark
remind me to laugh
and lift me with your wings of hope
smile me that last mile
before I am too tired.

There are days
when my soul feels
stretched out
like a ribbon
emotions
           hang
                  ing
from a thread
on the line,
like laundry, for
all to see, on pegs
vulnerable
           in storms
letting wind caress
and sometimes whip them
         round in beaten time
like a tempest
They tend to
get bruised, secretly
battered internally
as the surface of me smiles
and marches on
Vocal chords tightening
as the larynx longs
            in primal urge
     to take out the words
in one long
      graceful arc
             of purge
On these days I
need to sit
in the cloudforms
of my mind's eye
      and let myself feel
  what I cannot show:    
the daily coldness gnawing
    at my innards
      blow by icy blow
In these hours
I must let the tears
well up and run down
             until the sting of salt
penetrates the glacier
let the significance of
unspoken words
rise up from
the deep dermis layers
into my throat, my tonsils
up to the palate and tongue
               out through my lips
to the heavens,
releasing the unsung
         those words caught within
the walls of my neck -
they almost make me choke
exhaust contamination
from heavy, unseen smoke
  It billows up and out
and soon, like
hard-worked magic
this morse code is busted
because I am sick of feeling tragic
I command clear
communication
      to filter through
the spasms of fog
in drops of dew
I command my words to be heard
in tiny spikes of sun
And all the while
            in clear spirals,  
                    a prayer commences to
                        be spun:
for the harsh
               and bitter
be flushed out
             in unabated, icy rush
for my soul to rise up
           for the cleansing
in aching spirit blush
for the painfulness
of silence
to be ground out
upon the floor
for the shadows of
the violence
to be obliterated
to the
       core

I try to lift weights

I guess I don't

pulling not-so-heavy

badly-shaped maybe-steel

from clay ground to beating chest

back and forth

atop a New York skyscraper