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Mickey Brady Poem
I have this need
for success
to truly succeed
in happiness
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
The storm comes less often now,
Come it does.
Cyclical… Circular… predictable in its pattern.
It’s been a while dear friend.
The sun so bright-
Harder to find you these days
Memories slow my step suddenly.
Seizing my mind as our past flashes upon a wall.
Compelled… Consumed… by these morsels of time.
Times when immortality we feigned.
This is the calm –
The beginning of the storm
Clouds gather upon the horizon.
The earthy smell of its coming is heavy… heavy upon a familiar breeze.
Ah yes… the breeze that seems cooler than it should.
I draw deeply on this… this sweeping scent of eternity’s veil.
The clouds grow –
Shadows and sunlight struggle before me
All warmth escapes my aura.
I am immersed.
Frantically… Languidly… into the coming of the storm.
Welcome is this diversion… shade from the invading sun.
My mind surrenders –
Souls grasping across time for the other
Peculiar is the searing peace which accompanies the pall.
Only here in the shadows do I… Can I…
Betray… Embrace… the extent of my pain.
Mundane detail is lost in the altered light.
The storm is upon me –
Within me
It arrives with intensity. The winds rage…
Between us.
Deafening… Silent… reprieve from the tainted melody.
The almost honest lyrics of my daily stage.
Thunder claps –
This encore overdue
In the windows of my soul. The salty rain…
Begins to fall.
Welling… Streaming… down the valleys of my contorted mask
I welcome the pain… for in it is your smile.
It lasts until –
Its over
It is in the storm that I find you. Little brother…
Leading me forward.
Laughing… Reaching… You bring forever to my eye.
I gleefully let you go again. One eye upon the horizon of always.
I see you little brother –
Receding within me
The shadows persist. The winds no longer rage…
Warm is the breeze.
Comforting… Teasing… as the soul-glow rushes not to leave.
The violent outpour but a misty drizzle.
The storm comes –
Less often now
I miss you most as you leave. Pain becomes peace…
In the wake.
Squinting… Basking… I welcome the glare of the sun.
It seems brighter each time… your shadow grows longer.
Until the next storm –
We live
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
Love; over rated
Both paupers and kings
Razor-barbed brass rings
How strangely fated
For this I've waited?
My soul groans then sings
My heart soothes then stings
Alas, Love hated
What am I to do
Where am I to go
Beg a magic brew
Steel my heart to you
Peace my soul may know
Alone... Love I rue!
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
The steps come easy
Almost hurried as I tread
The uneven trail before me
The sun is low in the sky
Distracted by the long
Angled shadows
Before me
Brought back to you
By the rushing sound
Of your breathing
Like a stony brook
I reach for you with
My eyes
My hand
I take hold of your smile
As my groping fingers
Stroke the small of you
We see in us
The other’s lust
Compelled by anticipation
Bottles clank to my side
As we descend the
Bluff above the river
You take my hand for keel
As your other is bundled
With music and quilt
We find our spot
That secret spot
Bathed by the whole day’s sun
There is shade in reach
But it’s the sun we seek
Chilled by the morning mist
As I knelt
We spread our quilt
Cornflower blue
Where clover eagerly grew
Placing my bundle at the head
Our riverside bed
Frames us like a
Masterpiece…
lit by the
Late morn sun
Hours we’ve spent
Upon wine, cheese and laughter
Drunk on smiles and lust
Have us we must
As the breathing grows
Rapid and musical
Moans of hunger
Filling the air around us
Joining the singing birds
And dancing trees
Our bodies move as one
Locked in the rhythm of all
Like pixies of spring
Undressing slowly
Taunting on the breeze
Sunlight hot upon
The angles of us
Soothing deep
Melting into the
Melting of you
Reaching over
My shoulder
Moonlight sonata
Gently echoes across the water
The music enters in
The midst of us
Tickling the ends of us
Driving our dance so smooth
We draw on our wine
Crimson and fine
And merge the delight
With a kiss
I nibble the flesh
From nape to breast
Easing scrapes with
Ministrations… soft and wet
Feel your blades
On my back
Shoulder to thigh
Tickling my eye
So naughty – take
My breath away
Kisses long and deep
Breathing passion
At the others gasp
Feel my hardness trace
Deftly the center of you
Break our embrace
Kissing a trail to
To the scent of you
Hearing our music
As I do… you offer
You to me, frantic
Wet, setting my pace
Grinding the face
That’s grinning through
Your desire
Dripping…
Off of the corners of
Of my thirst
I taste of my wine
And mix it with thine
As we taste us
Upon the Mage’s grape
Flesh quivers and begs
Girded with legs
A tempo in flux
Beethoven conducts
My bow across
Your cello
Sweet medley of
Body language refrain
Haunting and deep
With a key to the keep
Tis a trembling click
The door spasms ajar
It’s heard from afar
As the passion of the meadow screams back.
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
Sunlight falling gently through the shifting cloud-shadows and chatter.
Unsteady breezes warm then cool the surfaces of me.
A muffled jazz number escapes a high corner of the awning covered bistro.
Lyrics of "He said... She said" impose themselves upon the eclectically arranged melody,
creating Muzak of the disgruntled and overly amused.
This cacophony of white noise glances off the growing serpentine barriers of my solitude.
Seeking myself within myself, the horns and drumbeats amplify into a soundtrack of my descent.
Heralding the arrival of myself into myself.
The turbid currents of my deepening waters toss me, cradle me.
Unclean yet serene, peace begins to precipitate these particles of my cloudy fear.
With a clarity of the Oracle's perspective I watch the images of my soul cast
upon the cave walls of my mind.
I sit for a while as I entertain myself.
So glad to mostly see myself.
I am jerked back to preality by a too large man squeezing past me.
