Words themselves are always valid, it is in the context where the fun begins.

My gang sign is a love sign!

Thursday, May 16, 2013



Absolute forbearance is a perpetual heartbreak living in bardo
There’s no access in spaces between chambers for common folk
Some have been induced with sickness long before the symptoms arise
Stones aimed at pools of empty souls compromise a fluid ascension
No ripples are proof of a skipping faith

Emotional diffractions are dependent on glitches in DNA
The center begins as an animation of broken promises
Offering reincarnation as a consolation
An eternity void of human contact causes a boundless ferality
The epithet of ferocity is futile when the mandala has lost its heat

Insults disguised as compliments are beatings disguised as laying hands  
Damp cloths given by an incubus are useless for tears mixed with oil
Omniscience is a debilitation wearing vestments of low self-esteem
Making a point hangs off a cliff of implausibility and vagary
Deformation takes residence with love in the land of perdition

Neither edified nor complete
A caveat to perpetual deaths

Melissa Harris
gcb poetry 

Friday, April 13, 2012

Rant List (Sorta)

In No Particular Order and Inconclusive

Being blindsided by what caused
me to open up makes
me prefer a closed fist 
than a bitch slap.

With the judgment of a Christian and 
a razor sharp tongue, 
I am complimented then dismissed.

PTSD is the continual gift 
of a tepid spirit.

He told me to look at 
the positive side of things, I 
thought I was becoming a better liar.

My first experience with poetry is 
when I figured out my sibling disguised 
her hatred for me in 
her I love you(s).

Death is the closest yet still 
not an acceptable form of 

I’m failing 
at ignoring being ignored, 
I leave too much evidence.

The inner conflict of guilt and 
the truth riddle me 
like a trigger-happy cop 
who loves his bastard nigrah grandchild.

My home is filled with 
the color beige.  It is 
the closest thing to commitment 
I can stomach.

I would rather refuse the 
pill of elucidation than be 
left with nothing to write about.

gcb poetry

Saturday, April 7, 2012

The Wood Table

The Wood Table
Against the grain
Emotions are acknowledged

Words are born
Reborn to take their place
Against the grain

Relationships are necessary
Against the grain

gcb poetry

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Kip Brooks

Such a slippery slope roller coaster ride of emotion this job of being a daddy. It's awesome because your kids believe you can do anything. It's heartbreaking because your kids believed you could do anything.
                                                -Kip Brooks

Monday, March 19, 2012