With the foresight of what was to take place,
he pulls her close,
begins a loving embrace.
Chin bound to her should her,
so tightly he holds her,
‘til he’s able to remove the fear and doubt from his face.
Every ounce of will gathered,
he starts to disengage.
There’s work to be done
if this girl is gonna be saved.
Blood pressure droppin:
there’s a gash in his leg,
but urgent the situation, no time for God’s grace.
he pulled the scrunchie from her hair,
stretched over his hand,
told her to run—and about noting give a damn.
Don’t cry weep, think, look back, or worry for me
‘cause he could never die at long as he owed her that scrunchie.
hinges explode:
the door crashes in on the foyer.
The hit-squad floods in
fills every corner
while up in the mezzanine, he’s checkin his magazines:
9 shots in one, and the other minus 3.
Locks, loads, and readies, he blazes the kerosene
knowing that downstairs there was more than 17.
Thinking make everyone of these count,
tellin her to stay down,
use the smoke, and slip out behind me
straps a knife to his sleeve, and On 3…
2…
Safties off,
he makes his debut yellin MOVE!
guns steady blazin in directions 2.
Ready to finish this little war,
he’s bringing the fucking noise,
pops 3 shots, drops 5 boys.
Space formerly void, is now consumed
bullets, and smoke fillin the room,
a tight grip is assumed—
on her lungs,
by the fumes
as she scrambles through the room,
vision tunneled on the exit,
just like he told her to.
Weapons empty, he pulls the knife:
ready to rest in this room.
His epitaph: a blade, and a hand-to-hand doom.
Blood in his vision,
he makes the next move,
outside she boo-hoos,
final violence ensues.
Smoke and screams of pain billow out of the room,
the situation culminates in a BOOM.
Blinded by her tears, she only screams WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!
question answered: he hobbles out of the plume.
The only thing on his mind, approaching his future bride,
removes the scrunchie from his wrist, pulls her hair back and ties it.
Whispers I Love You while fighting his eye lids,
hears it back as they embrace...
...a smile crosses his face...
and shortly after,
she collapses,
under his dead weight.
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
16 January 2010
It's Time
Memories...
like those—
are the ones I need to get over.
The flashes and glimpses of life together...
...everywhere we'd been, all we'd ever seen,
All the things we'd done, ALL the 'we' that's in between...
...the sum of all words spoken
and the feelings to which they lead...
...all this damn 'us'—
recollections of every scent,
every color, EVERY second spent,
so many shards of life w/ her in my mind—
Every time I close my eyes
the recall splashes vibrant
on the canvas of the back of my eyelids.
These emotions click and spark in the darkest recesses,
then the darkness recesses...
body jumps to life,
the energy refreshes states of enamor
that I can no longer handle—
soular wind vibe,
make the tension relax,
pulse reacts: heart murmurs double syllables
the beat: steady, then snaps—
Sympathetic nerves volley torrid synapses,
forcing these spasms, ready to fly out those memories—
trying to fly, fighting for flight,
calling, YEARNING for the sky,
wanting to fly,
dying to fly,
dying to fly,
ready to realize that sometimes its time...
©Brandon Baker, 2010
like those—
are the ones I need to get over.
The flashes and glimpses of life together...
...everywhere we'd been, all we'd ever seen,
All the things we'd done, ALL the 'we' that's in between...
...the sum of all words spoken
and the feelings to which they lead...
...all this damn 'us'—
recollections of every scent,
every color, EVERY second spent,
so many shards of life w/ her in my mind—
Every time I close my eyes
the recall splashes vibrant
on the canvas of the back of my eyelids.
These emotions click and spark in the darkest recesses,
then the darkness recesses...
body jumps to life,
the energy refreshes states of enamor
that I can no longer handle—
soular wind vibe,
make the tension relax,
pulse reacts: heart murmurs double syllables
the beat: steady, then snaps—
Sympathetic nerves volley torrid synapses,
forcing these spasms, ready to fly out those memories—
trying to fly, fighting for flight,
calling, YEARNING for the sky,
wanting to fly,
dying to fly,
dying to fly,
ready to realize that sometimes its time...
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Things Revolve Around Her
I saw that things revolved around her...
attention not exempt because she's always grabbin' it.
her voice was a natural attractive force:
that's to say she was spittin' gravity.
So it was no surprise to find that likely
her universe of affinity was ever-so expanding;
so damn demanding,
heliocentric works if on helios she's standing;
that is, if the sun she was manning.
