SideQuests on Kindle

A poety book I wrote a few years ago is now available on Kindle for a measly 2.99. Not that you should buy it or anything(unless unchecked narcissism and megalomania are major turn-ons for you.)

You can buy it here:


Looking Beyond Redemption

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

The Boy and the Painting of a Treehouse

The Boy and the Painting of a Treehouse by Brandon Adamson

This is the true story of a boy
that dreamed up a boy(his imaginary self)
who often stared at
the painting of a treehouse,
a painting of a treehouse, that if only he could have(the treehouse),
he would never come out.
And all of the people would shout
“Wherever you are,
come out! come out!”
There’s nothing out there, he thought.
He would rather stay in and dream of the boy
(his imaginary self) who often stared
at the painting of a treehouse.
All of his friends and family thought
it was bizarre and antisocial behavior. They would
have preferred he moved on to more practical pursuits.
Suffice to say they didn’t approve
of the boy’s dream of the boy(his imaginary self)
who often stared at the painting of a treehouse,
though it’s harmless enough, they thought.
Probably just a phase.
But still it continues on to this day.
At a certain point in the dream,
one day the boy mysteriously disappears,
and no one seems to know where he is.
Assuming he’s somewhere hiding out,
his friends and loved ones begin to shout,
“Wherever you are,
come out! come out!”
They scour the world, unable to find him,
Largely though, no one would notice.
Until finally a young girl looked up and discovered for herself
a painting of a girl dreaming of a girl(her imaginary self)
who often stared at a painting of the
boy in a treehouse.

from my 2008 book, SideQuests

Amidst a Misogynist

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,
underlies this,
the misogynist amidst,
reluctant to relinquish the quest for the kiss
with the potential to vanquish the anguish
so prevalent
amidst the misogynist.

Acceptance is the Cure

Acceptance is the Cure

I just want someone to accept me
for who I am-
“But you don’t even accept yourself for who you are!”
I accept myself for being someone
who can’t accept who they are.
So I guess I’m looking for an exception,
someone who accepts me for being someone who
accepts themselves for being someone
who can’t accept who they are.

from my book SideQuests