she’s looking for pain
that pulsates in the darkest hour,
I am not on call, I cannot
rush to her aid, but I long
to be her fulfillment, however,
she says my search for happiness
I find myself in a riddle, mixed
within markers that bypass a selected
territory. I carry my weight in pain
on my shoulders, eager to take
a chance on this woman who
counts clouds backwards and chews cinnamon flavored gum.
little pet peeves of mine, swept
under the rug, avoided like
the elephant in the room.
she braces herself for sunlight that has been tapping on her eyelids for decades, begging for entry.
there is no safe passage.
she has boarded up her
fragile heart and I collect
salty tears from the edge of
her lids, cup them in my
soul, and pray for forgiveness.
I am not the bluest. I can only give her part-time sadness and this… this scares her.
Every once in a while, I come across a young Writer who surpasses what I expect from that young one–Braden is exactly that type of Writer. He does not back down from a challenge and can flip micropoetry into long form and back to micropoetry without missing a bit. He is this month’s feature. Braden is in his last year at the University of Georgia and was just recently accepted to complete his Master’s as well. He is one of my favorite Writers to collaborate with and each time our minds meet, we make something so very special.
There will be two of his works published here today; one, a 5-word response to the topic of “Rejection” and the other is a superb poem that highlights the torment of humanity, the possible fall of love, and the gods who rule the world, but still let it crumble among its men.
humans turn their
belly-up, barbed branches
tearing apart their
seams. watch them fight a war now,
play-things enamored with the indefinite —
losing their minds over
elusive and tormenting
because they once had a taste
of such heavenly ambrosia.
watch from the skyline,
eagle-eyed overhead with underhanded
magic, lancets slice through
pseudo-divine blood pacts.
wonder the questions, wander
for answers —
why do they eat up the inevitable?
piece apart timelines, time
zones separate then and now isolation is human nature.
with a flicking wrist
we could decimate
would cower at the thought.
but in their ignorance exists
unfeigned fortitude, solidified
by their thirst for ungodly