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Bron Dayvid, 2 december 2013
She Wonders
I wonder if she thinks about me
A selfish thought indeed
As if I was ever that important
As if I didn't wish I still was
But the mind forgets what the heart obscures
And we have lost more than touch
Time - my wonderful companion has become a mortal enemy
I wonder if she still thinks about me
A selfish thought indeed
Because I only think of her in moments like this
A fleeting feeling that can't be trusted
So infectious and corrupted
I wonder if she still thinks about me
In the morning or before she rests her head
I wonder if I cross her mind even though another may lie in her bed
I don't dream about her
But I slip sometimes and my mind runs
The thing I desire has no reality parallel to this one's
But again
I do not dream about her
Though I am in a dream
I wonder if I'll wake
I wonder if she dreams
I wonder if she thinks about me
Maybe I should call
A number that is no more known then she
A 5 a 3 I can’t recall
I wonder if she still knows mine
I would answer if she did
I wouldn't know it was her but I'd hope it would be
And even if it wasn't I still would hope
That she thinks of me
At least once
Because sometimes I can't stop
And I know it's selfish because I know she never had a choice
Only mine only me
I wonder if she still thinks of me
And if so
I wonder if it's a positive thought
Or was I a mistake
Surely a thought I regret even thinking
But it is far too late
I wonder if she thinks of me
A little or a lot
I wonder if she knows sometimes I can't stop
Like this time
And the time long ago
And a few weeks before then
And another month or so even then
All the way to the last thought of her that I had
It's been awhile since then
Maybe I’m making progress
Maybe I haven't thought of her as much as I would like to think I do
I think I think too much
I wonder if she does too
Bron Dayvid, 6 october 2013
Saturday Morning
It was a cool Saturday morning
The dew from the lawn seasoned the air
With a refreshing scent that floated on a gust of wind right into our open bedroom window
She kisses my chest and gives me new breath
Everything magnifies
The slight breeze becomes a magnificent whirlwind
That gently lifts and carries two souls off into eternity –
A perpetual state of free fall
Holding on to nothing but each other
The souls' eyes never part
Never glance forwards or backwards
Never losing the captivating captivity each has found in the other's gaze
She kisses my lips and the love persists
Everything magnifies
The sunlight tiptoeing through the blinds
Suddenly bursts into enormous flames engulfing all
Fermenting two hearts to dive into the pit of its fiery warmth
To let the sensation of the heat of the moment braze the two hearts into one
Inseparable intertwined
Indestructible enshrined
In this bed we lie
And then she asks
Why do you love me?
Hmm.
Why does the wind blow, brushing against your soft skin?
Why does the sun shine, illuminating and radiating your beauty?
Why does the earth spin, as two spirits dance and twirl in harmony?
And why does one "try" to love, when love is the universe?
So you see I love you……….period.
There is no one reason
Or one word or phrase
That can adequately express this more than what the universe has already provided
Bron Dayvid, 9 september 2013
Love Again
I want to love again
I want to drift aimlessly in your warmth
I want to fall as a drunkard from the sweet taste of the elixir on your lips
I want to lay my head across your chest and count the beats of your heart until it synchronizes with mine
I want that never ending
Forever in the present
Forever in your presence
I want your fingers to submerge into the roots of my hair and dance from nap to nap to the rhythm of you
I want you to tell me you love me over and over even though I know but act as If I have Amnesia
Act as if I’m hard of hearing
I want you to act like nothing but your beautiful self
I want to wake up to your beautiful face next to mine
I want you to know you’re beautiful
I want you to hear it everyday
I want you to see it
I want you to feel it
I want you to feel me
I want you to want me
As bad as I want you
Then I want you to sleep
In hope that you might have the same dream that I have
The dream were we're still in love
The one where you still know I exist
The one where we still care
The dream I have every night
The same dream I wish you would have
Then maybe it could stop being a dream
And maybe I could stop being afraid to sleep
Because I dream about the dream but I dread when I awake without the dream girl
I don't want the dream
I just want the dream girl
I just want love again
I just want love
Bron Dayvid, 12 july 2013
As Bad As It Seams
At the core of poverty lies a thick quilt of malice
Embroidered in greed
And fabricated promises
Stitched by the tailor and seamstress
