Brother

The Poison In You

What if I wasn't like you?

And I was just me, and Myself was true?

 

And if you did bad would it mean I would too? 

Would it mean if I did it, I'm exactly like you?

 

Would I be subject to your evil?

Would I be subject to your internal upheaval?

 

What if I am good in spirit,

And you might just rather not hear it

 

And if I did bad, does it mean I'm just like you?

Looking for an excuse for the culprit that causes blue?

 

Decisions left to baseless comparison

Myself gone from me, and origin

She tells me so, I'm just like him and her

Do you see my other qualities as just a blur?

 

Bring my poison, she admits me to it

Determines me as someone else and then she sits

 

Then, who am I?

A continuation of your deranged views, someone elses cry?

My Brother's Pillow

 

MY BROTHER’S PILLOW

 

I don’t remember where it came from. I don’t remember when it appeared. Even though, I don’t remember my brother one single day without that pillow. He takes it everywhere. One could think that the favorite belonging of an almost twelve year-old kid would be a videogame console, a toy, a computer or his dog but not Alex. Alex’s most loved thing ever is his fluffy and soft pillow. This is not the kind of pillow you would rest your head on (Incredibly I don’t like how it feels when I rest my head there). It’s like those pillows you just hug when you are lying on your bed because it feels amazing. It is as soft as the softest cotton candy. Probably it is as soft as a cloud. A bunny would feel like a rock standing next to it. A lot of funny moments come to my mind when I think about my brother and his pillow. I’m pretty sure he’d rather being without me for a month than without that pillow for one week. I can’t judge him. We fight a lot. Nothing aggressive or violent, just those childish arguments brothers always have. So how could I be compared to the most comfortable pillow on the planet? Even I accept there’s no comparison between us. I myself have managed to steal Alex’s best-loved pillow when he’s asleep. The best way to make my brother mad, to really make him mad is to hide his pillow. You can trust me when I say that my brother prefers to sleep hugging that pillow instead of having one under his head. He’d sleep on the floor if he had to choose between sleeping on a comfortable bed with any amount of pillows but his favorite one or sleeping on the floor with it. Have you ever been asked this silly question “If you had to move to a lonely island and you could bring only one thing with you, what would it be?”  Well guess what my brother would say, yeah you are right He’d choose his pillow. His pillow for him is like a treasure chest for a captain, he appreciates it that way, like a treasure, and it’s priceless. I don’t think that my brother would never ever let it go or at least not for a long time, a really long time. And that’s it about my brother’s favorite thing on Earth.

 

 

 

 

 

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transpirit

 

 

..................

 

to you, my teacher, my healing spirit guide,

in my carreer, my sorrows, trials and tribulations,

transformed into joy and peace,

thank you for this morning,

thank you for the signs, 

and the light that shines ever so brightly

within me from your own journey,

this connection so overwhelmingly special,

you know me, and of my path,

 

and i know i'm doing it right now. 

 

greatest healer of all time,

thank you.

 

 

5:59 PM 7/12/2013 ©

 

...............................

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a poem to a friend.

the men i love

because he has a crooked tooth

because he is tall and built

because he's short and frumpy

because he's bald

because he's a great fiance

because he's understanding

because he's kind

because he laughs with me

because he cries with me

because he empties the trash for me

because he leaves his dirty dishes in the sink

because he's comfortable when he's with me

because he listens

because he is resilient

because he is cunning

because he is so ugly in the morning and

it makes me feel prettier, and he doesn't even 

care

 because he farts and blames it on me

because he bails me out when i'm down in the dumps

because he has a dimple on one cheek only

because he has nice cheeks***   ;-)

because he smells good

because he has body odor

because he's smart

because he failed the driver's test 4 times in a week

because he dropped out of highschool

because he kissed my forehead when i needed it kissed

because he kissed my ass when i was being a bitch

because he outsmarts people 

because he's a great fiance

because he's the best dad

because he's the best brother in the world

because he is the best friend i ever had

because he's obese

because he's not perfect

because he's perfectly himself

because he works hard

because he tries hard

because he never gives up 

because he loves my cooking

because his hands fit perfectly on my waist

because he eats like a pig

because he snores

because he leaves the toilet seat down

because he hurt my feelings

because he loves me

because i love loving him

because he is a man

 

 

 

3:05 AM 7/6/2013

 

©

 

............

