"bryce" poems
*she just shakes her head
she meets me on the street-corner, me from work, she from dance,
in the grayling dusk of a thank god it’s a freedom Friday night,
I greet her with words semi-adventurous -
“come with me, few errands to run, keep me in good company”
to the candy store we go for to purchase my weekend eve
lottery tickets and blow-pop lollipops, just in case some
kids appear, a surprise omen as they come
trick-or-treating just before Thanksgiving
the Bangladeshi candyman calls out a long prayer
in his native Bangla
she asks “what’s that he’s saying?”
“Oh, just wishing us a pleasant Sabbath and
may his gods smile upon our good lottery fortune”
she just shakes her head, from side to side
emerging from the store, walking home in the
now doubly ***** darkly dusk,
a set of white teeth from a passing shadow-man says to me
“you’re home late and have a great weekend,”
she asks, “who is that?”
“why,” I reply, “that is our very own personal postal carrier’
she says:
“he delivers mail to ten thousand people all in buildings tall,
yet knows your name, your face,
where you buy your lottery tickets,
your coming and going hours,
how came that to be”
but waits not for an answer
she just shakes her head, from side to side
I show her my secret entrance to our apartment house,
the fast route to collect our mail, dry cleaning in one fell swoop
a secret door, secret elevator taking us directly to our apartment
a secret elevator which is under the direction of
Bimal from Nepal,
who I greet in Nepalese, (my tutor)
I, asking after Brian and Bryce, his 100% American boys
now she says nothing, but before our door, as I go key digging,
she just shakes her head, from side to side
later she says:
“let’s order in, apprise me of your expertise,
some exotic fare from Manhattans First Avenue,
known for its aphrodisiacal powers
afterwards,
you must tell me each dishes name,
in its tongue’s nativity,
but much, much later,”
and as she speaks, grinning,
she sticks out her tongue,
while she just shakes her head,
but this time,
up
and
down
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 10:07 AM UTC
Let me take you out to lunch
Mrs Bryce said
(she was a middle aged dame
old enough to be his aunt)
o.k if you like
he said
but her friend Lilly
didn't like the idea
(some jealousy
of the lesbian kind
maybe he later thought)
and was quite reserved
as they went to
the posh upstairs restaurant
he one side
and they opposite
Lilly giving him
the cool stare
her pinched mouth
wrinkled forehead
Mrs Bryce studied
the menu
her glasses on
her eyes focused
what you having Lilly?
she asked
and Lilly scanned
her menu and picked out
something in French
and then she asked him
and he said
o the stew will do
and the waitress came
and took their orders
and went off
wagging her behind
which he noticed
but they didn't
being that part
sexually blind
and then came
the small talk
the casual chat
or this and that
and Lilly straight faced
thin lipped
and icy eyes stare
but he knew
what Lilly didn't
she had no idea
about the ***
or how the middle aged
dame had it still
could still turn on the fire
could **** off his desire
but Mrs Bryce
never said a word
not a hint
she wore her middle age
and middle class morals
very well
a mask of gentility
or cultured good humour
good manners on show
but he knew
she was hot
and could go
(her husband
some middle aged guy
with sourness
and boredness
in each greying eye)
and she sat there
giving it the small talk
sipping the wine
one finger raised
her eyes pure
as cut glass
behind the specs
and Lilly listened
in soft admiration
wanting to be nearer
breathing in
Mrs Bryce's scent
dreaming of the two of them
doing whatever in
some bedroom spent
but he had the real
not a dream
and as he watched
Mrs Bryce sipping
her wine
thin lips
on thin glass
he remembered her
that time lying there
bright eyes
greying but dyed hair
he bringing her
to a seventh heaven
of yes and yes
and more
and Lilly sour faced
sitting and listening
to the small talk
but wanting
something other
for sure.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
Typecast within a role,
an empty actor w/o a soul,
to force a smile and flash a wink,
are just effects to make you think,
and camera tricks to let you know,
that I'm o.k. to let you go
Magnanimous loser, once again,
to hide my loss I wear a grin.
