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Cherish You [Mar. 23rd, 2015|04:54 am]
And sometimes the inspiration comes from old lines in the written poems of my heart..

“Cherish You”

I lay here wanting
Puzzling about inside my head
How it is I managed you
Outfought the damaged you
And somehow found the
So very close to marriage you
Laying here next to me
Inside the battlefield of love
That is our bed
I sigh happily and so deeply
Drawing in a soulful breath
As I curl your sheet-less leg
About my very own
How is it I managed you
And have kept you from
Your greatest doubter –
The embarrassed you
Your mind an unstable ladder
Thoughts so frantic, so flurried
A doorway to disaster
That would – once opened
Only seek to vanish you
And set free the fury of
The embattled you
Wanting to perish you
And that’s precisely when I
Place my hand in your own
Press my lips to you in a sweet kiss
And we share the soulful air
Consume the fears
Breathing softly away
All the worries and doubt
That do not cherish you
That do not bandage you
I will not abandon you!
Not ever! Not Now!
I will not walk away from you
Should you falter
Should you Fall
I shall reach down
I shall carry you
Until the doorway you see
Is the one that leads
Away from doubt and to me
I will carry you
I will bandage you
I will cherish you
And then marry you
In the magic moment of
Our own storybook ending
A fairy tale wedding
In the wisps of the Willows
In our garden of Fall

© Brian Milici
March 23, 2015

Feedback adored.

May you always find your smile.
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On Angel's Wings [Mar. 21st, 2015|05:23 am]
There is magic within your slender fingers. The tips reach out so slowly, almost holy, and I start to shiver. What exists within me that could lure you from your lair? Would it be my tender, willing heart? Perhaps my anger turned white-hot boiling rage at the way he left you marked? Would it be that your fingers are more than just an avenue to play with the buttons of my shirt? The buttons of my heart? Is it that you wonder where my do-not-cross line begins and where it ends and where we truly start?
I would stand here naked, in the stifling heat of this cursed Summer without water if it kept you from him. Kept you from harm. It is the electricity that exists between your cursive grin, the innocence of you and his sin, and how I long to caress the wounds, tend to the scars. The ones hidden beneath your chest, your left breast. Straight, clean through to your tattered and weary heart.

Oh, there is magic still within your tips, and within your eyes there remains a faint glimmer and a soft glow. An ember still smoldering. Begging in hushed tones for a fiery inferno in which to be cleansed. Be clean again. Free of the mark. Rise up on angel’s wings singed just to the brink of death only to be stoked and stolen back across the line of gone. Across the sky and across every ocean. Beyond every star ever set to chart. Made over, growing older, until finally a pillar of fire meets you and the Earth. A true rebirth rising from the ashes of magic and of damage. A beautiful creature. A seraph of purity. Of pure beauty.

The one I will and have always loved.

Always fought for.

As always we are two worn, scarred hearts.

Beating so strong.

So very strong.. as one.

Brian Milici
March 21, 2015

May you always find your smile.
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Paintbrush (To The Chest) [Mar. 18th, 2015|05:22 am]
And sometimes the painting writes itself while the story, well, it is plush and powerful, but the colors lack the subtle stroke of a skilled painter, as they swash on heavy and so clumsy, ah, so it ends.. so it begins..

“Paintbrush (To The Chest)”

Take a paintbrush to my chest
Swirl on those colors that speak
That say the words you know me
You know me
Scream out loud that you
You know me best!

