Comments Posted By Barebriar
Displaying 1 To 16 Of 16 Comments
you have a responsibility;
the ice melts if you cry.
the candle dies if you melt.
the die rolls crooked if you respond.
our responsibility is what consumes us.
» Posted By Barebriar On 01.24.2013 @ 7:25 pm
properly applied, determination can be one’s road to success.
improperly applied, determination can crush one’s spirits in a single blow.
properly applied, mascara brings out the potency of a woman’s eye
improperly applied, mascara burns the retina and seeps into your brain when you cry.
» Posted By Barebriar On 01.20.2013 @ 5:28 pm
the sweep of wonder
across valleys rolling by the mortuary.
sweetness in the bloom,
and matrons on the wing.
sweeping up the kitchen floor
pretending all is well
in the air.
» Posted By Barebriar On 01.17.2013 @ 5:13 am
there is a child on a barrel in the street.
he sits, swinging his legs over the side,
looking round the corner to the
it is a cold day,
and no sun shines.
there is a child on a barrel in the street
he looks alright,
but he can’t feel a thing.
» Posted By Barebriar On 01.01.2013 @ 12:39 pm
i can find a way,
to be sure,
in any world but my own.
somehow, it seems impossible that you could be
you’ve destroyed me.
how can you be so sure?
must it possess you
to be anything but over?
age is deterministic.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.30.2012 @ 6:02 pm
she has a deftness about her
and it shows.
she may try to hide
what she does not wish to hear
but it shows.
and she knows
that the petals of a red rose
are strict in their finality.
the king is wrapped in tinfoil
and the queen is dressed to fail
the servants all are quivering
and it shows
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.27.2012 @ 7:41 pm
the day is today,
and the clock shall not wait any longer.
now is the time for action.
words have lost their voice.
this is our time.
we have grown strong once more.
from weakness we have risen,
like a phoenix from the ashes,
and it is time for us to take back what is ours.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.26.2012 @ 7:45 pm
a zephyr blew the game from
st. neots to the land of the roving ones.
there, they lived always in harmony,
the game keeping them in check.
back home in st. neots, rain pounded on the cobblestone.
there was nothing quite like an english winter.
rainy and drab.
just like the rest of the year.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.18.2012 @ 6:30 pm
there are five pillars in the calcium desert.
three stand before me now;
i can see the sun behind the first,
the moon behind the second,
and a brief flash of light behind the third
before i turn to fall between the lines of determination.
i can slip once and
without much hassle
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.17.2012 @ 3:22 pm
i heard the broadcast on a saturday.
the news of war
broadcast in blood.
i did not fall once.
i fell twice.
my second time corrupted me,
and brought my mother to her knee,
to ask the lord “i pray to thee:
please save my son, please let him be!”
you heard the broadcast on a sunday.
it was rainy and i was long gone.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.08.2012 @ 8:47 pm
on the roof there are the stars.
they must be there.
the roof is the edge of our universe.
the boundary of our hearth.
stars are painted there,
to shine upon us as we sleep.
on the roof there are the stars.
and they keep us company.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.06.2012 @ 7:41 pm
these words are the joints,
to be oiled and polished,
to be screwed and demolished.
these words are simple,
like hands on a clock
and grains of sand on
going to the fair
never looked so good.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.05.2012 @ 7:50 pm
both of us were strange.
we wept in the ditch,
no one would think to
cast us aside.
to do so would be
both of us
had our own
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.03.2012 @ 6:07 pm
the object behind the windowpane
you cannot see it,
and it cannot see you.
it does not see
it does not feel.
it puts pain before pleasure.
it kicks with its heel,
and falls on its toes.
i cannot imagine where i would be today
without you, though,
i feel just fine.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.02.2012 @ 6:31 pm
boiling upon the stove
the bubbles of another day gone by;
beside myself with rage,
must restrain myself.
the water boils over.
there you have it:
my fictitious calling —
overnight ramblings in may.
» Posted By Barebriar On 12.01.2012 @ 9:32 pm
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sitting beneath the waves
there is turmoil above.
he in his body,
the black sky,
the white light,
deft hands smoothing out
he can hear himself
and can feel himself
» Posted By Barebriar On 11.30.2012 @ 4:23 pm