I'll kiss your cheek, and hug you brief,
a smile and wink, to hide my grief
and don my costume, once again,
magnanimous loser, my old friend.
I'll deny this one confession,
the latest in a long procession,
of broken hearted bedtime tales,
of hope that dies and love that fails
I'll play the role I know so well
the roll I've played and played to hell.
one more time won't hurt, I guess,
magnanimous loser, I confess.
You'll see me laugh, and socialize,
you'll think I'm strong, you'll think I'm wise,
for I won't cry, or wail and moan,
(at least 'till I get home alone).
sitting at my dressing table,
I wonder if I'll soon be able,
to paint a grin, and choke back tears,
and ignore the pounding in my ears.
Magnanimous loser, can't you see?
doomed to live in misery,
The bad boys win another round
the good guy's gone without a sound.
It's all become an old refrain,
another year, the same old pain
another one gone, another dream ends
another regret, what might have been.
I'll wear the mask, for all to see
that I'm just fine, as fine can be
magnanimous loser, once again,
just for once, I'd like to win.
So pass me up, for I don't mind
just give me time, and I'll be fine.
I'm sure that he's much better than I,
You’ll be so happy, and I’ll get by…
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:28 PM UTC
I’ve walked the fires of Dante’s hell,
yet escaped to feel the rain,
I’ve conquered self deception,
lest it lie to me again.
I’ve seen the logic of insanity,
the chaos in the plan,
I’ve been witness to calamity,
man’s inhumanity to man.
I’ve endured a thousand sleepless nights,
shed tears, and muffled screams,
and tossed and turned a thousand more,
whence dragons ruled my dreams.
I’ve seen seconds pass like seasons,
been imprisoned in my mind,
I’ve been numb that felt like torture,
and known torture that was kind.
No angels stead beside me,
I’ve bourn the brunt of Satan’s wrath,
I’ve spat at Gods who stood the way,
for no God shall bar my path.
I’ve stared down death at my own hand,
yet healed to bear the scars,
It’s only us who have the power
to destroy what would be ours.
I’ve gazed upon the emptiness
kept hidden in my soul,
Yet returned, a weary traveler,
the wiser of my role.
I’ve survived to tell my tale,
to warn of dangers left unnamed,
“Here be tygers!” Aye, ‘tis true;
but tygers can be tamed.
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
The cloud are reflecting off my computer screen
Moving at a rapid pace
They have somewhere to be
They have to move on
Fading into my shadow
They’re like daggers
My head is like daggers
And my smile is like a rifle
Loops one more time
Just picking the achy strings
I think he’s exhausted
Really just ******* tired
And the way he sings
Just wants to speak
And pour all of his heart
Thoughts
Emotions
Pain
Pain
Pain
These pitches, John, they aren’t real
They aren’t right
You aren’t right
I’m listening to this for you
Because last night was the night I took your life
I was tired too
I was tired and used your insecurities
As an excuse
To blow you off
Bryce come back please
I love you
I CAN’T SEE WHAT I’m typing anymore
It’s waterwashed
I love you I love you
I lov you please
Please trust me
My tears are ocean currents
My calves are the sand
Pull me to La Jolla please now
Hold my hand Bryce
You’ll be unconscience in 5 minutes
Fiberglass isn’t all that dependable
Fiberglass will float on
You’re heart is lead
Let it sink
Hold my hand
Let it sink
They’ll find our bodies
Eaten decayed by algae
You look just as fine with your
Skin pruned and ribcage exposed
I would kiss you all the same with your
Toes consumed by fishes
4 times over John
4 times you don’t sound anymore like an answer
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
1. Quit smokin' while you can.
My wife and I been rollin' our own lately
Those things got wax rings in 'em
You're smokin' wax that'll give you cancer
See these 17 year old kids with that mornin' hack
You know it's not from doin' it for years.
