Dawn

In the calm, dark stillness of the morning is where I do my best thinking,

Only rivaled by the calm, dark stillness of the night.

The evening is reflective of a long day of occurrence,

But the morning — the morning heralds new light,

New life, new eyes, new heights.

It’s synthesized the old ways with the new rites,

Rejuvenated notions after a full night’s respite,

Any desperate cleaves or claims to reality cleansed by REM.

I can, breathe again in the early morning.

Feel again in the early morning,

The things I need to feel to get an early going,

Early showing signals of success,

Portends I can pretend are Zen,

I am free again.

Every morning.

Of My Blood

For those I truly love,
I give and receive all things freely.
For the peace we share between the
Confines of our bond turn my weaknesses to great-strengths;

My shortcomings to great-lengths;
Time spent with a tribe that uplifts
Transforms great rifts into lush valleys.
Ameliorated earth once scorched

Now teems with Life. Living thoughts,
Living feelings, living breath.
Giving soul, giving purpose, giving health —-
I honor those I truly love.

Limits/The Summer Flower

Fantasies have always come natural to me.
Flights of visions, anticipations of new seasons,
New reasons to enjoy terra firma; they’ve long been companions –
Yet, lately… lately my previous expansions have been absent,

Replaced by deeper realizations,
Concrete observations of status, experiences of the here and now —
Bounded by physics and psyche and society and existence.
Lately, I’ve been feeling my limits.

In need of expanse, I wandered to a nearby field,
Not uncommon for me, although it’d been years,
And chanced across an especially beautiful flower,
I’d seen it before, in this very same field during a previous reverie;

I stopped to examine closer.
Exquisite lines, brilliant in color, I mustered a tired smile,
For while a younger me might rush to pluck its delicate roots
And covet its lustrous petals, I was pleased to enjoy such beauty.

The Suitor

These are bad for me, I know, but you’ve got me up yet another night.
Thinking, dreaming,creating a world
Where rather than a cigarette to my lips,
Its your hips in my grips and your tips reaching —

Tips seeking, contact like those first moments we first started Speaking,
Young cats call it Talking, but I’ll call it Locking,
Pieces falling into place like some type divine caulking,
Shit, sweet dreams are made of this…

I used to feel intoxicated by love, I’d endeavor to be enamored,
Clamor with no standards, but right now, its just you and me;
A moment I’d chosen as a younger man with hunger pains,
Now satiated with little to gain, I pull heavy smoke while you tug on heartstrings…

Beautiful Thing, you indeed are by far a source for a sore soul…
Wellspring of inspiration, admiration, celestial celebration serenading
An eager ear with sweet, sylphic susserations
Each syllable kneading, pleading me to come nearer.

I certainly see clearer in the dimmed moonlight
Hazy with thick clouds, I ask the Moon, I
Think I might love her like possesed with a rune’s Might,
Is it love, is it love, is it lovethat I’m feeling?

This healing, oh this reeling, peeling back a calloused heart
Revealing a double portion of passion, a hidden chamber fastened
To a lass’s deep mind, I release a deep sigh,
Not of exhaustion, but of elation — patience pays off, my truest Revelation.

I’ve been reveling lately, leveling with Fate see,
I hated the youth heart, but now I appreciate it greatly,
May the Greats see, may the Ancestors smile down upon me,
For finally, I can be a Lover I’ve always intended to be.

untitled 2/4/2020

To observe, not absorb —
Follow, but not engage;
These are the actions of those Who
Wish to know.

Understanding. A fantastical word.
Spotlighting they that wish to grow
And sow seeds of good fortune
Like tantras of good portend

A walk with Objectivity obeys neutrality.
O, what a reality the principalities
Of my mind’s domains, remains of broken promises,
Hurts, memories, lessons, pressings

They press me to express these truths
In presence of Other subjectivities.
How do I withhold, when Fate favors the bold,
Or the passions of my highest heart burst forth?

Observe, not absorb. Follow, but do not engage.
For even the mind is a vessel.
Filled with rare treasures and measures
Of blessings with dressings even it cannot fathom.

But it is a structure, a form of forms.
Know thyself — the separation of norms.

The Twins

How curious these two;
Similar in so many ways,
Yet different as nights are from days.
But they were bonded.