I am a butterfly
And just sometimes
While I am flying by
Oh, sometimes I’m worth it
But most times?
I am far, far less
There are moments where
The colors you would paint me
You would shade me
Are vibrant and sultry
Even a bit country
But they are worthy
Something I have not heard from you
In so long that I lost track

And I’m obnoxious in all the ways
That that’s something
Oh, that is a particular something
I would not stop a count
So that said it all to me
Says it all so painfully
So succinctly that
When the time spanned beyond
My pointed memory
Of the meaningful days
Well, I knew then
I knew then this was not built
It was not meant
We would not last

Not everything is for always
Not every day is for painting
And not every girl is a damsel
Worth all that she ought distress

Not everything is for always
Not every day is for engraving
And not every girl is the storybook
Just an inevitable The End-ing
Where she – she is the monster
Disguised as a princess

And monsters posing
As a princess
So love a wayward butterfly
Even if it’s only occasional
And it is lost — ah, in actuality
Well, they like them lost just fine
Oh, yes, they like those best

© Brian Milici
March 18, 2015

May you always find your smile.
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An Excerpt of Who I Am [Mar. 17th, 2015|05:22 am]
So she asked me almost immediately when she found out that I was a writer. I don’t know if she was trying to hide her enthusiasm or not. Either way she did a terrible job. She asked me, “What is the difference, then? What is the difference between a poem and a book?”

I paused.

For far longer than both I had intended to and far longer than I gave it any such thought. The answer I knew immediately. I have always known.
The answer tumbled forth as if I were a politician reciting a well-practiced address. Perhaps I am. Perhaps that is what it was. In any event, the answer was as simple as I am dull.

“The difference between writing a novel and writing a poem is the difference of the matter of the heart. It simply is, there is no choosing. There is no motive. There is no other. Nothing else exists. Just my heart, my thoughts, and the love that tumbles forth. I write that way. This is all just an extension you see. An extension of what your puzzled look asks? Well, an extension of me, of course. An extension of us – when us is whatever occupies the slivers of my thoughts as pen meets paper or fingers press keys. There is nothing. There is everything.

I guess for me the difference between a poem and a book is that I can love the book again. Not the poem. No, that’s a stain. A scar. An indelible moment. Given away. Sometimes stolen. Either way it is never mine. The book, well, it’s too many moments. Those I can keep. Those are for me. The poetry, well, it’s so quick. It’s gone as soon as it is here. It’s never mine.

You’re smiling.

Right now. For me. You’re smiling. That’s beauty.

I’ll keep that.

exhales and stands up

Well, it’s time I write.”
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My Hope In A Hand Grenade [Mar. 4th, 2015|05:21 am]
And sometimes the inspiration comes from a jumbled mess of what is and what is not the truth in the middle..

“My Hope In A Hand Grenade”

The curtain falls
Revealing weathered glass
Littered with streaks of hope
And cracks mounting
Living inside this painted glass
Of sacred times long since passed
The old panes barely hanging
As if they somehow know
The mountain I’ve been carrying

Tell me, Sky, as I see you now
Which way next shall the wind blow?
I’ll follow her faithfully
Bathing in her vortex; shouting
Of life and of love
Until she falls apart
Or shall that be me?
Ah, fuck it, who’s really counting?

Just take me away from here
Into the bluest sky or
Into the dark of theater
Anywhere, darling
Except the black heart hole
That is my now
That is my here
Just point me, darling, and I’ll run
I will follow the wind
As she rolls along
Admiring her wayward charm
Without pattern
Without fear
My hope in a hand grenade
Liquid courage enough
To pretend to heal
Yet not near enough
To want to deal

My course is set
On the shoulders of wind
Between a gust and a mist
You can almost reach out and touch
The stars in the night
You feel everything
Impossible to resist
You eye a whole new world
Never seen so well
And never felt so small
She’s soft in her breathing
She is so beautiful

There’s warm waters in the Gulf
A birthplace to fear
That Category Five and I
Hopeless am I
I can see her from the Square
She will be my final cut
My darling grim reaper
On this fated collision
Target locked, no escape
From her bands of attrition
I left my heart in New Orleans
Left my soul in the Cathedral
All that remains
Is a cheap, green bottle
And a brown bag of shame
Things have never been quite so

Honestly, though, I really don’t mind
I accept my The Ending
As it draws ever nearer
Because I can’t stand to make
Even just one more truly important
Fucking bad decision

You will be my last
Heartbreaking mistake
I promise you that
For Forever
For Always
I promise you
I promise you
I promised you forever!
And all I got was a lot
Of broken promises
And stolen good years..

