In the Name Of

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In the Name Of

This day happened
To be or not to be
Abra-Cadabra
A maiden, made in honor
with no “adjective-ever-after”
at the wave of some magic wand

I see the light, the truth, the way
The sky’s reflection kissed the pond
The lake the sea the rivers too
The ocean’s heavy mystic view

And all this life could have to offer
Turns the furnace off and on
and off, and on,
But what has got her?
Cat and mouse, who gets the tongue?
Winner lose or loser won?
Sometimes sometwo something one.

Seasons changed. (You having fun?)
Acquiescence: season’s seamstress

So it seems
She’s knack-ful
when it comes to these
same once-again-
please-tuck-me-in-
and-tell-me-what-comes-next-type things

She sews with surgeon hands, the autumn’s rainbows to their grave
A charcoal slate array of shades
with every depth of gray’s dismay

And every up-sent thing comes down
It does and will, eventually
To those, of course, who’d never see
a single thing

Complacency

A reverent captivity
of world-bound laws like gravity
(We hang our heads to pray and cry
those tears of joy beseeched by lies)
Lower falls then, everything
Than hoped for from the start

Karma, physics. Science, art.
The wheels on the bus go round and round

The head will never know the heart

Time keeps marching
and distincting
lifetimes of forgotten dreams
The frays
unravel at the seems
(A task she never asked for)

Blankets cannot warm the things
they only aim to
smother
me
(I’m older but I’m bolder and I fancy the affection)
Please

So this, “A Tribute To Our Winter.”
Pierce, pull through
We pierce, pull through
The girl, she whispers
Ooooo, yes ooooo

It really makes me wonder

Speak now nothing
of November
Should no heart
then be dismembered
Try again
I try again
but somehow won’t return to Sender
Post and Master
— who this be —
has seemed no bearing over me
and where my feet might take me

Land.

We bend the knees to learn to stand

Dive and sky both open wider
Than the cat had warned me
Higher
Than the lowered flag half-mast
Can cast away the grief beside her

For pomp, of course, and circumstance
The widowed bell no longer tolls

Unspeakable humility
Has suddened its arrival: Sold.
A Purposeful Revival
Of an inner kind of strength;
stretched across the lonesome length
of hands that never once were held
But staked.

A claim;
A frozen sacrifice
to cover all our sins in faith
Announcing “It is finished”
So at last it could begin

(press play)

And all the while the seamstress smiles for what her hands have power to do
Threading thoughts in rhythm — out — and yet they’re never threaded through
I’ve sown the seeds of pure surrender, stitching seams (with “humble” rendered)
Sunsets weep? I tuck-fold-stitch. The air feels ouch? I duck-roll-ditch.

Stop and drop it
Stop and drop it
Journeys of one single step
Begin one thousand miles, child

What is righteous? What is this?
What is forward? Silence: bliss.

Clowns are frowning
“Smile, Miss.”
Placing bets (a galliant gander)
Frogs and wide-eyed girls might kiss
Sights and sun shall both soon set
And just how dark can darkness get?

“But all you’ve ever done is run. You’ve spent your whole life running.”

Mama heard a Beatles song
Of happiness and other lies
I’ll run, alright. Goodbye, Surprise.

Run until the wheels fall off; at last quit spinning in the sky
These time perceptions, mighty sons
Will never ask me where or why
And in my adding one to One
I equaled how it feels to won

My prerogative
and my plight
But yes, of course
That blazing sun
Still shines upon this broken earth
…Oh thine can only wander

(The boots were made for walking
One fine day that’s what they’ll do)
Going farther
Reaching higher
Learning things they never knew

(What are little girls made of?)
Balls of steel; these words are true

What a lonely point of view
The old heart blinded; black and blue
And seeing nothing of the trees,
enchanted forest on its knees
And last limb
too soon sadly falls
Yet Wisdom brings
— yes Wisdom calls —
Us children, all
of majesty
Clandestined, to our destiny

We echo back
Then forth — a clue —
(and back and forth)
From under you

Love is tired of its chores
Umbilical umbrella chord.

It’s whispered wind from ancient dreams
And dancing joy into the trees

His sword that slices is the Truth
His thirst is quenching; He will do
To satisfy this sense of pride;
In Him alone I shall abide
I lay me down
I fall asleep
…arrival, peace and

Harmony

The night that swallowed yesterday had threatened my demising
And horizons went on strike
Before the dawn resisted rising

In revolt against surrender

Body Mind
And Soul — a blender–
Leave no room
To think it over
When the thinking
is as thinking does
Permission won’t be tender

Never gentle, never was
That spaceship’s blast
A full contender;
Take-off takes no circumstance
To lift the view from off the ground
The barriers
The hollow sound
The mirror weeps with laughter now

So here we are
— no place at all —
Just room for stretching
Growing tall
And I will spend all morning
Watching how the
Babies
God once gave me
Wrestle, think, and laugh, and talk
We go for walks, we go for walks.