2. Be aware of your surroundings.
Some of these kids get so lost in their phones they don't realize they're a target.
Isis could drop right in and pop 'em right there
It's sad.
I got this flip phone.
I can check the time, check the weather
that's all I need.
One person has my number
that's my wife
She's all I need.
3. There's gonna be a revolution.
Last time aristocrats were in power takin' money from the bottom you know what happened?
The French Revolution
It's gonna happen again I can feel it
Republicans think Trump is gonna lead 'em there but he stepped over dead bodies to get where he is
He's not who I'd pick, honestly.
Hilary isn't my first choice either if I could of had my way I'd pick Bernie.
They say oh he's a Socialist like he's some ****
They don't understand the difference.
4. Mary has been working in there 20 years.
Makin' 10 dollars an hour.
That's sad.
I got up to 14 dollars and that's after a two dollar cut in pay
Most those kids won't ever see 15 dollars an hour
I tell 'em get out while you can.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
we can sit up all night in some hotel room,
curled beneath each other, listening to the sound
of heartbeats and old cassette tapes.
you are the kind of girl i want to make mixtapes for.
when i see your smile, i collapse.
you give me the faintest idea of what a heart attack might feel like
and, god ****** i enjoy it.
i remember you telling me that you haven’t felt purposeful
or useful or strong enough to be either
and i looked in your eyes and saw
the only person who’d ever been strong enough
to admit that their only purpose was to be purposeless.
and if life is only lived to find promise,
then what the **** is death for?
i’ve seen god on lonely street corners
where homeless men stare at buses
wishing they had enough change in their cups
to change things.
i’ve seen happiness in the eyes of single motherscarrying three jobs and a failed marriage
in the shopping bags they drag up the stairs.
i’ve seen one bedroom apartments with more space to call home
than you could ever find in that mansion on the hillside.
and i’ve seen you look so helpless
that the only help i could offer
was to let you climb out of it yourself.
i have trouble letting you be.
i have trouble finding myself.
i have trouble being anywhere but in your arms.
there are disciples in your chest
preaching off-balanced wisdom and there are
people written across your skin
all of them whispering,
"you made me feel welcomed.
you made me feel something.”
and if you only understood how lonely the bus rides get
or how hard it is to walk home in the dark
carrying nothing but your heartbreak,
then you would know what it meant
when i told you that you are the only thing
to ever make any of it worth it.
i will write your name in my poetry until it no longer has a meaning.
i will kiss you until my lips no longer make your knees weak.
i was homeless until i met you.
you handed me enough change to change things.
i hope you don’t find better things to do with your day
than to pass by my corner
and smile.
your are purposeful and you are useful
and you never had to be either.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
I used to go to the Bryce Hospital cemetery
at night and sit on a tombstone overlooking the Black Warrior River .
I used to talk to the dead but I gave it up after none of them answered back .
Still I was at ease there in the dark amongst their remains . I had no fears , no worries , no thought of tomorrow . Just a gentle touch of acceptance . I guess you could call it peace .
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
[9/28/13 6:07:47 AM] Saeng Graham: on earth does not mean , they were born from the same time realm
[9/28/13 6:08:02 AM] Saeng Graham: this puts them in perspective
[9/28/13 6:08:07 AM] Saeng Graham: well - for example
[9/28/13 6:08:15 AM] Saeng Graham: my twin akemi whom you heard sing
[9/28/13 6:08:22 AM] Saeng Graham: well she's actually my younger twin sister
[9/28/13 6:08:24 AM] Saeng Graham: fire
[9/28/13 6:08:32 AM] Saeng Graham: but because we both are from 2 years apart ,
[9/28/13 6:08:45 AM] Saeng Graham: and are bOTH gemini
[9/28/13 6:08:47 AM] Saeng Graham: there's a counter balance
[9/28/13 6:08:51 AM] Saeng Graham: -
[9/28/13 6:09:07 AM] Saeng Graham: i THINK
[9/28/13 6:09:07 AM] Saeng Graham: so i think -
[9/28/13 6:09:09 AM] Saeng Graham: maybe
[9/28/13 6:09:12 AM] Saeng Graham: thata
[9/28/13 6:09:24 AM] Saeng Graham: you are my counterbalance - imaginary friend from your childhood
[9/28/13 6:09:42 AM] Saeng Graham: and you are mine - kinda like doing pulling each other up throughout time and space
[9/28/13 6:09:52 AM] Saeng Graham: ''''''''''''
[9/28/13 6:09:55 AM] Saeng Graham: so.
