The Silence Inn / A Witch's Knot

I've had a great surge of creative energy towards writing. I have been writing through the past 2 days with very little sleep. Powerful creative energy can not be ignored and consequently I've written about 10 new poems. I wanted to dedicate this post to two of these new poems. They explore some darker images and I thought showing ya'll this perspective of my work might be interesting. Let me know what you think.
______________

The Silence Inn

The brutal wave of
rain and jealously
followed me that night
as I sipped
strong lukewarm coffee
at the Silence Inn.

Bloodshot eyes staring
back at me, smiling
taunting me, thunder crash
and the storm laughed.

If I wanted to
the prickled bosom of
Room 134
would have welcomed
a splitting wired mind.

Yet someone
must have been in that storm
and I needed to find
who.

A mist arose
throughout the
Devil’s Playground

And then all I could hear
was the faint echo of a
child giggling.

And I laughed.
__________________________

A Witch's Knot

Does the bitter blood
soaked through this towel
excite you?

I smell your lust
and its cologne is a cliff
facing the unknown.

Angels are said to
drink inked dreams.

But I must protect my
dreams
(I have so
few). Hence

The towel,
the cliff,
the blood an aching lull.

It is finished
this spell
a clotted vessel
in a witch’s knot
swims gently on.
___________________________

If anyone is looking for some really hot Hip Hop I STRONGLY recommend getting Nicki Minaj's mixtapes. Not only does she embody ferocity, but the music rocks too!

That's all for today! God Bless!

-Brian

Verses in an Empty Travel Guide

New set of short poems.

Verses in an Empty Travel Guide

I.

Stare blissfully into the
eye of Fate’s anvil
as Time hammers in the

Sharp edges of tonight.
If you survive the oven
cackling witches’ curses.

II.

I’ve been told
I’m insane.
I won’t argue with those
who don’t speak to mirrors
Or who don’t butter both
sides of their toast.

Not a single dandelion grows
out of my palm
since the day I was committed.
And Earth’s famine (mankind) gives me
heartburn.

III.

View this tapestry:

A young man’s metal god
drinks to the health of
the molten core.

Unaware, he sings a din
while violins revolt
and set his piano on fire.

The fire.
That is what catches the eye.


IV.

He lives in a fantasy
of sour chameleon breath,
constantly trying to guide

The poor beast down a
less slippery slope.

If he only knew
casting a pebble would
save their lives.

V.

Children drip puddle wet hands
and drink the dirt’s broth.

The boom of father’s voice,
the chill of mother’s hand,

Allows life’s deadline
longer rein.
A shallow symphony.

Poetry Contest

Thanks to TWT_POETRY on Twiter I was made aware of a little poetry contest and I entered it. It had really unique prompts and how can I shy away from a challenge. The two prompts I chose to include were "I've never kissed a frog because," and "Freedom."
I'd love to know what ya'll think!
________________

Translation

Distant castles speak mystery onto
many feathered
messengers,
speaking in tongues only the
crescent moon wearily translates.

But I hear whispers…

And they tell me they understand
the wind.
They say the wind speaks in
shells on the beach
and empty rooms where a
golden mushroom decays into gold.

Why then do I still
open my window at night?

It’s the gossip in giggles,
never ending the
same as
when they began,

When you
know you have heard
a spark questioning its freedom.

Truth is a game we play as children.

And yet the gods of the forest yell
in vain for man to see
the reason.

And we all forget Love’s diction;
the dreamless held husband
shedding tears only
his pillow understands.

And the wind…

Why else do you think I’ve never kissed a frog?

As life continues...

I am happy to say that my time spent in Austin so far has been quite productive. I'm still a poor struggling artist, but I don't think you can be a true artist unless you start poor and struggling ;-). I have decided, therefore, to begin writing more often. I want to start portraying the mirror of the world through my own "rose-colored glasses."

I have begun a project writing haiku. Here are a few:

Manic night, breathe in
Colorful plumes ascending
From my cigarette.
____

Looming blimp of dreams,
When will you descend on me?
Sleep recoils, then flees.
____

Trust this fairytale:
A bloodied shoe does not fit
And princesses fade.


I have been writing these like mad and hope to make them a permanent form I can use in my poetry.

Here are some amazing albums I have been listening to:

Ke$ha's new album Animal is wonderfully dirty pop. There is a sense of "I know what I'm doing is wrong, but right now it doesn't matter." The hooks are instantly catchy and the beats are edgy while still being perfect in a club.

David Guetta's new album One Love is a monument in describing the sentiments so many people are feeling in these unstable days. His dark and gritty beats sound like bruises on the soul of the lyrics which are a welcome juxtaposition. The lyrics, in general, have an overarching sense of internal strength and hope that a lot of lyrics these days portray. They have a heartening but simultaneously an almost angry edge. Guetta's history as a DJ lead to some serious House influence which sometimes becomes tedious, though the minimalistic atmosphere it creates is nice enough.

Mike Posner is a new hip hop artist who has two fantastic mixtapes out. They used to be free on iTunes though I believe that has changed. The beats are well done and catchy while the lyrics are entertaining and some quite humorous. Some gems include a cover of Beyonce's Halo which is classic and Smoke and Drive. A must listen and an artist I will be anxiously awaiting a first album.


I love my wide range of passions and want to show that here. So moving before finishing up I want to list a couple of the books I have recently read and fell in love with.

Sum by David Eagleman is a book of very short stories dealing with different possibilities for the afterlife. Engaging, and ranging from depressing to hilarious, these stories are a very good read.

Book of my Nights by Li-Young Lee is, in my opinion, one of the most prolific poets of the 21st century. His poetry speaks to the mind of the insomniac as well as everyone who has ever questioned existence. His rapidly changing imagery requires slow study but creates such depth and beauty. Please read this poet.

Thats all for today. Thank you all and God Bless!