Sister and brother; fraternal by all means —
Four years separated them, but the twinship lived on.
The kindship lived on,
The friendship lived on

Openness, trust, transparency, and loyalty.
Ride or die shit a blood pact like two convicts,
Trapped in a box but trusted to survive,
The love of the other kept the other so alive.

When he met success he promised she would thrive
Even if he had to sacrifice a chapter of his life
That is promise that he carried deep inside
And knew the type of power he could tap just through this pride.

Connected, through blood and air
They recognized each other.
Needs and wants etched as clearly as digital fonts
They protected one another.

Fantasy

You are someone’s fantasy.
With closed eyes, it is you they see
Earnestly, they implore the Stars to bring you to the
Precipice of their heart strings and perform your magnum

Opus, I open my mind’s aperature to focus
On a visage so pure, your image so sure
Impressed upon mental retinae there is surely no cure
For seeing you in my fantasy.

Someone sees you for who you are.
Better yet, they see you for how you were formed;
Forged on a mighty hearth — With all the gems from the mighty earth
Worthless in your presence.

I am breathless in your presence.
I am speechless to your essence.
Convalescent, paralyzed in your Heaven sense,
Heaven sent, my godsend

May god send A love to fulfill your fantasy.

Friend

You taught me love.
Not in the ways I imagined as a young man,
Gazing longfully into your eyes,
But actual love.

You tempered me because I loved you.
I needed to impress you,
Impress upon you the merits of my character,
But you resisted me.

Not just physically, but emotionally,
You sanctioned me to languish and anguish
As to why I didn’t stack up
These feelings wrapped up

And twisted inside my ego’s pride.
I thought I loved you so intensely I wouldn’t hide;
This white hot passion, but
You taught me how to love.

I cannot love anyone else because I’m in love with me.
The still voice inside me told me you could always see.
You taught me ego, pride, and humility.
I love you my friend, for you are the piece of me.

Truth

The best Way to get to the Truth
Is indirectly;
Because in the light of Day,
All men stand to earn a reward.

Changes

I’ve been writing a shit ton of shit poetry recently because I’ve been too fried to write anything longer of substance, but I wanted to talk a crack at sharing some thoughts.

I started this blog in spring 2012 right after my umpteenth breakup with a woman I knew I’d never speak to again. It was an evolution from a prior blog FreshKidJiveRight I started during my senior year of undergraduate. Late adolescence and early adulthood were primarily marked by two integrated characteristics: anima possession and professional escapism and both blogs are pretty interesting records of that mentality.

This blog has seen me go from confused Quixote to husband and dad. It has also seen me go from delusional “consultant” to professional manager to (hopefully) finance professional in the coming weeks.

It does indeed live up to its name. My mind is nothing short of a labyrinth.

I’ve studied myself more intensely than I’ve studied any other subject. It’s given me great control over my responses and reactions and provided insight into the nature of humans themselves.

What has struck me as most peculiar, however, is how vehement one can be in one moment only to be plainly embarrassed by that position subsequently. The transience of meaning — the vapidity of human certainty is a driving force of this blog and the primary fuel of my personal quest for understanding.

Why do we do what we do? Why do we need meanings for things? As a former Christian turned atheist, what does The conversion of a theological firebrand mean in the grander scheme of things?

Life is a trip. In ignorance, meaning is bountiful and profound; it envelops you and assures your direction. However, with greater and greater understanding comes increased uncertainty — increased timidity as you see err in almost every conviction. Again, what used to be a point of vehemence eventually dissipates, replaces by a calm ambivalence.

Both FreshKid and BL have been about my battle against ignorance, a recording of my quest for personal intelligence. While I’m still learning everyday, I do know my ruthless indifference has been due to my insistence on truth (why I like making many of my thoughts public). Truth is the ficklest of courtiers evading all direct approach. Truth does not respond to vehemence or even insistence; rather it yields only to the still.

In stillness I found my wife. In stillness I walked away from my career in mental health. In stillness I confronted my shadow. In stillness I shed my younger selves.

Truth embraces the still because when one is silent and aware change is welcomed or at least unimpeded.

Idk. It’s late and I’m rambling. I hope to write freely like this more often.

Happy contemplating,

Bryce.