They speak unspoken wisdoms
With these the simple syllogisms
Hypotheticals unreasoned
By that which the world deduced

Love is breathing, it is true
And sometimes ‘breathe’ is all we do

Breathing keeps the body’s life
But air, the soul, will satisfy

And this is life,
I can’t deny
But there’s a light within;

It’s mine

We measure grace
We measure time
But infinite can feel sublime

As for today:
The Son will shine

And teach our spirits
— Thee and thine —
A sing-now, holy hymn again
This pure vibration rushing in
with huge momentum
Now divined
The angels have been satisfied

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About Brandy Desiree

"Call on me, and I will show you great and unsearchable things you do not know." --Jeremiah 33:3 I am a seeker. A lover. A doer. A thinker. I make music, I dance often, and I laugh. It's all hilarious, really. Everything. Look around you. My children teach me a lot about life. I have five boys, and yes I'm out of my mind. It works for me though; I think this world could honestly use just a little more crazy. A lot of humanity's problems could be solved by everybody taking themselves a little less seriously. I'm grateful and alive; a constantly evolving creature, thankful for the sunshine and just as thankful for the rain... Visit my corner of the universe and share yourself! My heart could implode with welcome for you.

22 responses »

  1. Holy God, Man oh man. I saved this to my favorite websites ever. This seriously blew my mind time and again, it was intense. You are such an amazing poet, a master of the rhythm and the meanings of those words. Wow.

    I know you must not have that much time, but do you submit your poems for publication ever?
    I’ve been using Duotrope and I can’t remember if I specifically told you about it or not, but I am making an effort to use it more frequently to find places to submit things.

    If you ever want me to email you if I find journals or online places that may want to publish your poems for payments or just exposure, do let me know, because I happily will.

    I generally adore what you write and this one just blew my mind and expectations out of the water at so many times with a few sharp phrases that just pierced me, they were so freaking lovely. Wow, girl. Wow.

    • Over 24 hours after receiving your response, I am no less speechless than I was at the start. There simply are no words to wrap around my feelings. Nothing comes close to saying what your comment means to me.

      The ginormosity (new word, dig it?) 😉 of your compliment knocked my socks off… SO TOTALLY NOT EXPECTED.

      Honestly, I’ve never shared much of my poetry before. I’ll do open mics on rare occasion, but that’s usually more for the random cosmic conversations than it is performance of my creative writing.

      I’ve written well over five full books-worth of poetry alone. Iambic pentameter is my favorite; but when I created this blog, poems were the last thing in the universe I thought anyone had interest in. Honestly. And if I’m not having a particularly passionate moment about any specific thing, I come off as a poser writing about it.

      I have no talent. My talent is my curse. The curse of too much emotion. And thanks to this type of razor-sharp precision of feedback and encouragement, I’m learning one of the most important lessons of any writer’s life: be true to you, the rest will follow.

      I can’t thank you enough.

      Regarding the emails for writing opportunities?

      I will pee my pants, I promise, if you’d ever be so kind. Really. And I’ll learn to like it. Sitting in my pissed pants. You know.

      Honestly though, I can’t pay you to do so but I would! Maybe we can make a trade? I’d be happy to send you some recipes of mine in return…

      Love-like-WOW-to-love-and-know-you.

      B.

    • Yes! Although there is no demon, only a juxtapositioned essence of being; the dichotomy of a heart that feels too much, too much; a mind that thinks too nonstop on-top and always without ending; and a spirit that cannot for the mere life of me settle down. I was born quickly flying, down a wild stretch of highway in the middle of the night. In a Volkswagen bus. There were thirty of us. Hallucinogenic birth into a bleeding bellied love vibe. The love goes on and on and on and oh, the mind keeps asking why.

      This is what I think of you. Yellow unexpected high five slapped across my face as if to threaten permanent hilarity in brevity she sips a never lonely lonesome cup and drinks the world around within her. In the first of her heart’s chambers take a left and have a seat. Take a picture or your own swooned heart might miss a needed beat and you will them be left to wonder. Was I dreaming? Was and what where when how why the hurried wonders fill her sky and helpless, us, to love her.

      • Sometimes, I mean almost all the time when I read you, I lose my mind. Body takes over, breath breath, like I’m the one writing, but it’s writing me. You write me to amaze me of you and of me.
        Who the hell are you? It’s a wonderment popping into your words sucked off the page by my eyes, possessed like they come with their own instructions. Hey that’s not what we usually do with words around here….Your words have a mind of their own and do what they want with me. mind-drugging adventure-like your birth. : ) I surrender. Do what your naked words want with me.
        In divine play like looking in the mirror.
        I terrify too. Or the other thing that you said. Little in between.
        A place to me myself and matched. Glorious!
        Words scuttling free into what they choose to see.
        the world is big enough now-and bigger.
        Mermaid, out of the bathtub into the sea.