Whose hands,
callused and bruised by years of depression ,oppression and
Intermediate progression, thwarted by "inadvertent" regression,
threads the very needle that severs their souls and punctures their spirits
It is Unbeknownst to the tailor and seamstress that the very quilt they sew, once completed, will wrap itself around their throats, deplete their life's earnings, and render them lifeless
The tailor and seamstress, broken, aged and afflicted with angst, will be said to have had self-inflicted wounds when they discover their bodies
Investigations will find no objecting evidence
Their families will mourn
Their bodies will be buried
But the quilt
The smothering life absorbing quilt
Will continue to be threaded ,stitched, and patched
Bron Dayvid, 12 july 2013
ART
The greatest honor that any artist can receive for a piece of art is to have it render its spectators absolutely speechless
In doing so any artist has done one of two extremes
The artist has either created such a masterpiece that's its transcendent beauty and otherworldliness leaves even the most astute critic devoid of thought
The grandeur of this work of art is so intense that once observed
Its image is burned into the soul of viewer like a brand to an unsuspicious calf
"Genius!" they'll yell prematurely
And whatever other words they can find to calculate and depreciate the value of the art
Or the contrary
The artist could have created something so unworldly something so sullied something so appalling and mindless that the neat pompous critics simply brush it away as if not to get a spec of dirt on their lavish sports coats
Breathless as in not worth a single gasp of air
Speechless as if unworthy of diction
And yet this is still an honor for any artist
For in their ignorance in their incompetence is complete silence
The stillness necessary for true beauty to speak for itself
Bron Dayvid, 6 march 2013
10sion
1. How do you go about respecting a man who neglects to respect himself?
2. How do you begin to love a woman who has no knowledge of its existence?
3. How can you mend a broken heart with one that has already been shattered?
4. How can you find a smile in such a vile pit of matter?
5. How can one take life from self without taking self from life?
6. How can one be forgiven for sacrifice?
7. Why must the innocent be burdened with guilt?
8. What pleasure is there in bearing the malignancy of others?
9. Why do we continually destroy what again will be rebuilt?
10. Why do we surrender to suffer?
Bron Dayvid, 7 january 2013
A Letter to Anonymity
I shall call you anonymous.
For to summon the strength necessary for your name to pass my lips; requires a power far beyond my hardly humble existence.
Dear Anonymous:
Seems like eons since our eyes met
And ages since our mouths conducted stale symphonies
Words so translucent that as speakers we ourselves became transparent
Shallow as an empty shot of vodka leaving the throat rancid and molten
A burning sensation we so despairingly longed for
Neither of us could reject it nor could we even hesitate to refill our glass
Sometimes our voices clashed
Violently
Flailing hopelessly as if drowning in loneliness
Clinging desperately to the other’s words in a shameless attempt at staying afloat
Multiple times I let you drown
Only to be framed as your rescuer
Judas is thy savior
But In all fairness
We both were blind
By our naivety
By the lasciviousness that comes along with hormonal adolescence
And by haunting backgrounds that were much too tumultuous to properly prepare us for such an emotional and physical relationship
I could taste the vulnerability on your lips
I, with more guile then gullibility, was not deterred
But instead encouraged
To let my fantasies penetrate our innocence and run wild through our minds
I asked for your body and you gave me your being
You loved with what you could love
You touched with what you could touch
You gave everything you could give
I loved only what you gave to touch
I touched only what you gave to love
And I gave only what I thought you were worthy of getting
Selfish is a foolishly mislead understatement
But how can someone who only loves self be expected to be anything but
By no means is this an excuse
Only another variable in the equation
The irony being there was never any equality in us
A sad but honest reality
And to no one’s avail
Temporal happiness is all we could ever have hoped for
At such a young age love is mythological: fairy tales and misconceptions
In a way what we experienced was a kind of love; though unhealthy and vague
At one point we shared a mutual friendship that I admittedly couldn't handle at the time
Then, still struggling to develop into my own person I couldn't simultaneously come to terms with who I wanted and needed me to be and who you wanted and needed me to be.
