Alex Brawn Windrealm, 7 kwietnia 2012
'Why am I so sad? '
Those words are subtly said.
They leave my lungs in their breath,
Crying while they carry themselves
Through darkness—a desert defining
Hopelessness. Alone now, not a legend.
No husbands for them,
They drown in the ocean
Of loud waters and quiet deaths,
Their condition reflects my life.
I refract this such damaging truth.
For shame, they die in vain. Sad I remain.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 6 stycznia 2012
I'm not their demon
Creeping in their home-
Creeping through the things they've grown.
I've deceived 'nother,
Only to become undone-
Only with a loaded gun.
Their cursed lips have spit
And split my ears' itch
With a spiteful burning fire.
The same they mislead
Their neighbor with. Laboring,
Spreading Down a spiraled spire.
Despite I kiss their lips
Softly, with solace,
Knowing my appearance sly.
And so laced my space,
They sluggards, stealing from my
folded hands to rest, my rod-
My mind-which slumbered,
Baiting senselessness
Atop the vineyard's stone wall.
Thorns and weeds taught me
Through my willing, applied heart:
'Thieves will steal to scarcity.'
So I pray to One,
Him Above my stance,
Unfold my hands. Guard, bait me.
Build my rare household;
Fill its rooms beautifully.
Establish Your true wisdom.
I'm not their demon
Daring their dwelling.
They damn, dwindle and destruct.
Their flame will be snuffed;
Future hope won't be 'nough.
They - guilty; I - richly blessed.
I wise, have power.
I will taste honey;
I write an honest answer.
(Proverbs 24 [NIV] interpretation)
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 1 stycznia 2012
My window blinds are just that.
They, bruised by the fire that
I hate—But depend on presently.
It checks on me regularly,
But smothers me in my shelter—
Seeping through those horizons.
And my window cracks are cluttered with light;
My room is illuminated like a canvas.
I wake to and from it every morning.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 27 grudnia 2011
We are complex, but like notes harmonize —
To life’s rhythm kept by hearts’ beating strings.
Bones jointing together. They are our keys,
And their frame sealed by soft skin soothes my eyes.
Smooth skin, stroked, made still by mine—It, streaming
With our bodies, shapes for each other light,
Soft kisses for your slight detail and sight.
Our life—Envisioned through your clear-cleaved lens.
Nothing needs make fear, for we are in love
And are made perfect through experience.
A flash of light floods, along with fragrance,
Our blooming romance, black ceiling above.
It brings me to life like light symphonies
Bring inspiration to flash-flooded scenes.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 27 grudnia 2011
Dances for me, lightly
Does the rain's bright lightning
With gracefully-laid steps,
And hammered deep, bass frets.
Raindrops wake me — they need me,
Nestled in a sharp, brown field
On dusty earth — my best
Cause and cure of friction.
The rain listens, and when I have
No one to impound upon, saves
Me, fills my life with irony,
And simply, pounds brick burgundy,
It is falling as a current, and
My gutters are the throat it courses.
It forces its voice, a cough at first,
Then showers a harmonized chorus.
The rain. 'Tis most like your tears — It occurs
Along cries, long laughter, lettered pressure,
Lone pain, and lost, alien memory.
So it pours, straying ever-readily.
Most of all, the hard-pouring rain imposes
Onto me the kind, soft, and precise feeling
That is lingering — that mostly, gratefully,
To you do I tightly, and lovingly cling.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 24 grudnia 2011
I wish I could ‘xplain to you the lesson to me you’ve taught;
I wish I could have learned this truth by taking in your words.
Yet I was selfish and demanded joy by stealing yours.
I’m sorry to have done this. Patience — part of me you’ve wrought.
Perhaps I’ve given it to you through the way that we’ve fought.
Yet, I am thankful that everything turned up without cold
Feelings — ‘cept cold fingers feeling — at least, I hope. You’ve sold
Yourself with condition. It was mentioned in the contract,
But I never listened, just signed. Your body was my pen.
It does not matter now, because I am not backing out. Your misperceived concept then
Is understood completely by me now. Still, I wish I had grasped it with my mind firsthand.
Instead, I did so first with hand. However, I know the best act fo‘ur future is in store.
For the first time since I’ve known your face, I mean to tell you, “I can fully wait for that more.”
All the same, I won’t take this act lightly. I understand
‘Twas hard for you, ‘ven more than I, and such is hard to say.
Yet, in honor and hope, I beg you as my fiancée,
Or at least, without a ring, I ask you to marry me,
Off of the record and sincerely unofficially.
Don’t misunderstand my meaning; I’m just making a stand
For what’s already been planned. By our verbally-made band,
I’ve sworn to honor to be yours forever. To expand,
Just sign your name and strengthen our strand by taking my hand.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 23 grudnia 2011
My throat and my joy and my lungs,
Make a laugh at what once then was
So harsh at the time: I, confined,
My legs strangled by the vines.
It seems fear fades along life's groan,
For we fear worse when left alone
The unknown things. Yet, When we grow,
So do scarred memories below.
Our frames: walk, bond, and haunt do they,
As dim-lit cobblestone streets lay
On the opposite side of day.
I'm 'fraid of what against I pray.
But why, why does the darkness bring
to me fear that in my ears rings,
Rounding my head, haloed feelings
Of dread—visioned, mislead beings
Who are unseen to searching eyes,
But listed to pounce once my cries
have died from the numbing inside,
Which lingers like a child's white lies?
Answered clearly — when we are young
And everything is left undone,
Lights assigned by stars, not the sun,
Give, by darkness, nowhere to run.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 23 grudnia 2011
Your eyes—how they glide
And guide my glued gaze,
Every time they graze.
Feeding by your face,
But hiding by the
Clouds of your brown hair.
Which creep by. And they
Feel my enticed eyes
Crash against their hold,
Like a hurricane—
Our gaze, intertwined,
Like the firm palm trees
That twist in the rain.
And palms of our hands
That posses no pain.
Our gaze, sensual,
It is the psalms from
Solomon's soft songs,
And is no longer
Calm, like the land's sands.
Alas, still, we are
Now a seat apart.
All of this time has
Been wasted by my
Blind imaginings.
The sounds around me
Reappear slowly.
And I am back in
A crazy café
Sipping my coffee.
Back—facing the world,
Eyes—fallen on yours.
Alex Brawn Windrealm, 23 grudnia 2011
How should I still separate
What needs to be said right now
And what desires to be heard?
Like the emotions of love,
Their expressions confuse me,
But their insides digest healthily.
Yet that night I know you well,
I kissed you again between—
Between the bars of permission.
Holding you by the lamppost,
Why couldn't the moon be filled?
Then again, emptiness should be our only worry.
I felt that fabric 'tween us.
I wanted another soft—
A natural soft, softer than the sidewalk we sprawled.
That machine tore us apart.
Our insides lacked emotion—
Our hearts spilled blood from excitement.
I had made mistakes that day.
Mistakes, the hardest teachers.
They make me fail, until I prove that I am worth it.
Although, more importantly,
You will always be worth it.
You are my greatest mistake.
The only one that I will never regret.
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