But so far beyond the stars,
she had the other chicks in the galaxy maddening;
on that quantum shit, she was
stealing my physics and they simply wasn't having it.
Not that there was anything they could do about this black hole like gravity.
steady pulse like solar wind, push the haters off when they come snappin and shit.
absorbing me into herself,
she had a telescope through my mind while she was trappin it. . .
©Brandon Baker, 2010
attention not exempt because she's always grabbin' it.
her voice was a natural attractive force:
that's to say she was spittin' gravity.
So it was no surprise to find that likely
her universe of affinity was ever-so expanding;
so damn demanding,
heliocentric works if on helios she's standing;
that is, if the sun she was manning.
But so far beyond the stars,
she had the other chicks in the galaxy maddening;
on that quantum shit, she was
stealing my physics and they simply wasn't having it.
Not that there was anything they could do about this black hole like gravity.
steady pulse like solar wind, push the haters off when they come snappin and shit.
absorbing me into herself,
she had a telescope through my mind while she was trappin it. . .
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Literary Personality
If one could be read as one reads a book,
Then surely her person produces that like "War and Peace,"
And she is of the finest of literature.
You can't judge her cover for it varies,
It buries, concealing her inwards.
To turn her pages is to cycle through infinite paper;
This book as no endin';
There's no point spendin' eternity looking for it.
You can't summarize, paraphrase, or skim through this.
So I read end to no end;
Every page, passage, and complex sentence
so intricately written,
She has me; Nothing else matters, there's no intermission
'cause her plot is this pleasantly mysterious entity in several quiet forms.
Her dialogue foreshadows forthcoming events;
My chest warms, my interest reaches new lengths,
But for sure: I feel my heart melt from the sound of her dialect`
She spreads streams of consciousness to dreamy tributaries,
I'm seduced by her alliterative song she's got me something kinda high
Seein' purple, pink, and green canaries;
It's like taking a drug, except nothing's wrong; it's not against the law.
I don't even like to read,
But for her my eyes are bleedin',
watering, swelled with intrigue,
since her slant rhyme pays heed to no one's reason.
To edit her verse is the highest lyrical treason.
To change her vocab: a superb injustice.
The thesaurus is based on her ‘cause normal poets can't touch this…
Beauty of syntax;
language's grace;
a textual perfection;
the poet's birthplace.
Not deserving,
merely fortunate am I to look upon her face,
Not to impose,
but I beg the queen, spill ink upon the pauper's page.
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Then surely her person produces that like "War and Peace,"
And she is of the finest of literature.
You can't judge her cover for it varies,
It buries, concealing her inwards.
To turn her pages is to cycle through infinite paper;
This book as no endin';
There's no point spendin' eternity looking for it.
You can't summarize, paraphrase, or skim through this.
So I read end to no end;
Every page, passage, and complex sentence
so intricately written,
She has me; Nothing else matters, there's no intermission
'cause her plot is this pleasantly mysterious entity in several quiet forms.
Her dialogue foreshadows forthcoming events;
My chest warms, my interest reaches new lengths,
But for sure: I feel my heart melt from the sound of her dialect`
She spreads streams of consciousness to dreamy tributaries,
I'm seduced by her alliterative song she's got me something kinda high
Seein' purple, pink, and green canaries;
It's like taking a drug, except nothing's wrong; it's not against the law.
I don't even like to read,
But for her my eyes are bleedin',
watering, swelled with intrigue,
since her slant rhyme pays heed to no one's reason.
To edit her verse is the highest lyrical treason.
To change her vocab: a superb injustice.
The thesaurus is based on her ‘cause normal poets can't touch this…
Beauty of syntax;
language's grace;
a textual perfection;
the poet's birthplace.
Not deserving,
merely fortunate am I to look upon her face,
Not to impose,
but I beg the queen, spill ink upon the pauper's page.
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Still Waiting...
Instigated and perpetrated,
frustrated thoughts of a yearning sated...
only to be negated
by reality's hatred for the imagination;
yielding me to the revelation,
or rather reaffirmation of my
feelings slain.
My heartbeats belated on mention of her name...
©Brandon Baker, 2010
frustrated thoughts of a yearning sated...
only to be negated
by reality's hatred for the imagination;
yielding me to the revelation,
or rather reaffirmation of my
feelings slain.
My heartbeats belated on mention of her name...
©Brandon Baker, 2010
I Thought of You Today
The volume of the world muffled and colors became more vibrant.