© Brian Milici
March 4, 2015

May you always find your smile.
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The One Betrayed [Mar. 1st, 2015|05:20 am]
And sometimes the inspiration comes from the world I left, and the world I sometimes relive…

“The One Betrayed”

Speak softly, sweetheart
Whisper in my hooded ear
Tell me all those wistful lies
You crafted so carefully
With such treachery
Covered in honey
As if somehow believing
In each one
Would make you less disgusting
Than what the truth would reveal

Oh, the mind
So oft a beautiful thing
Even it struggled
Felt uncomfortable
Could barely conceal
Skipped over the why’s
Embraced a web of
Cold, wicked lies
Spun in silk and in sin
And done so..
So very willingly

Performer; you
Fool; me

So, tonight
Do you still justify
Inside your head
That I was the fault
The fissure; the failed artist of heart
The mistake – fully responsible
For this chasm
For this fall
For your misery?

Tonight, oh
And every other
Godforsaken night
Do you still play
The one love lost
Paying a terrible, unfair cost?

Do you still play
The one betrayed?

© Brian Milici
March 1, 2015

May you always find your smile.
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The ClockTower [Jan. 12th, 2015|03:47 pm]
"The ClockTower"

It's that same familiar moment
Awake embracing the ache
Where I stare at the ClockTower
In the midst of Summer
Through my open window
The warmth of the linens
Almost soaked through
Entangling my body
Just as you would me
My heart is a hammer
I can feel it heavy
Too heavy for you
And just out of my reach

This is how I spend my nights
The time is simply Darkness
Too hard for my eyes to be precise
It's somewhere between midnight
And who the hell cares?
The soft strum of its chords
Faintly audible gears
Would surely lull most asleep
Yet among the many
Is never me

So as sleep still eludes
And I am once again struggling
With how this chasm can exist
I feel like I'm chasing smoke
Once again, furiously grasping
But smoke is always wisping
And such beauty as the wisp
Stokes the little hope I have
That I can someday be that --
The Wisp -- and be chased
Because someday I long
To be so beautiful
As beautiful as I once found you
And finally free

It is sometime between midnight
And does it really, truly matter?
My dearest ClockTower
All I know to be real
Still, here I lay awake
With you on my mind,
And in my thoughts
It's beyond heart-wrenching
Knowing you aren't suffering
The same as I have
And still am

© Brian Milici
January 12, 2015
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The Rearview [Dec. 13th, 2014|10:33 am]
[Current Location |Amidst the falling stars]
[mood |accomplishedaccomplished]
[music |"Shadow of the Day" by Linkin Park]

And sometimes the inspiration comes from sweat-soaked sheets from night terrors of a future sans you, when all you really need is the truth...

"The Rearview"

Finally figured out today
A tricky little secret
The kind tucked away
Under layers and layers
Of my own inner demons

Insecurities and change
Don't handle them so easy
But I really gotta say
I'm tired of being
The rock
The safe place
Where you always turn to
For validation and love
I am no longer your completion
I don't need you
I don't need you
I don't need you

I'm still fighting through each day
Cause yesterday was just make believe
Where one lie ends
And another you create
I could not tell you the difference
See, I was heartbroken
Too weak to see the real you
Or the blessing that you gave
Cause never again
Never again
No, never again
Will I believe in you

My trust and My faith
You held a hammer and a stake
Yet still I believed in you
No matter how many swings
No matter how many flings
Pierced me clean through
I covered for you then
And to this very day
I don't know why
But I fucking still do

