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Best Poems Written by Brandon Connor

Below are the all-time best Brandon Connor poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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The Soul In the Den

Back in my hole in the back of the den
racking up souls with every heart that I spend

Laughing at those birdies floating far far away
half in astral detentions known to scar and fillet

Compacted in thy dirt, I’m comfortable in failure
It’s only after that I’ll hurt, for during I’m the sailor

mapping out tides I’ll avoid any turn
crashing into the same bridges that I’ve already burned

Back then my den was smaller and included
facts to save myself from the loneliness precluding

any ambition to pursue the wildest dream
or any mission of love, unrealistic though they may seem

They fashioned for me a reason to keep
myself trapped wholly deep thinking I needed the key

Some intangible force to unlock my own life
Some box of remorse I deserved from that wife

Soon I’ll dig myself out from this den
I’ll reclaim my soul and fill my heart with it again

Details | Brandon Connor Poem

My Hourglass

An explosion of hair in her face is disclosing
the beauty of the eyes veiled beholding
a dream unfolding where the poor are gold and
war is at most a bloody tale told in
the misty night when the tired have grown old with-
-out the tolls of belly aches, headaches, of long days, and frights
	
Bold in that stare behind her marigold locks
unearthing sand from the cogs of the clock
to find the prophecies of ink written in chalk
and the hourglasses spilling time when broken in thought

Speared was a heart fleeing the thought 
of what values would be shed plucking clots
leaving erased from the gallows written red where thou arts

To thank love apologize not from a part
within the within the humanitarian chart
is to disgrace predecessors flooded where caught 
red-handed bearing spirits not winded but sought

Ever flusters her retreating tendrils, those magnificent knots,
from their comfortable or fleeting pores, where ink drops on the flesh and blots 

(written sometime during a dark 2015)

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Sensitive

I say a lot of things but little of it has any meaning
These daily words and conversations are all too quick and fleeting
But NEVER say the wrong thing; in this age you can’t delete them
Lines have become blurry, distorted; drawn jagged and uneven
Wrong might seem right for a minute, but then forever you’re a heathen
Someone gets offended at the damage your opinion might be dealing
Then the assailant isn’t even allowed to respond with any feelings
Not remorse or regret nor will they hear any pleading
Go away and rot and repent you guilty cretin

Don’t disagree with me, don’t try to explain, I won’t hear a thing
I’m too far ingrained into the world I maintain; to me, it is what it is
Your truths are all false, I loudly explain; credit to your perspective I will never give
Into one ear and right out the other go all the ideas by which you’ve lived

So eventually everyone passes by each other not even speaking
Now there’s too much risk. What’s the point? There’s no reason
New issues arise and historical scabs surface again; our defeat is
hidden with the values we’ve kept from ourselves, where they die lost and bleeding

Details | Brandon Connor Poem

Panic Attack

Panic attack, Panic attack
What when where why remedy 
of a soul’s splitting in two
Panic attack, Panic attack
The demons too deep hymn one’s own threnody
The devil to he who suffers introduction grins fair adieux

Panic attack Panic attack
Medicine for a malady
for the spirits of anguished weeping few
Panic attack Panic attack
A rose for a bud, a corruption for a fallacy
As is true for the moon is the importance of what one has power to do 

Deep breathe, Deep breathe
Parched oasis, dying serenity
Acid in the wound to suffuse
Deep Breathe, Deep Breathe
Within a species capable of mental voracity
one finds the norm repudiating to asperity
For which there may be nothing one can do
except stand two by two

(written sometime during a bleak 2015)

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Summer Or Winter

I hate the humidity
I hate what it does
I hate wearing sunscreen
I hate all the bugs
I like the thirties
I like wearing gloves
But I also like the dirt leftover on my clubs
Mementos from courses I’ve hacked up with buds
And who doesn’t like sitting outside in the sun?

I’ll miss it to death to tell you the truth
Though winter’s cold breath over cocoa and soup
Whispers its gentle peacefulness to me
Simpler to escape the cold than the heat
A big sweater and cozy socks for the feet
Books and movies and lovely company

I think I can deal with the heat and the grubs
Half of the year I’ll be comfy and snug

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Chemical Malady

Can’t function without it
The conjunctional life
And punctures confounding
A subjugal strife

My endurance depleting
My inevitable fallacies
Determined to beat this
Chemical malady

but

Deep down in the ditch
Is where I feel safe
Weak in the grips
Of insanity’s embrace

You can’t lift me out
Try as you may
Insipid, I pout
Is this where I’ll stay?

(Written 09/17/2018)

Details | Brandon Connor Poem

Humankind

Independent laws, moral tune
Reserve applause, infernal loom
Creator clause, fatal monsoon

Turn tables above, summer bloom
Floweth love, beguiling June
Flying dove, impeccable croon

Abundant crime, seasonal doom
Existential times, big ‘to-do’
Blunt shaped line, resulting kaboom

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Reborn

I may have grown tired
     but my lungs have opened wide
Never to be so inspired
     as when we shut the divide

Now universally singing verses to be heard
voices chorusing uniformly wringing through the urn
which formed splits and fissures through my nervous cord
hexed cortex adorned with loose tissue and enormous horns
looming viciously against my dreams

     I am reborn

Details | Brandon Connor Poem

Compounding Demons

I now count down the days like I used to count the letters
waiting on when you’ll hurt too so I can start to feel better
straying never too far in case you found the couplet or
poems I wrote you, or are they waste? slouched behind the dresser?
I can hear the same words over and over, homie move on, really just forget her
I can see the way her breast did heave when he surprisingly caressed her
I can feel vehemently but only on the inside where it will stay and fester
Still it will eat wretchedly at me until one day I learn to accept the 
one simple fact that the more I exist the more I will upset her

Now and again you come and go
	where you have no business visiting
Hold up my brain and dumb it slow
	compound that demon it’s swimming with
Somehow back then our alliance was gold
	now you laugh and cringe at my fidgeting
Lapped by friends who play and grow old
	so why should there be any difference in
	how you’ve been re-envisioning my soul
	into the very something you know I’ve been fighting with?


(unknown written date)

Details | Brandon Connor Poem

For Whom Will Life Bloom

Life is a game
Life is a test
Life is an ever erupting volcano of pain and sorrow
Life is rigged
Life sucks
Life is a swollen breast nowhere for nurture
Life is impossible 
Life is unfair
But just because life is limited doesn’t mean the open infinite isn’t always there

(written sometime during 2015)