Author's Notes/Comments: 

men are always writing women the most beautiful poems of love... just listing all the reasons men are lovable...good bad and in between!

Abandoned Child

Folder: 
Poetry

My brother died,

And in his place;

I was born;

But I was repelled.


 

My mother threw me from the table,

Abused me, both mind and body.

My father never present,

And if so, he ignored me.


They left each other fast,

'cause mother was a lesbian.

But my father needed a woman,

For his children and as a housewife.


 

The second was quite alright,

Even if she made me eat axis.

Only my sister I couldn't see,

That became off limits.


 

After years they had their divorce,

And then came the third, the most terrible.

My wicked stepmother,

The greatest dictator.


 

She tried to strangle my brother,

Then father did interfere.

She put me in the sanitarium,

With false motives, my fear.


 

Firstly in a crisis-centra,

'cause I run away from home.

Then in the sanitarium,

Where I for six months did roam.


 

In the sanitarium,

Provided with medication.

By which I lost my memory,

Crawling in the emptiness of chaos...

 

Regularly I suffered blackouts,

By which I saw nothing.

Not knowing what I did,

Much like sleep-walking;

And strange vistas occurred.


 

I wasn't suffering delirium,

Is what the doctors told.

So all this time,

I was in the asylum for no reason.


 

Then I had to go to boarding-school,

Where I developed something bad: anger.

I wanted to kill another, a female;

And Nyarlathotep, I am sorry;

Maybe I didn't wanted to commit this act,

But I had to from Satan...


 

What happened was unforeseen,

'cause my room was now aflame.

The building completely in axis,

The police came to arrest me.


 

A year and a half in prison,

Locked away in a cell, in Hell.

A year and a half terror,

The bondage of society.


 

When I got out, there was another project,

Named room-training.

I had to work in a factory,

But that didn't end well...


I started to mutilate myself,

Which I learned in the sanitarium.

They send me to the hospital,

To the psychiatric division.


Then again to the crisis-centra,

Which I didn't liked at all.

As if I had to start over,

This was too much overall...


 

Through the open door I escaped,

And from my last money;

I was buying a train-ticket,

Which brought me to Ramses.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is my autobiography.

The Jesus Poem

Folder: 
Nature / Folder 1

From the stardust twinkling brightly in the finest of our hours,
So it will be too, when we leave our earthly shells behind,
Retreating back into the the universe from where we came,
They say that long ago we even chose our earthly names,
This life mapped out for us, but it's destiny unclaimed,
Choices that we make will carve our each and every day,
And once upon a world ago, he also came to earth this way, 
He walked his destiny the same as many others, too,
And within the past 10,000 years his finest hour drew,
I think he lived a special life,
But the same as many others,
Just a man who longed to teach
What it means to be a 'brother'.
They say he said so many things and yet, it's hard to tell.
Sometimes I think it was his choice alone to live his personal hell,
A chance to change the world and make a way to speak your mind,
The price he paid was common for the rebels of his time,
And he often spoke about his father hovering above us,
I now think that his 'father' was the star that told of his birth,
Today he lives among the heavens way up in the sky,
Or bouncing between each other heart to heart and eye to eye,
I think he lived a special life,
But the same as many others,
Just a man who longed to teach
What it means to be a 'brother'.
Words can be so misconstrued, when egos take the stand,
It happened in his day and still goes on in every land,
I do not feel he ever dreamed of 'church' in the same way,
We've twisted it to make it into what it is today.
Manipulation games and condemnation in his name,
Did love of money buy us rights to crown him 'King Of Shame'?
I think he lived a special life,
But the same as many others,
Just a man who longed to teach
What it means to be a 'brother'.