[9/28/13 6:10:08 AM] Saeng Graham: now we've defined that YOUR act form is VERY MUCH NOW IN THE '3D' WORLD
[9/28/13 6:10:17 AM] Saeng Graham: OR AT LEAST
[9/28/13 6:10:22 AM] Saeng Graham: your essence - is possible in that form
[9/28/13 6:10:25 AM] Saeng Graham: weellllllll
[9/28/13 6:10:29 AM] Saeng Graham: then anything is possible
[9/28/13 6:10:34 AM] Saeng Graham: SO IF YOU ARE STILL HERE
[9/28/13 6:10:37 AM] Saeng Graham: AT THIS POINT
[9/28/13 6:10:39 AM] Saeng Graham: I'VE GOT A PARROT ON MY SHOULDER
[9/28/13 6:10:44 AM] Saeng Graham: AN EYE PATCH ON MY EYE
[9/28/13 6:10:49 AM] Saeng Graham: AND I'M ABOUT TO ROCK YOUR ***** ****** WORLD
[9/28/13 6:10:54 AM] Saeng Graham: jokes -
[9/28/13 6:10:59 AM] Saeng Graham: it's double at.....jazz hands -
[9/28/13 6:11:13 AM] Saeng Graham: shot of moonshine
[9/28/13 6:11:17 AM] Saeng Graham: **** of spicy morning zoot
[9/28/13 6:11:22 AM] Saeng Graham: and some roiboosh tea,
[9/28/13 6:11:27 AM] Saeng Graham: a little bit of wine
[9/28/13 6:11:37 AM] Saeng Graham: some smutted rasberrys and age old pistachios
[9/28/13 6:11:38 AM] Saeng Graham: which hum
[9/28/13 6:13:03 AM] Saeng Graham: frightful actually , how ************* scary bryce is.. like....i wouldn't like to have my 'revenge' concocted by him...dark kind guy....nice...but dark....arty kinda dark...so you know it's the kind of super smart kinda dark......but then super emotion kinda dark too....they aren't that hard to spot....
[9/28/13 6:13:11 AM] Saeng Graham: but the bryce i'm talking about
[9/28/13 6:13:17 AM] Saeng Graham: - yeah he's all over the place
[9/28/13 6:13:20 AM] Saeng Graham: always with the bee's
[9/28/13 6:13:22 AM] Saeng Graham: and stuff
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
We assumed you were dead,
Lifeless alone in that bed.
We got news saying your heart was beating,
The thought of losing you was hard bearing.
Still knowing you're in critical state,
Is making us anxious about every update.
Now we pray for your wellbeing,
Stay strong bryce we'll be praying!
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 2:36 PM UTC
Found a friend you could trust,
but you were just being used?
Found someone that you loved,
but they left you abused?
What’s the purpose in living?
Life’s so unforgiving,
life’s a ***** then you die,
so who cares?
So let’s do it my way,
find an end to it all,
take a leap off a bridge,
choose your own curtain call.
When you’re dead for a while,
who’ll remember your name?
It’s all just the same,
so who cares?
Put a gun to your head
find a rope, hang it high,
it’s just a matter of time,
before all of us die.
However you do it,
when it’s over, it’s done,
there’s no winners or losers,
so who cares?