So with patience worn as a peasant’s sole
And guilt mounting as with a sinner in the house of god
I gave up
On you
And our friendship
Instead of conducting more lackluster symphonies and rearranging those illuminating words that obscured and protected my soul
I abandoned you
Shipwrecked with no life boat
I wrote this letter not because I regret my decision I made but how I made it.
This by no means is attempt at rekindling an already desolate, and even back then faint, flame
The reality is I've never been more at peace with myself and with who I am
I've grown into my own; piecing myself together daily
Becoming more and more of the person I am destined to be.
But as my vision clears there are still memories that cloud my mind.
You never deserved the heartache or the disappointment
You expected much more out of me as a companion and once lover
And Sadly I didn't honor that
Even though my ears had grown deaf to our once beloved symphonies and my tongue became tasteless; immune to the feverish sensation of conversing
You still deserved an explanation or at least a good bye
And in writing this letter this is my farewell
My apology for not honoring your arrangements as co-conductor
For wrongfully accusing your brilliant hues for poison
For allowing my arrogance to persuade my sentiment
For destroying our world
Though I did it with flawed execution believe me I did it with the best intentions.
Better off we were.
Better off without.
Sincerely, Sorry
P.S.
I neither expect a response nor do I expect forgiveness
Only Closure
Bron Dayvid, 12 october 2012
Beautiful Death
Beautiful Death
Thy name is autumn
Irrefutable Death
Reflect thy sovereign
Use hues to sooth those who mourn
Then ensue to be subdued to elude the storm
With death
Thou art soon reborn
Reformed
Adorned
But for now
Thou art worn
Angelic crystals cascade the skies
Covers thy blisters heals all eyes
Freezes the sadness
Lightens all sighs
A wintry madness
To which (f)all falls and dies
Bron Dayvid, 23 may 2012
A Cup of Optimism
In the morning we drink coffee
We drink coffee in the morning
Every morning
Routine
Every morning
Systematic
2 teaspoons of sugar to add a little zest
For a three hour drive to a job we detest
Is that it?
Every morning we drink coffee
We drink coffee every morning
Every morning
Fixed
Every morning
Engraved
Half a cup of cream to add a little color
2 cups at lunch and 2 more at supper
Enslaved
We drink coffee every morning
Every morning we drink coffee
Every morning
Every afternoon
Every night
We drink coffee
But we don't have to
We can change
Bron Dayvid, 22 may 2012
The Ride
Ride into The Night
Ride into The Plight
Stop for no victim
Stop for no light
Ride into The Pleasure
Ride into The Release
Rejoice in The Freedom
Until it’s revoked by the police
Ride until the sirens
Ride until the tyrants
Then Ride in cuffs
Head up
In silence
Ride into the station
Ride in amazement
For The Ride has just begun
The Ride to Salvation
Bron Dayvid, 10 may 2012
Chasing Clouds
The sky was clear blue
Save one angelic cloud
Danced as the wind blew
Amazed the snowy owl
A maze of beauty
So elaborate
White feathers shed
As the owl sped after it
Its black beak pierced the mist
The iced outer sphere
As complacency set in
It retreated out of fear
What if it rains
What if it storms
What if the cloud changes
Its beautiful form
What if these feathers are too thin
Too bright
And too long
Questioned the snowy owl
That watched that elegant cloud
Go til it was gone
Bron Dayvid, 10 may 2012
Euphoria
Chills
The hair stands straight on my arm
As if to salute you
My general
My maiden
Angst
To see you is to see medusa
Hard to look away
Even harder to gaze
For why
Do you keep me waitin
Fever
The passion burns deep in my soul
Deeper in my heart
But deepest in my mind
Sorrow
Few words spoken
To no hearts’ token
Opportunity lies open
For yet another time
Bron Dayvid, 29 april 2012
Laura
Her innocence was penetrated
With a false since of comfort
He made her smile
He made her laugh
Her beauty was naïve
Never before grazed
Until he passed
So vivid was her mind
So pure was her soul
But even a slight of love can blind
This her young heart did not know
And when he left her he left her open
For all evils to enter
She now disdained him
