bearly-lion49-blog

[bearly-lion49-blog]

My eldest brother Jeremiah, who has long hair

The air seemed lighter on the night it all occurred/

My head lay horizontal on feathers as I recounted what I had just heard/

Floorboards separated me from relevance, & bared me from voiced opinion/

The dust of the event is still floating in its creation/

Slurred words from my eldest brother Jeremiah bounce off the two story, red chipped paint home in eastern Wyoming/

I have sensed his longing during the early morning chores in his existential yawning/

Hints of thoughts trail through his curious demeanor/

From infancy of our plastic like mindset gives us natural wonder from a learning to observing attitude of a believer/

I believe he has not believed in a very long time, I believe he has lost faith because of his loss of sight/

My father’s booming voice scares the cocks clock of when to awaken the world/

His hair is dusted from many earthly seasons/

Sun rays have burnt & blended his skin more than once to color his crows feet to the surface/

I visualize the finger he points like the dagger into the salmons stomach to clean out the unnecessary & in this moment my father does the same to his kin, cleaning out sin/

His clean shaven skin bares only a small mark from dawns premature shave/

The thoughts of cattle not selling grows thoughts of anxiety blurring his weekly routine/

He worries for the future of his land, home & family/

Now his eldest son Jeremiah approaches him in his time of peace/

I’ve never heard sound of hate until I heard it leave the lips of my brother/

I’ve never felt the pounding of disownment scatter like a buckshot from my father/

My feet tickle with anticipation to attempt a crawl to the door/

Slip an ear to the exterior to hear what I fear will cripple me to my core/

It’s not from the idea of more chores that I’ll have to take, it’s that cold coffee depression of losing what I cannot hate/

I float above my thoughts that plan out my

soft arrival like a winter chill/

I’ll narrow my eyes down each step like shadows overtaking where the sun peaks through the window glass while the ball of fire sinks behind the hills/ I can smell the candle flickering, see the red wine resting on the table top/ I feel the tension rocking like the chair mother would sit on while viewing the swells that would hydrate the crops/

Finally my ten toes would gather together feet away from the encounter/

Dismal stances like minutemen maintaining their position would alter my stance on where to gather/

To choose the mountain of my creation, provider of my belly & mind or to explore an unknown world with my brother/

In this thin aired moment of mental pull I can hear Jeremiah open his mouth to pour out bitter words/

“You’ve never looked at me since the day he went, you’ve never loved me since he past/ I never once asked for you to forget about him, but I never thought you’d forget the rest of us”/

The word him echoes like a clap in a cave/

Who could possibly be the wedge in between a father & sons loving display/

What could have possibly been the hangnail annoying the healing/

Questions in my head keep reeling/

My eyes are a drunkard behind the wheel/

I see nothing but darkness as I start to realize none of this is real/

I choke on the lack of air my heart refuses to give/

I was never really here as a witness/

I begin to understand that death paralyzed the bridge to forgiveness/

Two shattering losses/

My mother dealt with such lack of joy that her smile was a once in a year occurrence/

Even when we saw her teeth we all had a weight of disturbance/ she was beautiful & kind like both my sisters with such elegance like ballerinas who have mastered their dance/ Her skin was a fresh blanket of snow on a December morning/ So It rattles my brain to try to understand how someone without loss could be living in such mourning/ My mother wasn’t timid or bitter she just grew quiet & stoic/

I didn’t know what was harder, watching a father who broke his back & still lost her eye,

or a woman transformed into a mannequin & him a shopper passing by/

She needed help/

Not from religion or that blessed water/

She needed medicine & a caring doctor/

The path she tried to take took her in circles until she was unable to recognize satan in disguise/

So why did she take her youngest son with her when she decided it was time to say goodbye/ It was thievery what she did on August 8th when I was just 8/

Shaking me awake to plan her grand escape/

I remember the confusion in my 90 pound eye lids still caught in the clouds/

What was real or fake I have now to understand at the state of my fate/

Her finger to her mouth screamed for silence so father wouldn’t awake/

As my mind began to ponder the events unfolding, my arm became the rope in a tug a war that I was losing/

Whimpers escaped my chest as I begin to push back against the plans in motion/

My eyes dart awake to see I’m sleep walking & the river has consumed me into a helpless transformation/

Mother left the world when I was to young to understand but never growing up to know her as a man/

It seems she became the conductor of the night, pulling a spotlight on herself to evolve my dreams into a haunting REM/

She Took her last sigh as she hallowed out like the coffin we set her in/

I knew only the blank stare of a ghostly demeanor/

Now we have switched places through life’s condescending sense of humor/

Cold water gushed through my legs dragging me down/

I fought for tree branches or a hope that I wouldn’t drown/

I remember the fingers stretched out for my flailing hands/

Jeremiah howling like a wolf after a lamb/

He launches his torso to & fro to a mad chance that he wouldn’t have to let me go/

Inches from a different outcome, the current has devious motives of joy being robbed/

I then remember the moment where the world stopped/ his eyes met mine as my head went under/ his change of appearance, his altered mood, all of this was no longer wonder/

Jeremiah’s long hair was for the amount of years that had gone by without his brother.

[bearly-lion49-blog]

Cocaine Wonderland

I see thirty pink clouds coming over the bay/

Harsh wind hits them so they sway/

Vanilla flavored depression drips like coffee/

I try to cough it out but it's more than an allergy/

Maybe one more hit, just one last sniff/

I've got a bad feeling when I don't feel that feeling/

I hear the demons start screaming through the ceiling/

one more trip down the rabbits hole to free me/

I wonder when I'll wander out of wonderland/

I feel the gator circling my boat trying to eat me/

An orange suited man asks me if I want to feel everything/

The reaper laughs with jackals as they tease me/

I told myself to not enter that purple ecstasy/

I screamed at you for trying to stop me/

Oh me myself and I/

We've all gotten ourselves in this colorful life/

But the book never gave me the lines to draw in/

So I wrote the pictures with my blissful mind/

Cuz a cocaine blaze is a perfect way to die,

yeah a cocaine blaze is dreadful way to unwind.

[bearly-lion49-blog]

6 Lines

Let’s talk about the curls in your skin

Deep existential whims in your limbs

Howling dogs like winds over the hills

Haunting revelations interrupting the kill

Let’s listen to the colors dropping from the clouds

One million different faces blurring the canvas in and out