The Beginning of the End of All That is Good
By Brandon Adamson
When I was a child,
things in life would be good for a long while,
and then it would end(my goodness!)
As a young teenager,
things would end just as they were getting good,
or so my feeble mind wagered at the time.
In my young adulthood,
things tended to end as I thought
they were about to begin to get good.
Amidst the present tensions,
good things seem to end even before they begin
leaving little time to wonder
what might have been.
In the future then,
all things will begin to end.
Posts Tagged ‘poem’
The Beginning of the End of All That is Good
Workout Plan By Brandon Adamson (circa 2004)
Some girls are all about
wishing things would’ve worked out
or wondering why
things didn’t work out
don’t work out
won’t work out
or if only this
then things could’ve worked out.
It’s as if instead of working things out
and things working out
all they really wanted was a good workout
I guess just let them
work themselves out
cause I just want things to work out
if that’s cool
I’ll take mine plain-
you’re eating it plain?
how I love…
the great plains
turn my heart into a flood plain
the plain…the plain!
from my 2008 book SideQuests
Beyond Redemption by Brandon Adamson
“The Longest Road is the Road to Redemption”, read the
caption of a car advertisement that caught my eye
as I was flipping through the pages of an airline magazine
while flying high at one of the low points in my life.
It really runs true.
Often times the road to redemption, with time and experience,
gets longer, lonelier, and more difficult to navigate
than it ever was in the beginning.
Like the cell of a little white lie that divides and multiplies,
the path back off the beaten,
leads to ever more and more complicated math.
While in the process of attempting to redeem yourself, you end up
creating seemingly even more reasons to redeem, as you make the next
mistakes in trying to redeem yourself for past mistakes, and must then
redeem yourself for failure to redeem yourself for failing to redeem
for trying and failing miserably in the first place!
Make no mistake, it’s
like a mechanic who breaks something while trying to fix
something that he broke while trying to fix something
and so on, the road goes on and on,
until it’s just a bridge too far and you feel like giving up
enough to make you dizzy, enough to make a man off and jump.
When you’re beyond redemption,
it seems the only redemption is beyond.
From a first kiss to a lost cause,
you find yourself trapped,
caught in your own private episode of the twilight zone.
The story of redemption is the story that always works,
but hardly ever does.
The road to my own redemption
for failures and past mistakes
is indeed a long one, so wish for me safety in this unpleasant journey.
The veracity of a tenacity,
an ability to stubbornly persist and foolishly proceed
in the face of futility, but really,
absolving myself of all the guilt of the self absorbing,
amidst the broken bits of machinery
behold, an eye still gleaming,
perhaps the only redeeming quality(if any).
From my 2008 Book, SideQuests
Amidst a Misogynist Brandon Adamson
In the thick of the mix
of the blitz of awe and beauty of beauties,
we have it would seem
a misogynist amidst.
Every red blooded man has one,
somewhere, perhaps within reason
and his ability to do so…
a sense of hopelessness
tendency toward bitterness
over the missed and the communications landing amiss,
something arising from the self conscious disdain of the self controlled
for those of the emotions uncontrolled,
the battle of the poised versus the noise for the sake of,
locked in a semi-permanent struggle with one another
are the mild temperament and the child temper.
Out on the town,
in the thick of the mix,
the misogynist amidst,
reluctant to relinquish the quest for the kiss
with the potential to vanquish the anguish
amidst the misogynist.
All I can say is that if this were “The Good Son” I’d be Elijah Wood, and you’d be Macaulay Culkin.
The Creeps By Brandon Adamson
Quite often times
people who say you’re really creepy
come to find themselves
cavorting with the real creeps.
from my book SideQuests
Flight From The Senses by Brandon Adamson
Putting on the invisible disguise
in an effort to evade untimely demise
it’s off to navigate the maze of the skies
without a wingman, minus a stewardess,
and the crash lessons of the last
as the only guide,
such is the flight experience on the airline of the times.
turbulence from the moment you lift off the ground
from the up up uppity ups to the dipstick dippity downs-
could someone please turn this plane around?
and head back toward those now distant,
but you fear that they no longer exist.
Consulting once again the trusty oracle,
peering into your past, going back even one minute!
always reveals an inexperienced pilot..
talking to yourself on the captain’s radio
from the cockpit of despair “away we go!”
with the empty air of being alone,
the fare you pay to fly on your own.
From the immaculate innocence granted every single infant
to the energentic empty promise of the prepubescent,
gearing toward the angst ridden adolescent
with his curious penchant
for all things perverted,
marathon running through the whirlwind that is
the grueling world the adult lives
chasing dreamlike images that lie almost always just off in the distance,
facing up to the beginning moments of middle age with at best
hopefully some crowning achievement
or less a brief minute of redempt
before fading into the flickering finality beneath the fluorescent.
Out of Me
oh, what will it takes
not to make the leap
from patience to a patient.
when one can’t catch a break
can’t buy a bucket,
my luck at the slots of
a lot in life
is worse than the licentious howlers
that suck it
From my book,
Carefully Chosen Words
about your feelings
to ramble to your heart’s content
if it is even possible
or even seems a cause worthy
who knows if that vessel is still sea worthy
to reach such a destination.
(I should hope not!)
but for me
when it comes to you
It’s one I have already reached.
though I may seem unresponsive
and may not do so
or with what you perceive
an equal sense of urgency,
I’m still listening.
In some ways we’re all just too different
an abstraction, a distraction that’s merely
a refracted fraction of my romantic interest,
for purely as romantics
we’re clearly equivalent.
whereas you’re feeling everything
and thinking, thinking,
just substitute foolish daydreaming
and inductive reasoning
again and again
there you have me,
a lifetime member,
of the remembering
if you will,
You’re just being,
a human being,
and I can be cold and calculating
like a machine,
sometimes I wonder if I even need oxygen to breathe.
the familiarity of unreliability
is all too familiar for me.
If there’s a moment of silence
an indication of your identity
as someone who’s worth
waiting for those
carefully chosen words
the ones I save for
the carelessly woven verse
meant for those who make me think first.
After all this I’m often wrong
though my golden arrow aimed
heart and vision same
when I don’t see you
I just miss.
So we’ll see.