And his sinner
Her eyes were not the right shade
Her hair didn’t look the right way
He so arrogantly implied
And when he walked out of her life
Her innocence died
Bron Dayvid, 18 february 2012
Where is my Rose
Living is hard
But loving is harder
And though it hurts I
continue
Like a martyr
Its suicidal but
vital
For my existence
Its so persistent no
matter
How hard I resist it
Soon he’ll miss it
I’ll no longer be
around
Only in spirit
And memory
But I don’t ever want
to remember what he did to me
I died slowly that
night
Lonely that night
Only to be awaken by
my funeral
But where is my rose
In Memory of Rosemary
Christian
Bron Dayvid, 18 february 2012
Hard
Tell me you love me
Tell me you care
Tell me you’re happy
I'll meet you there
With White Lilies
Bron Dayvid, 18 february 2012
The Bird on the Telephone Pole
There's a bird on the telephone
pole
Through the window behind the
trees
It gazes into my soul
A finch I believe
The bird on the telephone pole
Must surely be cold
It is months before spring
Indicates the snow
The bird on the telephone pole
Has been there on that telephone
pole
For quite a while
The other birds flock
He waits before he prowls
Could be she
That is the bird on the telephone
pole
A diva much too tired to fly
Awaiting a mate of perfect grace
to take the sky
How could something so wonderful
seem so effortless
I envy that bird on the telephone
pole
The patient wind author
And not a second later it mocks
me with its elegant departure
O where O where
O where will u go
Mysterious bird from the
telephone pole
Bron Dayvid, 16 february 2012
You're Welcome
If
I don't practice what I preach
It’s because I preach what you should
practice
I
give direction so you can be an actress or an actor
A
factor in this world if and where I failed
Corrections of my imperfections I tell to you
I see you through
So
you can be saved
If I don't aspire it’s
because I'm busy trying to inspire
A sacrificial lamb I am 1 lost dream is a million found
A
few spoken words is a brilliant sound when
coming from a brilliant mind
With
a pure soul is far more precious than gold
Wisdom
of a man more than 3 times as old
And
I'm only here to tell what I was once told
and that is you are all beautiful you’re perfect you’re a prince a princess
King and queen
the world is yours
I found the key and open the doors but instead of closing it back
And
turning my back I pulled and pulled until the hinges Snapped
so that door that gateway of success
Will
forever remain open to whoever comes next
and you’re welcome but you can thank me less
Bron Dayvid, 16 february 2012
Red Skies
Red skies Red skies cover up black lies
Seeking the truth results only in his
demise
He sees Red skies
Red skies please close his eyes
For the truth he seeks is not honesty but
evil’s compromise
Red skies Red skies create black clouds that corrupt the
innocent air
What was once pure is no more than a toxic
deadly despair
As the black clouds get darker the soul
grows colder
And falls harder than hail further than
hell
And once the soul abandons the mind so too
will the spirit
The body is left susceptible to evil
blinded unable to clear it
No matter how hard he fights no matter how
hard he tries
He will never escape the sight of those Red skies Red skies
Bron Dayvid, 16 february 2012
Now O'clock
The clock ticks and ticks.
But what is time.
It matters not when.
Shame on those who dwindle on the past.
Whether life begins in order to end.
Shame on those who dare to even ask.
There is no future I risk foreseeing.
For we are happening now.
All living beings.
Bron Dayvid, 9 february 2012
Good Mourning
I had a dream
It felt so real
Everything was perfect
Things were just the way they
use to be before…
Well let's just celebrate what
is now and now I dream
A dream of old faces in new
times
A part of me knew it was a
dream but I didn't care
We were all together again
I tell you it just isn't fair
That it all had to end
But I knew that it would
Does that make me foolish
For what seemed like an
eternity we stood
Jubilant but clueless
That at some point we will have
to say good bye
But the dreamer in the dream
does not sigh
Until he is greeted with sunlight in his eye
Bron Dayvid, 8 february 2012
The Philosopher
A part of me wants to think.