Muscles non-compliant, I borrowed a listless gaze from the azzure sky.
People surrounded me on the street
screamin stuff about fatigue.
"I THINK HE'S DEhydraa-"
...that voice fades.
My mind careened into daydreams,
call me spirited away.
I was weary indeed: vexed,
I knew of bliss unseen,
and that knowledge made the coming experience deep.
In a profound state,
displaced from the body
I walked with the spirit,
I talked to the heart,
saw the flame in my soul
and rested upon its hearth.
I climbed the sairway to heaven
simply to fall again,
but not before I would query:
"Why fall in love, when we can stand?"
I ascended again, to the greatest altitude of my mind,
and there witnessed what would've drove any common fool blind.
I saw a sunrise on the horizon of my thoughts,
and I feasted on its rays
as a rainbow quenched my thirst with its iridescent haze.
Once sated I sat
catching every fast paced grain,
that tried to pass my face.
Nothing could pass this plane,
I had a firm grasp of time and space.
And with it I built a higher mountain
of the sands that time provided me;
the hopes, dreams, and plans born inside of me;
with all of the capability I didn't know applied to me,
and by the beat in my heart that had always been there to guide me.
It was mostly me, mastered.
It was captured shortly thereafter,
enraptured in a portrait the colors of the wind comprised.
To me, the heavens cried,
and to them I replied.
I courted divinity simply to find that a sobriquet;
a rose by another name.
When I kissed that rose, a stifling light hit the gloom on the grey.
I came back to consciousness, as she pulled her lips away,
and with those lips, predictably, she would say
"What happened? Are you feeling okay?"
To which I could only reply "Fine, I just...thought of you today."
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Muscles non-compliant, I borrowed a listless gaze from the azzure sky.
People surrounded me on the street
screamin stuff about fatigue.
"I THINK HE'S DEhydraa-"
...that voice fades.
My mind careened into daydreams,
call me spirited away.
I was weary indeed: vexed,
I knew of bliss unseen,
and that knowledge made the coming experience deep.
In a profound state,
displaced from the body
I walked with the spirit,
I talked to the heart,
saw the flame in my soul
and rested upon its hearth.
I climbed the sairway to heaven
simply to fall again,
but not before I would query:
"Why fall in love, when we can stand?"
I ascended again, to the greatest altitude of my mind,
and there witnessed what would've drove any common fool blind.
I saw a sunrise on the horizon of my thoughts,
and I feasted on its rays
as a rainbow quenched my thirst with its iridescent haze.
Once sated I sat
catching every fast paced grain,
that tried to pass my face.
Nothing could pass this plane,
I had a firm grasp of time and space.
And with it I built a higher mountain
of the sands that time provided me;
the hopes, dreams, and plans born inside of me;
with all of the capability I didn't know applied to me,
and by the beat in my heart that had always been there to guide me.
It was mostly me, mastered.
It was captured shortly thereafter,
enraptured in a portrait the colors of the wind comprised.
To me, the heavens cried,
and to them I replied.
I courted divinity simply to find that a sobriquet;
a rose by another name.
When I kissed that rose, a stifling light hit the gloom on the grey.
I came back to consciousness, as she pulled her lips away,
and with those lips, predictably, she would say
"What happened? Are you feeling okay?"
To which I could only reply "Fine, I just...thought of you today."
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Stand In It
Why "fall" in Love, when we can STAND in it?
Love is a DEEP, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person. Thus, if we "fall" in Love and stay there, as we often do, we drown in it.
It beomes fatal, and therefore contra-indicative to its purpose of improving the lives of those who experience it.
"Falling" in Love is the cause for the need to "rebound" or "revive" one's spirits when a relationship ends.
So why continue the destructive path?
Love is a DEEP feeling...one we can stand in.
So the next time you feel like you're "falling" in Love...stand up, and Love "should" follow your shoulders. If it remains with your ankles, move out of the shallow end of the pool.
©Brandon Baker, 2010
Love is a DEEP, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person. Thus, if we "fall" in Love and stay there, as we often do, we drown in it.
It beomes fatal, and therefore contra-indicative to its purpose of improving the lives of those who experience it.
"Falling" in Love is the cause for the need to "rebound" or "revive" one's spirits when a relationship ends.
So why continue the destructive path?
Love is a DEEP feeling...one we can stand in.
So the next time you feel like you're "falling" in Love...stand up, and Love "should" follow your shoulders. If it remains with your ankles, move out of the shallow end of the pool.
©Brandon Baker, 2010
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