Drive your car off the road,
put a blade to your wrists,
nothing ever goes right,
so why even persist?
When you reach this conclusion,
you’ll see it’s not a delusion,
it’s the truth, and truth is beauty,
but who cares?
So let’s do it my way,
find the end of the highway,
‘cuz at the end of the road,
there’s no more heavy load.
If no-one cares, no-one cries,
if no-one lives, no-one dies,
we’re all better off dead,
so who cares?
If by Nytol O.D.,
or by nuclear bomb,
it’s the same in the end,
you’re dead and you’re gone.
Go to heaven or hell,
on to nothing or limbo,
it’s better than being alive,
so who cares?
…………….Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:46 PM UTC
As we approach the stop sign,
And your road lane begins to disappear,
The sadness washes all around us
I pull at strings to bring you on my path,
You fall still while a smile widens.
A tear falls, the realisation finally reality.
We have no gauge to bring forth certainty
To when your last life grain falls
Down upon the many lessons learnt in your hour glass.
It has been glorious years spent,
Rebelling and repelling social norms of our lives,
Drinking wisdoms out of library glasses
And camping mischief around bridges we built.
Your lives clock is ticking it's last heart beats,
But I'll find you in every life I meet.
You've learnt, you've grown,
you've seen, you've lived
and you've loved.
Keep loving.
Always love, who ever you are
And where ever you end up.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
Skylar,
What if you were told that I
Killed myself?
Ashley,
What would you do?
Maddie,
Would you miss my fake smile?
Mom,
Would you cry?
Dad,
Would you care?
Macky,
Would you miss me?
Tori,
Are you glad?
Bryce,
Would you miss our
Doctor Who days?
Trace,
Would you miss
Cuddling with me?
Mike,
Would your
Lessons be quieter?
Hellopoetry,
Would you miss my words that
Meant so little?
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
There was, every spring, a new batch of pups,
Yipping, nipping, clumsy ***** of ***** fur,
Looking for all the world like speckled tennis *****
Before they’d learned any hard lessons
At the hands of a racquet.
They chased their tails and each other,
Not to mention various other denizens of the barnyard:
Frantic chicks, cranky piglets,
The occasional bemused draft horse,
And sometimes they chased us as well,
Yelping childishly, rolling with us on the ground,
Nipping bare fingers and toes,
Afterwards lying on the ground asleep,
Looking , save for the rhythmic twitching of their paws,
Positively angelic.
Come late August,
The time would come to set them on the *****
We’d long since stopped thinking about it,
Much less questioning it
(I had, one year, asked my father if the puppies had to go
One time too many until,
With a look that brooked no further conversation,
He said flatly It’s what they’re born to.)
So we went on with the business
Of the soft, slow late summer
Until one evening just after sunset
We would hear the baying of the hounds
Out toward the back fields,
Mechanical and workmanlike at first,
But soon strained and syncopated with excitement,
And at some point there would be
A cacophony of cries and snarls
Until such time there was only silence.
The next morning we would visit the dogs,
And we’d pet them and rough-house a bit,
And there might be an oddly rouged spot
On their coats here and there,
Or one of them might sneeze out a tuft of fur
That didn’t rightly belong to them,
And every year our Uncle Bryce would slyly opine
*You boys may want to be a bit more careful
Around their mouths now, hear*?
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
You know what most amazes me?
is not that so many need therapy,
but that so many people don’t!
I mean, it seems my life to me
is a daily test of my ability,
to hold on to my sanity,
to keep a grip on what’s real,
and what’s important,
to struggle for what’s right,
while so many of those around me,
seem bent on self-destruction,
it’s a tragedy beyond conception!
Which is why I need
time on my own,
in the mountains all alone,
no human face to haunt me,
but the faces in my mind.
Time to catch my breath,
a vacation from the motion
of all the mental commotion
the people moving
through the streets
‘till they seem to all stand still.