Breathe, easy, always
Cause that's not the way
This story will continue
No longer will I proceed
Putting you before me
As tomorrow looks
Far more promising
The less of you I believe in
Cause darling I don't break
I will piece me back to completion
Your true nature revealed
Has finally set me free
I just had to see through
See the real you
And in a whisper
I'm a ghost
I'm your past
In your rearview

I find my smile these days
Amidst thoughts of my freedom
Always & Forever
I will never stop
I will never surrender
I will always love
I will always give
I still believe
I still believe
I will always believe in you!
I say to my own reflection
Smiling back at me
In the magic of the mirror

© Brian Milici
December 13, 2014

May you always find your smile.
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At Our Feet [Mar. 21st, 2014|04:40 am]
She smells of vanilla scented oils. Her golden locks of hair blowing gently in the much needed breeze. And she makes me think of lilacs. Lilacs in the summertime. Oh, and she makes me wonder.

She makes me tremble.

Paralyzed at my knees.

Her eyes are soft blue pearls that sparkle well beyond the starlight, while I the simple and restless ocean churn in captivity beneath her slender feet.

She makes me a desperate lover.

She makes me hardened and undiscovered.

Spellbound by her decadence, her sensual presence, and the ancient magic of her sorcery.

There is no method to the motive that has carried me here from the heart of New Orleans.

There exists not words that can be penned upon parchment that aptly describe the passion for which I feel.

You are far more than can possibly be imagined, a beauty well past paint brushes and still photography.

Oh, and how you know me.

You know every part of me.

So woefully incomplete.

See, I once fancied myself an artist.

A trickster of many pretty words spun quite effortlessly.

Until I met you, and I understood I was no artist at all. I was just a charlatan -- a fallen angel -- and you were the seraph sent to change my life from partial and broken to polished and complete.

I never knew of heaven until I found myself in your arms, such a comfort, such a wonder, a splendor I had never believed.

Then I fell once more.

Only now I rise to stand beside you.

You, the platinum beauty, truly a treasure unlike any this world has ever seen.

And I your greatest reclamation -- always there should need arise.

The world at our feet.

© Brian Milici
March 21, 2014

May you always find your smile.
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(no subject) [Aug. 16th, 2013|03:12 pm]
[Current Location |Amidst the fading starlight]
[music |"Yellow Paper" by Royal Teeth]

And sometimes the inspiration comes from the moments you hold and the ones you never make..


It's a rumbling night kind of sky
The temperature dips ever so slightly
And my eyes - they fall
They fall so very far
Just as my heart did
When I first saw you
Your magical smile
Those crimson lips
I shall never forget

See, you are the hardest part of sleep
At least you are for me
It is not a fear of dreams, no
Because in those I hold you
I feel you
I am finally with you
No, it's the falling
That's the part that keeps me up
Awake and away
From meeting you
In my wistful dreams

The clock tips forward
As my thoughts dip lower
Into where you might be
Which bed
With which man
That I was never meant to be
Tell me that I am not lost
That only you lay naked
Tangled as much in innocence
As your satin sheets
Tell me that another night stolen
Was worth every moment
That I was on your mind
Cause you are with mine
Racing toward the same point
A line to cross without a finish
That's you for me

Silent in the night
I thoughtfully grieve
Until a crack of thunder
Pierces my life
Louder than my voice can ever be
Still, I bellow to you that I am lost!
Without focus
My feet may as well be frozen
I am so hopeless
You always seem so close
Yet just out of reach

So lie to me, darling
Fix this broken clock
Inside my heart
Patch the leaking sink
That ruins me from beneath
Sooth me with your pretty words
Some thoughtful and romantic verse
And I will listen
I will listen
You see even in deceit
I'll always believe

© Brian Milici
August 16, 2013

If you enjoy new music made by young artists who are also awesome people then go buy Royal Teeth's new CD Glow.. The songs are almost all amazing, but go out of your way to hear "Yellow Paper" and "We Can Glow" .. you won't be disappointed. I promise.

It's a beautiful world.

May you always find your smile.
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