 

 

 

8:51 AM 4/19/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Christianity, politics, people, the universe, life and love, It doesn't have to be complicated. It's really all the same thing.

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The Phone Call That Killed My Brother

Right before his car crashed in to the old oak tree,

 

 

I saw him scream, I saw him cry, I saw him turn inside out.

 

 

I know my twin brother better than the girls he tricks to his treats,

 

 

Girls that leave him with scratch marks on his back like a cat to post.

 

 

He was there when I was born, I was there when he learned to kiss,

 

 

He was there when I played my first recital, I was there at his death.

 

 

I'm always with him, I don't have to know where he is, or even see him.

 

 

Look through a forest and you know the birds are singing, but not seen.

 

 

So as I stared at him through the eye piece of shared DNA prior death,

 

 

He answered a call from our mother with troubling news about me.

 

 

His twin brother, myself, had just come out of the closet, and it was all

 

 

His fault, the fighting, the name calling, the harassing, the banter;

 

 

At least that is what was going through his mind. I wouldn't know.

 

 

I only felt his pain through the love of two brothers, two, but one.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

let me know what you think.

Written almost a year after I looked into your eyes for the first time

I don't remember what I saw

I don't remember the first time we spoke

Most would say that the moment a foundation is set

(because you only meet a person for the first time once)

you're supposed to remember

 

But I'm going to take a turn for opposites and choose tails instead of heads.

 

The little things matter.

 

Here's what I do remember:

 

The first time I confessed to you 

something about me because you had just done the same.

201 closing shift, I think it may have rained.

 

The first time you told me you didn't succumb to networking norms because it has no purpose.

Disappointment, yes.

Reminder of what friendships used to be before requests, much more yes.

 

Our lingering moments in the shelves,

digressions of the nonsensical shards of pain life had rained on us.

 

Notice how it always seems to rain.

That's how we'll know we're okay.

Our beings survive every time.

 

The first time we talked about going in

Man. Women.

Not a moment too soon, no hesitation.

We knew.

 

Every time I made you laugh,

the first time I snorted,

the way Big Brother must have seen us in the shelves

and thought our brains were distorted.

 

Little do they know...

 

But we're more sane than any living part of nature

Our senses are accute

Our eyes on radar

Our hearts, deeply wounded

Covered in patches that need occasional changing

Because people like us see the world for what it really is

 

A mission.

 

Gather your followers.

Get rid of the strays.

Keep the few and live.

Live.

Breathe.

You're still here.

Grounded.

 

The first time we told our stories.

The way you listened and I knew you knew because even when I didn't know you, I knew you, but now not yet then.

 

Talk.

 

We rediscovered the beauty of speech.

I say I admire because in my mind you conspire with my emotions.

The voice of honesty.

The voice of reason.

Daily prescriptions.

Personal stash of self-help books

free of charge.

 

A bond is what is sent to you when you've overcome your battles

But the battle never ends because you live it in your head

So, before we know what's happening,

before we can understand,

we're assigned to each other

Glued, unremovable, roots to a tree

Before you can even stop and question

You have yourself another chance

 

But if I'm being honest,

I didn't see then what I see today.

A year ago I didn't know what I was trying to get to

A year ago I didn't realize how much more healing my deeply burdened soul needed

A year ago I was questioning every possibility

from here to world's end

 

I admire because you're unreachable to many,

but you let me grab on.

 

A year ago you let me stay

And I've never felt more okay.

 

 

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my brother

Folder: 
After Death

the first day of snow always means i miss you.

sometimes it feels like my heart controls the weather.

the ground looks like clouds.  does heaven look like winter?

maybe one day i'll find out when we can be together.  

for now i'll make snow angels and one can look like you.

and you can make cloud people and one can be your sister.

and if, at times, i feel your eyes look down upon me, brother, 

i promise i will strain my ears just in case you whisper.  

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