Now don’t get me wrong!
Life is the most beautiful thing there is,
but what is life, after all?
We must define it,
or forever search the darkness.
We must succeed,
or take the blame for the fall.
Is a rock alive?
Of course not!
but then again
the most modest grain of sand
will surely out-live you!
Is a virus alive?
or a bug, or grass or a squirrel?
These things “live”,
but without self-conception,
are nothing more
than nature’s automatons
reproducing, pain avoiding, pleasure seeking machines.
How can they be “alive”?
After all, what is life, without a knowledge of life?
to be alive, one must know one is alive,
and must also know
that life is no guarantee,
not even of life itself,
for we all must die.
The road we’re on will surely end,
life’s single guarantee,
is that death is our destiny!
Life is the journey!
It seems to me
we must seek to be
more than just automatons.
To think, before we act,
to choose temporary pain
over spirit killing fear,
to choose life over death,
and choose death
over a life not lived!
We must choose to help each other
for we shall surely need help ourselves,
I want to live in a world of love and understanding,
and the strength of forgiveness
toward those who trespass against me,
in hope that my trespasses
shall be forgiven in kind.
For what are we?
we are social creatures,
driven by our nature
toward contact with one another
for better or worse!
Companionship,
unlike air, food, water,
is not what makes life possible,
it’s what makes life worth living!
Which is why
I come down from my mountain,
to face the throngs,
and fight the crowds in their misery,
and repress the insanity,
if just for today,
to laugh and cry with my friends…
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
I have a conception, a wonderful plan,
an escape from our sorrows and castles of sand,
for a while or two, for an evening or day,
if you’ll just hear me out, lend an ear what I say…
Let’s pretend we’ve been married for thousands of years,
our hearts never broken, our eyes void of tears,
we’ll laugh and make merry, we’ll dance and we’ll dine,
as though none have grown closer than your heart and mine
All the people who see us would wish they could be,
as in love with their lover as you are with me,
our arms ‘round each other, we’ll cuddle and kiss,
and no-one around will think any’s amiss
All alone on our own, in the crowd and the throng,
in a part of the world where fears don’t belong,
hand in hand, heart in heart, with the hounds drawing near,
knowing under the surface, thing aren’t what appear
When the stars take their places, the evening is done,
we’ll part with a handshake as when we’d begun,
to return to our caverns, and weep just because,
our relationscape’s over, and yet never was…
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:48 PM UTC
Liner notes, notes of pain,
thoughts we'll never meet again,
and the winter stays on my mind...
cries of anger, cries of pain,
I cry we'll never meet again,
and the winter stays on my mind...
Yet the wind still blows,
and the past still knows,
and as darkness draws ‘er near,
the winter stays on my mind...
So farewell, my friend, 'till we meet again,
'till sunny meadow and forest rain
keep winter on the line...
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
Alarm bell rings, the snooze bar brings, a few more precious dreams.
Another day to rise too soon, or so it always seems.
In bed I’ve found my happiness, in bed I want to stay,
Why must I face a thousand cares, of yet another day?
I shower, dress, and comb my hair, I floss and then I brush,
A mirrored stare, through hollow eyes, takes time to join the rush.
Some coffee, strong, a bite to eat, I head out of the door,
And drive away, my spirits low, as though I’m off to war.
But then I see, in front of me, a sight that’s so profound!
My spirits rise, with widened eyes, and turns my heart around!
The trees bejeweled, and splendor bound, in seas of snowy white!
The mountains, crisp, in air so clear, are wrapped in waves of light!
To gaze upon the beauty held, in such a wondrous sight,
Reminds me of a story, told, to save us from the night.
Three men upon a zebra gazed, pray tell what would they say?
Where one saw black stripes, one saw white, and one saw shades of gray.
Expectations seldom lie, conclusions lead the way.
And thus I’ve found, that I, alone, am maker of the day.
