camouflage

dreams flew in midnight rains

as the moon sunk in the flooding banks

i’ve fallen to pieces in the mud

and now i’m out for blood

*

dreams cut through veins

as my misplaced soul sinks in the camouflaged sins

i’ve fallen to pieces in the mud

and now i’m out for blood

*

was it me or was it my heart opening to quick

god damned insecurities

growing in life’s fucking impurities

was it the untold story

that got me living under the shadow of shame

*

dreams flew in midnight rains

as the moon drowned in the flooding banks

i’ve fallen to pieces in the mud

and now i’m out for blood

*

 assassinate this pain

and all its beautiful mess where i’m caged in

destroy all this dirty air i breathe

and all of its advertising campaign where it seeps

*

was it me

or was it my heart opening to quick;

in these god damned insecurities

growing in life’s fucking impurities; 

another unwritten chapter in the untold story

that got me living under the shadow of shame

dear camouflage i’ve made,

love

the self sabotage i have made

c. May 2019. BGW

between the oceans and stars

through the silence of an alarming absence

words spoke through a screaming cloak

eyes seek and souls sought

and yet have i been with not?

through the lingering dreams in a balance

words wrote themselves in a sun rising blister

through the silence of an alarming absence

words spoke through a screaming cloak

a moon’s light shone and reached the ships shadowing habits

and left the oceans waves between the lines and words

eyes seek and souls sought

and yet have i been with not?

between the oceans and stars

between the emotions and the scars;

a soul drowns because it was without

through the silence of an alarming absence

words spoke through a screaming cloak

i want you, and i always will

i love you, and always will

cory’s crying

cubed squared pictures

sat in a sunset liquor

tasting a memory

in smoky whiskey Rye

//

the autumn leafs fell

in the hands of protocol

see where we drove through

in all the hell

just to get this far,

in the right here

in the right now

//

rear view mirror

rear view mirror

//

cubed squared pictures

sat in a sunset liquor

tasting the memory

in a smoky whiskey rye

//

22 years can run away quickly

but it never can hide

where your body lays,

were the moon pulled

out what you are

//

the autumn leafs fell

in the hands of protocol

see where we drove

through the hell

just to get this far,

in the right here

in the right now

//

i’ll never be

nevermore in what you see

and I can’t be

what you remember me as

 

 

c.2018 bgw

somewhere between the mist and fallen leaves

in the broken depth

is a shadow.

blinded, blackened,

dark

soul within these walls

oh!, release;

an awaiting knife’s edge

sharp and ready

metal blade

digging deep,

kissing deep

within the skin

upon the cold wooden floor

blood slowly draws,

pooling below;

jetted back eyes

echoing dream flashing before.

a haunting falls

deep within these dark lonely halls,

framed pictures

stare,

memories

brake,

shatter like glass

in a depth

frothing shadow!

blinded and blackened

dark

soul within these walls

oh!, release;

an awaiting knife’s edge

sharp and ready

forsaken!

and well within

the depth of autumn woods

somewhere between

the mist and fallen leaves

a body lies stiff and cold!

who put it there?!,

find the answers chanting with bones,

in the freshly dug grave

i have gladly made!

 

 

c2018 bgw

 

 

 

 

when the rain kisses the leaves

tainted and tinted

the rain taps on a hollow tin roof.

the wind whispers

as the whisps spoke;

through the flashes of bright lightning

the snap of a rolling thunder,

tainted and tinted

leaves dance in a whipping motion;

here comes the storm

//

morning sunshine

looking in the morning window

were these dreams of mine

yesterday is today’s widow

//

tainted and tinted

the rain taps on a hollow tin roof.

the wind whispers

 as the whisps spoke;

through the flashes of bright lightning

the snap of a rolling thunder,

tainted and tinted

leaves dance in a whipping motion;

here comes the storm

c 2018 bgw

 

 

(september) when morning falls

when morning calls

freedom falls

in halls of

bright blue skies shine;

someone calls

and all is fine

the fireball cries

someone calls

to say good-bye;

hearts beat between choices!

a hero’s  fight between choices!

wife, mother

husband, father

brother, sister

daughter, son

good morning!

the sun kisses all

the sun kisses us all!;

when morning shone

we went about

without doubt,  when we awoke

we’d see each other by dinner;

so we Dropped the kids off at school

hugged them and kissed them

and couldn’t wait for 

cartoon popcorn movie night;

when morning calls

freedom falls in halls

bright blue skies shine

someone calls and all is fine

fireball cries

someone calls to say good-bye

hearts beat between choices

through the smoke of confusion

he saw her eyes shining in flashback

the way her hand-held his

oh! when morning calls

freedom falls

in halls

of bright blue coloured skies shine;

someone calls and all is fine

fireball cries

and someone calls to say good-bye

hearts beat between choices

in last morning coffee sip

a last goodbye kiss

did we argue? did we make love?

a last hug embrace 

a last good morning joking;

when morning calls

freedom falls in halls

of bright blue skies shine

someone calls and all is fine;

a fireball cries

someone calls to say good-bye

hearts beat between choices

broken in a hero’s glass

      dreams brake and fall fast….

hearts beat between choices!

a hero’s fight between choices!

           but the sun always kisses us good morning

c. 2016, 2018  bgw

writer’s block

i’m not going to sugar coat it.

to tell you that it’s just a case of writers block

would be the farthest from the truth.

the ideas of new overflow in my head;

the ability to write has seemed to have temporary disappeared

something’s missing when she isn’t here with me.

like hurdling a wall that can’s even be climbed,

the frustration mounts as the ideas get blocked by distractions.

the audience awaits for another desired rhyme,

but the stage sits empty.

just is the momentary season of without

and a life without is just that -just.

i sit with my pen and paper,

and all i do is just stare at a blank piece of imagination.

looking for that moment of breakthrough that brings another fulfilling story.

letters drawn up to form words,

but the words have nowhere to go,

and draw up the incompletion instead.

mumble jumble nonsense goes nowhere

and the thought of the stories once written mislead.

i’ve sat in this chair night after night,

trying my best to complete just a paragraph or two,

and i can’t even do that.

//

her memory makes me smile

her memory makes me desire.

her eyes, her smile

and the way her hand fits in mine.

i can still feel her under the flannel sheets

as the fire crackles through the wine glass clinks

we drank a toast to the past, and we drank a toast to the future

i can still feel her under the flannel sheets.

the laughs always came in conversation

and the tears always would fall when talk about the parting.

two hours behind and yet what seems like 10,000 miles in between.

her memory makes me smile

her memory makes me desire.

her eyes, her smile

and the way her hand fits in mine.

i can still feel her under theses flannel sheets.

//

in winter’s cold and snowy landscape,

there sat my cabin.

outside;

blanketed by the over night snow.

and did you know, inside,

it’s warm and woodsy,

the fire roars and heats the frozen thoughts i pen out .

a passionate kiss;

the moment when her lips touches mine

the way we hold each other when we sleep;

now a loving memory and a desired hope to be again.

but i’m not going to sugar coat it.

to tell you that it’s just a case of writers block

would be the farthest from the truth.

the ideas of new overflow in my head;

the ability to write has seemed to have temporary disappeared

something’s missing when she isn’t here with me.

like hurdling a wall that can’s even be climbed,

the frustration mounts as the ideas get blocked by distractions.

the audience awaits for another desired rhyme,

but the stage sits empty.

just is the momentary season of without

c 2017 bgw