He stoically refuses to see how his obesity has intruded upon my frailty.
With polite remorse I forgive the infraction while settling back into my poorly disguised egobesity.
the strings and keys are once again overwhelmed by the drivel of the blank faced crowd.
the sharpness of the large man's cigar creates an unfavorable breeze.
I squint into the harsh sunlight as
I observe the retreat of my solitude with a familiar regret.
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
I open my eyes within your mind
Trying to see your world as you do
Yearning
Searching
Seeing
Hoping to find our self from within…
You
Us
Now
There we are within an image
projected upon the haze of our desire;
A rolling mist at the base of the falls.
Where our living waters strike the rocks of Now's death
Defiant waters daring to rise again
To live again
To love again
To be…
Not alone
Without
Beyond!
I see us there within the hopeful cloud
Dancing as if the melody of our passion
May end at any moment.
Pressing against us, we strive to be one
To talk
To laugh
To live through and within the eternity between us.
We dance in the light of day.
Scattering the spectra of our togetherness
Defiantly
Fervently
Completely
In the fleeting rainbows of our hunger
I cherish this view of the Now
This dance
This wonderful edifying embrace
Tandem
Journey
May we forever see the glory of our soul
Dancing fluidly
Freely, in step with the subtle rhythm of Now.
To a tune that cannot end.
Whisper in my ear, Dear One.
Tell me the tale of who you are
Really
Safely
Joyfully
Listen to who I am in the story of my own rushing waters
Deep
Warm
Alive
That we may find comfort in the turbulence of our union.
Don’t tell me how amazing we will be … someday
Somehow
Maybe
Show me that you can love right now.
That you can be content
Complete
Transcendent
In this instant and again in the next
Next
Next …
Take me to the places, the hidden places that stir you to dance.
The places where you move without restraint
Inhibition
Ego
Where you have no fear of being interrupted by the clumsy feet of others.
I will take you to the places, the magic places that spin me like a dervish upon the earth.
Blindly
Buoyantly
Wantonly
Making our heart whole as our body language screams through the high walls of our sanctuary…
Again
Again
Again
Shall we dance?
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
So many people alive this age
So few are true today
Living their lives upon the stage
Acting out their foolish play
Some the mask of courage
Still others mimic the mime
To better hide their hidden rage
Their mask grows heavy in time
Mask oh… Mask tell me
Why do you hide?
It must be awful lonely
Lonely on the other side…
Please oh…please
Won’t you come out to play
I’d love to see your beauty
Won’t you throw your mask away
Pain within… Peace without
Eyes that smiles can’t hide
Why the fear… Why the doubt
Senseless human pride
Mask oh… Mask tell me
What do you hide?
It must be awful scary
Scary on the other side…
Please oh…please
Won’t you come out to stay
God don’t make mistakes
Don’t you hide yourself this way
Plaster mask lay shattered
In pieces on the ground.
Many actors scattered
By the light my eyes have found
Mask oh… Mask tell me
Why did I hide?
Life is now worth living
living on the other side…
Please oh…please
Won’t you help me I pray
To see and feel my beauty
You know ….
God made me this way
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
There is a beautiful ancient burial ground in the Ozark mountains that is the resting place for countless generations of my lineage. One of those places that completes a part of me that remains incomplete wherever else I might be. It is the place where I can best see forever. The fulcrum of my forever...
I love this place.
To me it is the very garden of grace.
Jesus gladly endured Gethsemene and Golgotha so that each mouldering stone would herald a continuing hope.
I have Old Lebanon Cemetery to turn my sweat to blood as I implore my god.
I make the journey often but never often enough.
As I draw near, my spirit races ahead.
Eager to embrace the rest of me...
The best of me who have been awaiting my return.
This lovely mountain knoll spreads out upon sacred earth.
Ancient oak and cedar stand sturdy watch over rows of shifting stones.
Over piles of chambered bones.
These token efforts to cast permanence upon the temporal.
To me and mine, 'tis folly divine...
The holiest of holes in eternity's veil.
Where those souls precious to ours set sail...
Without a single tear among them.
They know what we can hardly imagine... forever.
Even as granite turns to sand and soil is amended by what is left of man.
I feel the gentle burn within my soul ushering me toward the portal of what awaits... To whom awaits.
They must know how this fever will grow as I settle in to watch the door for a bit.
I rub the stones and chew the bones of those who made me... Me.
I share the salty mist that gathers upon the windows of my soul with the soil of their interment.
It won't be long
before this song
of my people includes my stanza.
The footnote of a life too long.
When measured by right and wrong.
Summed in verse, some epitaph too terse.
As I gather to leave I feel them here.
Gone yet near.
I feel the warmth of soul smiles assuaging my fear.
I imagine them the whole day long, as I write, being the song and sending me a lyric for every tear.
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
I desire to live, love and be the me I see when
glancing through the grace colored eyes of Thee.
I endeavor to be present... to be the Love I long for
when peering through the fear shaded eyes of We.
Love and Grace can only exist in me as I give them away.
This is a gentle truth possessed by all who are truly free.
I choose to live, love and be in communion with the splinters of We
with wide-eyed pursuit of our timeless commonality.
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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Mickey Brady Poem
Lo, we have become the machines of our machines and the cast of our own memories.
You know you’re getting old when you look forward to the past.
A past revealed like an onion being peeled back.
The tears can sneak up on you.
Friends long remembered, pop in at the stroke of a finger.
So inversely wonderful to have more friends from high school than I had in high school.
People seem so much more resilient than my memory.
I suppose friends concentrate over time while my recollection is ever more dilute.
So many un-friended faces still swim through my turbid mind.
Echoes and Ghosts, Echoes and Ghosts...
Copyright © Mickey Brady | Year Posted 2014
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