        • Who this princess speak of, me? Sheer impossibility. We once spent years then writing time like poem, open open and how mad my heart goes with it. Get it get it. It’s with her, you see. BAM-ing instant mindful schism, undressed our thoughts supposed to be.
          Suppose to me a lucky streak. (Fortune feeling so inclined) to stone us both to death with such a force of love and YES we spend forever on forever now a state of being fully wrecked. So sublime. So sublime. Words intending themselves forward with no mind, and never manners. Peaches come to die in mass, conveyer belted murder and those lifeless all day canners never thinking of the cost. Contest. Still, whatever might be done with words has always found me lost. You too? I like horizon view when this one takes me higher blue skies stretch themselves to fit her loveliness to deep insider, I’m a typical outside type eye of apples, but the peach is nice. I take a bite, we’re all demised and that’s ok, it gets me high undressing ocean deepest nighttime longings and the best of
          magic moments in the morning, this will come. This too will come.

          • Something happened WonderDesiree!
            My chest couldn’t hold the wonder of it!
            Words wouldn’t come
            To big for my finger
            Bigger than my chest
            Unconscionable
            Not rest but to fathom or digest
            The unimaginable life
            Your music sings
            When I can’t yet dance
            My body learned celestial steps in my dreams
            To waltz with the gods and with you
            This one was lost
            Till now with found words
            Not shrunk
            Chest wide open spaces
            You are not folded up and fit
            Now I’ll find the post that took my breath first
            I’ve learned to breath
            Fire

      • You see?
        Desiree
        How can words answer this?
        This is why
        Left speechless
        Wordless and high

        It’s a pierce
        For a jewel
        I’ve never worn
        Or even imagined
        Holding priceless and rare
        Fainting- a drop of blood
        Sharp prophesy
        You strip me
        To redress
        Yellow?
        How do you know?
        How can I think
        My mind is blown

        Much less write
        Or respond!
        Lest you die
        Look not
        At the face of Goddess
        Her glory takes your breath away
        Some never get it back
        And die to her
        I prefer the fire
        So I turned away my face
        Now
        Show me your eyes
        I will not die

        • Comatosing, the coma comes on us: abide. Swim against-with the tide… whatever type fancy upon you may strike. Words and their weight; by them we shall hang, ourselves: these perpetual moths to the flame. Back and forth sway, eclipse and refrain, or random come here reunite and then stay. Extensively brain, she brings heady her game, and gambles her fortune upon me. No way.

          Stay out of the cold keep the lovely unfolded and anytime — ANY — again put it on me. Promises, loving, with no expectation. Blissful, the mist of our meantimes contain.

          My, how this lady she does it. And well. Rocks and then rolls in the absence of time.

          The pleasure of course is most certainly mine.

          • My Mermaid

            Until you
            A captain
            I knew the sea

            Sailing slick beneath
            The waves
            First time
            At sea
            For me

            Danger mask and tank
            Terror up for air
            Decompress
            Till Giles appear
            Deep sea is mine
            You to thank

            • Isn’t it ironic, and yeah I really do think…

              She takes me down, we have a drink, and speak without words on a buzz that can’t be killed. The vibe is so light that it heaviest fills my love to the bone and my soul beckons, Woah, can this dream be a waking life happening thing?

              But it is and it squares itself down on my heart. Right from the start deep in lovelust we fell, rabbit hole her and me head and feet over our heads we came into it tumbling fast, a toppling mass of catastrophes laugh. Ter. Her. Whatever it is that she’s got, I must have. Not taken for keeps but acknowledged, just that. Everything. Everything. Knowing and such. Revealing no musts, releasing these fates. That rabbit will never be anything else. He is late he is late, a very important date. We laugh and we sip on the magic juice still, imagine how heavenly here it may feel.

              Imagine and wait. I do and I will. She married my soul fifteen lifetimes ago.

              Here we have (having gills) Great Ferris Wheel — a Happiness (Still) …and some Nash, if you will.

              and I sing, “Susie Q” yes I sing “I love you” and I sing to my sweet Susie (soothes me yes) Q.

    • Being well, my dearest dear. I hope the same becomes of you. Tons and tons of wellness. 🙂

      I’ve been so hit & miss with my blog lately that I feel it’s almost an insult to post anything; I have no consistency when it comes to my responding. And I cherish (SO DEEPLY CHERISH) even the slightest of response from each of you. As for this dearly much beloved, Alarna: I am gracious for you reading my words, let alone acknowledging them. Truly, you mean much to me. Thankful-most of gratitudes.

  2. Oh, the music, the music, the music in this one. You must be a masteress of spoken word. There are more stellar phrases than I can count here, but my fave might be –
    “Us children, all
    of majesty
    Clandestined, to our destiny”

    You, my dear, have your fingers draped across the Milky Way.

    • Well, in that case: how much unlikely is the view when merely words come over you, and in my deepest longings of the permanence of night that lonely space — for us — provides, I still can’t seem to close my eyes and sights! Mine have set on gratitude when likened souls come into view. How lovely here, discover you I do and feel such wonder. 😉

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