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:47 PM UTC
I need me a spirit, a human soul,
Somebody my body to keep,
to lay down beside me, and rock-a-by softly,
as I fail to drift off to sleep,
to sing me a lullaby, gentle, yet pure,
of promises kept in the night,
for my mind it doeth wander to terrible places,
where love turns to anger and spite.
Maria, if you’d be so bold,
as to tell me a story of old,
a fantasy fairytale of true love’s triumph,
over anguish of hearts grown cold.
If left to my daemons, my madness draws near'r,
‘till belatedly morning arrives,
a new day of promise, yet I barely notice,
perpetual sleep in my eyes…
Maria, if you could conceive,
a story for mine ears, to weave,
a fantasy fairytale of “love conquers all”,
Like the ones that I used to believe…
Dan Bryce
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Psalm 96:6 - Splendor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary.
I think of the cliffs of Zion,
the Hoodoos of Bryce,
and the grandeur of
the Grand Canyon.
The splendor and majesty
I've seen on this earth
cannot compare to that
which is before you, O Lord.
I've seen your strength
on display in the power
you used to lift these,
like pillars, from the earth;
and I've seen the beauty
that is in your mind,
forming masterworks
from dust and stone.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 11:51 AM UTC
So you all know Bryce Hellion Christiansen is another profile now for one of the trolls
Thanks brandon!!!
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
I had a dream that
All the people I've ever loved or
Cared about last night
Took turns to do terrible,
terrible things to me.
Mike, you told me that
You never cared about me.
Skylar, you told me
I never mattered.
Ashley, you said you
Just pretended to be my friend.
Mom, you didn't say much except for hitting
Me like you used too.
Dad, you left. Again. And again. And again.
Tori, you told me to lose more
Weight because I'm fat.
Bryce, you told me the Doctor wasn't real.
Macky, you told that
All those times you
Touched me was because
I was useless.
Joey, that you never really did love me and
That you never will.
Mrs.Jennie, I'm not your daughter, Am I?
And so many more...
But last but not least,
I saw myself.
Looking at me.
Smirking that evil smirk.
Laughing,
And taunting me.
Telling me over and
Over again that
I'll never be good enough.
I woke up crying and
I knew why they thought I
Might be capable of suicide.
It's because I'm just so weak.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
From the backseat I draw in the cherry spark.
The smoldering ember is like a blood clot
trickling through the joint similar to a blood channel.
Crackling gently the paper incinerates backwards.
Leaning back, lazy lungs breathe and revel in the scent of recreation.
Musical frequencies pulse through the skeletal struts of Dj’s car.
Rhythm and rhymes nestle close to the curve of my spine;
the bass sinking in deep into the folds of my clothes.
Blue brushed lighting flows through the windows in slants.
For an instant I find myself in rumination quickly leading to ruination.
Cows in the distance low to us, intrigued, pulling me back.
Holding fast I overcome the air restriction.
Gathering the smoke into my mouth I shape my lips and blow.
Hazy rings begin to slowly emerge from my mouth.
Taking aim I direct the loops over the back of Bryce’s head.
It gives the distinct impression of a halo
as the rings inhale and expand before disappearing
like an ethereal specter into his dark hair.
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 2:20 PM UTC
Remember those days you were stubborn? Those days this day has born.
Remember those days you robbed?
Now, today, you're being robbed.
Remember those days you're wicked? Now, look! There's a man at the door, his name: Mr Wicked
Remember those days you beat your mama?, guess what? Your salary this days is being paid by karma.
She explains cause and effect. It's simple y'know; you give, you get
The actions of a man she never forgets, today is a child yesterday
Begets.
So, make her the reason you're circumspect. Learn to obey and respect.
It's natural; what you sow you reap. The deeds of men she confirms they reap.
She rewards handsomely;
She rewards purnishingly.
Hey! Don't just read for the fun of the rhymes; see the massage behind the rhymes.
Bryce Paul Matthias
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC