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Best Poems Written by Brandon Carver

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

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First Thing You Should Know

First thing you should know, is that this isn’t a poem, this isn’t a story, this isn’t a
song,
these are just words I write to hopefully ease the pain.
Alone, bitterness, horror, emptiness, loss of basic will. How is it you could do this to
me, how can your absence leave me so bereaved to the world. I try to smile, but it
never reaches my eyes, I try to laugh but it never reaches my heart. It’s like your
absence has left a damn in my veins, blocking any emotion, but pain to pass through.
How is it your absence, can so drastically change my daily life. How can I sit in a
house surrounded by loving caring friends, and still feel utterly alone. How is it that I
couldn’t explain how much I loved you, and now I can’t seem to explain how much
this hurts. How could we go from being so perfect, that our friends envied us, to
feeling like were better apart. How does the alcohol, and cigarettes not dull the
pain. Hell for that matter what can. What can make the absolute horror of losing the
one thing that made everything worth it, go away. How do you go on when you lose
that. If I feel like I could never have left you, that I would have always tried, but u
left me, does that mean it was all one sided. How could it be so easy for you to
move on, whilst I’m still crippled by pain. And if it was only one sided what does that
mean for me, if you were THE ONE but I wasn’t yours where does that leave the rest
of my life. Am I doomed to walk this plane in misery. Will I be much like this
computer I sit in front of, lonely, devoid of all meaning until someone has a use for it,
operating only because someone else tells it too. But then again, what if it wasn’t all
one sided, what if I was THE ONE for you as well, what does that mean, will I find a
way to get back to you, how long will it take, what will it take, is it possible.
Everyone has a story of loss and of pain, but for some reason I don’t believe they
understand, much the way they didn’t understand our love.
First thing you should know, is that this isn’t a poem, this isn’t a story, this isn’t a
song,
these are just words I write to hopefully ease the pain.

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First Thing You Should Know 2

First thing you should know, is this isn’t a poem, it’s not a story, it’s not a song.  These 
are just the mad ramblings of a genius with a headache. 
Watching the smoke curl between his fingertips, he wonders.  Is it his body that’s on 
fire or his soul?  Physically he feels fine yet he sees the flames, inside the pain is 
excruciating yet, not a scratch to be seen.  Isn’t that a thought though, not a scratch to 
be seen on his soul.  Why is it that the scratches and cuts that do the most damage are 
the ones you can never see?  How can that much pain not leave a visible mark?  How 
much pain can the soul take before it turns into the story of humpty dumpty, never to 
be put back together again?  Isn’t it funny how you can forget your dying, when you 
have died inside?
First thing you should know, is this isn’t a poem, it’s not a story, it’s not a song.  These 
are just the mad ramblings of a genius with a headache.

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Damaging Calm

Swirling, chaotic, unending, torturous, darkness.  Black as the deepest black, he sits, 
wondering how could she nurture his dark side.  This blinding rage that fills his soul, is 
so foreign, he’s usually so calm, and collected.  But she is starting to damage his calm.  
This music isn’t helping, nothing does.  It just builds and builds the temperament slowly 
getting worse and worse.  This poison is killing him, if he doesn’t release it, he will 
explode.  But where does he turn to let loose the torrential hatred?  How can he loose 
this torment on others and live with himself.  To be or not to be violent, THAT is the 
question.  Does he continue to proliferate, or does he release upon the masses.  Which 
is the lesser of two evils, to die from his own abomination, or does he smite those who 
cause this?

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4am

It’s 4 a.m. and I can’t sleep,
I lay here and watch you sleep.
I feel your warmth as you lay next to me,
With you in my arms there’s no were else I’d rather be.
I feel the tickle on my nose from your hair,
Feel the cold from your feet that are bare.
I hear your slight snore that warms my heart,
I don’t want to get uncomfortable because I don’t want to part.
I feel your small shakes that signal your falling asleep,
But it’s 4 a.m. and because of you I can’t sleep.
It’s 4 a.m. and I can’t sleep,
You’re not here so I weep.
The warmth I feel is only my imagination,
You being in my arms again is a hallucination.
The tickle on my nose is just the blanket,
The cold of your feet is actually just the current.
Your snore is just the sounds of the house,
The loss of you has unfortunately caused me to rouse.
Your shakes is that of my body because I can’t keep,
It’s 4 a.m. and without you here I can’t sleep.