Abandon society.
Its erroneous politics
erratic habits
violent passions.
So inexplicably enthralled in fashions.
I would move to Athens.
Live honestly
Socratically.
I imagine me.
Out of man’s harm
Into mother nature’s arms
Happily.
What else do I need to live.
Besides Life Soul and Thought.
Save your criticism. For I only hear the winds talk.
And they whisper with such a soft elegance.
Reminding me to look at the trees, who then remind me of the
birds
whose beautiful songs
in return wake the flowers
who still, after millenniums
, have yet to acknowledge their power.
How humble.
The descendants of The
Garden of Eden.
Tiny miracles.
Proves again and again that His craftsmanship is flawless.
But as lively as summer may be. Comes grim reaping August.
I cannot stop the seasons from changing.
I cannot stop us from tainting.
For that must require immense concentration.
Not that I am overly vain or lacking patience .
You see, most of me wants to think.
But it is the wisest who must drink.
Bron Dayvid, 28 january 2012
How a Poet Loves Part 3 (The Cheat)
The
Earth and the Sun have been through everything together
The
sun was there from day one nurturing and providing
Everything
the Earth every needed but
Temptation
is captivating and captures
The
souls of even the strongest beings
And
the Earth though deeply worshiping the sun
Caught
sight of a another
With a
fluorescent hypnotizing glow
Magnetizing…
attracting the Earth
Loyal
but weak willed the Earth gave in
To
this beautiful structure known as the Moon
And
soon… a secret affair surmised
So the
Earth fell asleep with the Moon
And
woke up with his lover the Sun
Guilty
but guilt free enough
To
never admit what he has done
As
time drifts by the Earth is greeted with pressure greater than gravity
Gravitates
into a state of mind that gradually worsens
Guaranteed
to be caught he ask himself was it even worth it
Because
the love he shared with the Sun was perfect…
Why
risk such a beautiful bliss
Finally I found love and then I do something
like this…
What
have I done…what have I done… to my beloved Sun
The
end has now begun…….To be Continued
Bron Dayvid, 28 january 2012
Waiting for the bus
I would have told her
I loved her but;
the bus came, and I
had but one ticket
Bron Dayvid, 28 january 2012
Solitaire
I
Me
Myself
Alone
Myself
Me
I
Am
I
Am
Myself
When
I’m Alone
Alone
Is
me
Myself
I
Am
Not
Amongst
Others
Who
Are
Not
me
So
For
I
To
be myself
I
must be
Alone
By
Myself
I
Am
Me
Bron Dayvid, 26 january 2012
Mirrors
I'm losing I’m trapped in an
illusion
the truth only adds to my confusion
So if I doubt the sincerity of the
words you speak
pardon my rudeness
But please don't judge my prudence
for I am only a boy
A mere child ripped from my mother’s
womb
Tossed into a world where they assume
My innocence will be my doom when in
fact it acts as a cocoon
Protecting me from what lies behind
seemingly welcoming eyes
But I see the disguise
a reflection of my conception of love
For which I have a bad first impression
of
I thought it came at first sight I should
have looked twice
disgusted with the fact that I almost trusted this once beloved
Mirror
but now I see clearer
Bron Dayvid, 20 january 2012
H.I.G.H. S.C.H.O.O.L.S.
Hypocrites
Interestingly
Going
Hoping
Something
Cool
Happens
Occasionally
Otherwise
Leaving
Soon
Bron Dayvid, 9 january 2012
Tick Tock
A
Generation Loss.
A Loss
Generation.
Miscommunication;
miss communication.
A
Generation Loss.
Whose Loss,
The
Generation?
No.
Creation.
A
Generation Loss.
A Loss in a
Generation.
An error in
translation;
which
translates to damnation,
for said
generation and generation to come.
The Loss:
Whose
Fault;
Who Fought?
All.
And none
but one.
