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Best Poems Written by Braden Bordello

Below are the all-time best Braden Bordello poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Real Confession To My One True Heart

"Though my actions, sometimes selfish and oppressive on the surface, inevitably land myself in a pit of dispair, yet for those of my supposed oppressors, repeatedly reap a formidable benefit.
Now this is not to say that my ends justify my means, however, if only in slight, my existence insists upon the benefit of others at the sacrifice of myself, as I am strong! Am I a shepard? I think not. I do though think that I am an effective scapegoat that I inspire others to learn from my uninhibited masked altruism.
Some would say there's no such thing as a selfless good deed. Well I'll be, perhaps the only man, who could argue...
Wait, I've lied and cheated my way through life, nevermind.
How can a human with such exuberant love and empathy for others hurt them so irreparably? This is my plight. I seem to have a messiah complex or there is something very simple I am overlooking, in my genius, that some have suggested the case. Yet nobody has ever given me a definitive answer to that which has been plaguing me since the beginning of time as I know it.
But I can fake it. And I can convince anyone of anything, but to you, my baby, I cannot feign. You own my heart wholly. And I would to the ends of the Earth succumb myself to unspeakable horror just to know the pinnacle of bliss so that I may hand it to you in platinum wrappings.
When you left, I left. I left everything you thought mattered to me behind. I intended not to come back, but it's strange how fate responds to ones that have the courage to defy it.
I could not die, tried as I might've, and for all the mishap I endured, in my dilution, I remained, alive. Why?"
"I just don't understand it too much."
"It's ok. The universe is unraveling exactly the way it should and you, my dear, are special. Are you happy today?"
"Yes, I am. Are you?"
"Taylor, you answered that for me....
Roses are flowers,
They die in cold weather,
I am for you,
As before and forever."

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Ouch

Her face showed he'd come off as predal
Now it was too late to backpedal
"Stupid wins prizes,"
She shouts, "of all sizes,"
Her handprint now worn like a medal

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A Stage

What, I cannot say,
A feeling something's wonkey.
Like mucking muddy sand at the bottom of the ocean,
Beneath acrobatic, trapeze artist monkeys.
What can be said,
About the snorkeling tigers?
Or the underwater chainsaw juggler,
Breathing fire?
There's a soggy clown around somewhere,
Spitting spades and hearts, and clovers.
It's a three-ringed circus sideshow - 
It too, will soon be over.

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Nirvana

I am the liquid of moonlight;
Ashes of dreams.
I am the realization of the impossible;
Renunciation of thought, serene.
I swim the seasons of time;
A memory of what's to come.
I am the flawless equanimity of the outcaste scavenger;
The infinite equilibrium of the illuminate sun.
I am the embodiment of dispelled desire;
The sage.
I am the squire.

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Twenty Twenty

Failure fault and foresight
Everything I can't forget
Anxious days and sleepless nights
Everything that I regret
I've forced myself degenerated
Through relentless stinging wind
From angst and guilt
To acceptance and hope - the gap I must transcend
What kept me there
In pits of dispair
It comes as no surprise
I'll be blind as a bat
Bathing in black
Until I open my eyes

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Questions

Why?
A question for which,
I've no answer surely,
I'd honestly hoped,
You'd've had it for me,
Save what or who, when or where,
Even how,
Or is it which?
It's escaped me 'til now,
I'll tell you,
As confidently as I can,
Enlightened? Perhaps,
Still merely a man,
I do have your answer, 
Though you may not like it,
Definitive and thoughtful, 
Fulfilling not likely,
To the inquiry looming, 
I know the outlook seems bleek,
But I promised a promise, 
I did tongue-in-cheek,
No lie, there're no answers,
But please don't be piqued
To put it quite simply, 
It's questions you seek.

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Picnic

Sticky melon juice
Drips down potbellied toddlers
Dirt and dust encrusts

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Swallowed

Stones,

Mortar, and brick

Nowhere to turn without feeling sick, stoned

To my stomach

A bottomless pit

Unheard, smothered by a thousand succinct voices' verbose drone

Speaking as they spew toxic, putrid bile in the pit of my stomach

Plummeting, swirling dizzily in circles - a cyclone - cyclically, alone

Booming, the whispering silence of lucidity's susurrate disruption weighs heavily on my thoughts, placidly as it sits

Like boulders, slowly sinking deeper into quicksand - the bottomless pit of my stomach

Swallowed by immovable, inescapable stones,
Mortar, and brick

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Trinket

Now tell me that you've felt a failure
In doing what was right
As salted pillows dampen
In the dead of sleepless night
A wonder, wonders bless the wicked
And the same thing in reverse
Ensure the gnarled vines of virtue
Are not easily traversed
With once a gleaming moral compass
More a burden than a tool
Its rusty ends give rhyme to meaning well
A witty slogan of the fool
The tightest grasp may softly loosen
Its slipping chain cuts like a knife
You try in vain to let it go
This blessed curse carried for life
As tainted blood drips from your calloused palm
And every orangy link
Try not to smirk upon the splashes
More rewarding than you'd think

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Imaginary Sabotage

Among those who lack conviction
Aspiration stays but a mirage
And for those crafting mountains from mole hills
Detriment a deadly barrage
Believers of strange eyes upon them
Flaunt shame as a wristed corsage
And without the courage to soften their hackles
Huddle confined to mind's dank garage
Clever are inventors of futuristic fear
Pasting pictures to a specious collage
Lamenting what isn't before them with dread
Self-subjected to vexation's entourage