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How

“Blame it on the weather, but my life is a mess” isn’t that the line to start.  Isn’t it 
amazing how quickly our lives can change, how you can go from being absolutely 
captivated, to being unbelievably forlorn.  How is it people tell us they love us then they 
leave us, is it just me or is there a greater lack of understanding, at the meaning of the 
word “Love”.  How can five little words in and of themselves unimportant, devastate a 
life?  How can such simple words make a person seriously consider ending their life?  
How can a person be able to tolerate this much pain?  How do we go on when we lost 
the meaning for our existence?  How do you go on?  How do you smile when, your 
heart is so wrenched, how do you stifle the tears?  How do you enjoy what life you 
have remaining, when no joy permeates your mangled soul, when you don’t feel like 
you have a life left, you feel devoid of meaning?  How is it alcohol, drugs, sex, they 
never seem to ease the pain, but for the briefest moments?  How do you escape or 
deal with something that never seems to end?  How is it two emotions, that couldn’t be 
further from each other cause so many of the same concepts?  How is it you can go 
from being so in love that you couldn’t imagine being able to explain the strength of it, 
to in so much pain that you couldn’t begin to explain it well enough.

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Opposites

Anger,  Love. Sadness, elation.  How is it that two feelings, so far from each other on 
the spectrum, could elicit so similar of responses.  More over how can the same items 
cause similar reactions in life?  To love deeply; to be lost in a haze, to stumble over 
simple words and actions, will bring the greatest man to his knees.
To feel immense pain; to be lost in a haze, to stumble over simple words and actions, 
will bring the greatest of men to his knees.
Further still how is it we can love and hate the same things in a person?  The way she’s 
quick to anger; hate; she’s always trying to be the tough one.  Love; She is the tough 
one (she can take care of herself) 
How is it opposites are called such, yet are so similar in so many ways.  Why is it like 
that, is it just to cause us more grief, or is there another reason that we can’t 
comprehend?  How is it that we can feel such love whilst feeling such anger, at the 
same thing?  Opposites, are they really all that different?

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Alone

Sitting alone in the house surrounded by friends,
He doesn’t understand how life could be so empty.
He cant understand, how this life of theirs could turn this way,
To go from a love out of fiction to hatred.
He smiles, but it never reaches his eyes,
He laughs but it never reaches his heart.
How can he be surrounded  by people but feel so alone,
How can one person make such a difference in his life.

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Possibilities

God to hear you say my name brings elation in a way I didn't’t think possible.  To 
believe for even the briefest of moments that there is possibility.  Possibilities for the 
joy, the happiness, that meaning of being with the one you’re meant to be with.  I wish 
that everything could be mended in the blink of an eye.  I wish that I had a time 
machine to go back and erase all the hurt I caused.  But just know that every day I 
breath is a day I respire for you.  You, to any other observer are just a typical person.  
Ah but if they but could see with my eyes, they would see how the fire of the sun could 
not brighten up the world the way you do.  How the color of the rarest flower is dull 
compared to you.  How is it possible to feel this way about one single person?  How is it 
that with your absence from my soul, there is no meaning to basic things?  And how is it 
that just to hear a single word from you is a matter of bliss unbeknownst to the rest of 
the world.  Who are you to make me feel this way, who are you to invade me through 
every fiber and pore of my very being.  Why is it that the very things that I hate about 
you are the very things I love so dearly?  How can I love you so much as to not be able 
to tell you these things that I can so easily write?

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Why

Why does this cloud never seem to leave, why does it always seem to be raining?  Why 
is it that as soon as the sun seems about to peek over, something happens to make it 
disappear again?  Why does the world always seem to be dark?  Why can’t I find some 
light somewhere?  Why is it the things I do only seem to make it darker, and harder to 
move on?  Why do I have to think the way I do?  Why can’t I seem to do the things I 
need to do for me, instead of for you?  Why can’t I be loved like I love?  Why is it when 
my phone rings I pray to god it’s you?  Why can’t I get passed you, the way you 
seemed to have gotten passed me?  Why is it you’re the only place that feels right?  
Why do I hate and love you so much, that it hurts?  Why do these memories haunt me 
so badly, that I want to take a drill to my temple to get rid of them?  Bang, bang, bullet 
to the brain, everything goes away.  But would that really make it any better?  Or would 
I be forced to live out eternity feeling this way?  Would I haunt this plane of existence 
mourning?  Would it even bother you?  How could I do that to you, would it be fair?  
Why do I laughingly cry in the face of this misery?  Why does my brain say one thing 
and my heart says another?  Why do I not know which one to follow?  Why do the 
rambling chaotic thoughts of a genius not matter to any but himself?  Why am I that 
genius, and why do I have a headache?