Which is
why we loss, a generation.
A Generation
Loss.
A Loss Generation.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Millions;
Forsaken.
A
Generation Loss.
A Loss Generation.
When was
the loss?
Patience,
Patience, Patience.
Bron Dayvid, 9 january 2012
Pretty Lady Lullaby
Hush
pretty lady don't say a word
I know why you cry I know why it's hurts
In
time all the pain goes away
But if you don't accept it the pain will stay
Once
a pretty lady now a broken girl
Nowhere to be found lost in the world
Once
a pretty lady now a scared girl
Gave all her love away has not a care in the world
I
sing a lullaby to say goodbye to my pretty lady
With her pretty eyes and luscious skin
I
sing a lullaby to say goodbye to my pretty lady
in hope that I can b a friend
I
Hope that I can still save her
But I was her executioner
Turned
a lover into hater
And now I’m losing her
I
mean lost her
She now is a foster
Because
she was my baby
I let her go and I made her cry
My
pretty pretty lady
For you I sing this lullaby
Bron Dayvid, 9 january 2012
The Rapist
You kidnap my son and hold him for Ransom
Forcing him to speak an unknown tongue
If he had legs I am sure he would run
You molest my daughter and tell her lies like
You love her and how you knew her mother but she knows the truth
So her eyes you cover and her mouth you smother
I'm your father now, you say
Your real dad past away
You raped my wife in public sight for all to see
I sigh but don't cry for she still is in me
So is my daughter and so is my son
See what you thought you had plenty of turns out to be none
Your pathetic
I weep
It saddens me to see such a shameful act
But I also smile, how flattered I am to be your dad
Was it not I who gave you birth
Is it not I you see in your reflection
So as they cheer and as they praise know
It was I who impressed them
Bron Dayvid, 7 january 2012
Icy Isolation
The Artic Bear,
The lover of Tundra and frozen air,
Awaits a Sleepless Hibernation;
One that is done in Solitaire.
This Frigid Beast,
Conqueror of harmonious peace.
For none shall dare
Enter such wintery grief.
This Warm-blooded Soul,
Modestly plays the role;
For what some many fear
Is to lose control
Night comes, as well as winter
With no regard for one’s replies
The Artic Bear accepts and remembers
The Coldest nights and the darkest skies
Bron Dayvid, 2 january 2012
How a Poet Loves Part 1
You are a goddess
An angel that god has sent
I prayed for you like I’m protestant
I will forever protect you and cherish u
Keep your heart warm
and caress u
Keep your soul free… and your body is only for me
So let me grasp gently what others only get to see
You are a queen let me serve u
There’s a slot in my heart reserved for u
But I question myself do I deserve u?
Wait let me erase the question mark
I do deserve you! Exclamation mark
I can’t explain exactly why but with u and i
Let’s forget the Y
Cus our vows are much more important
I said I will forever love u
My conscience said I better love u
So no one else can better love u
Then I
Latest comments:
4 may 2024
Weronika
Boli bo rektoskop to nie gadżet analny, więc
4 may 2024
Jutro jest niewyrażalne i nie do odgadnięcia.
3 may 2024
violetta
Drzewka do jedzenia:)
1 may 2024
Tak;)
1 may 2024
kb
złotej*
1 may 2024
kontoler żłotej poświaty
1 may 2024
samo życie, każdy swoje brudy ma, lepsze czy
1 may 2024
romantyczny to romantyczny, prawdziwy taki
1 may 2024
ten ketchup to fakt, trzeba przypilnować przy
1 may 2024
interesujący przekaz, jak dla mnie o własnej
1 may 2024
ucieczka z przewidzianym powrotem to też stabilizacja...
29 april 2024
Nie jest niczym podyktowany:)
6 may 2024
Satish Verma
5 may 2024
absynt
5 may 2024
Satish Verma
4 may 2024
absynt
4 may 2024
kalik
4 may 2024
wiesiek
4 may 2024
Satish Verma
3 may 2024
absynt
3 may 2024
wiesiek
3 may 2024
Satish Verma