WARNING: I drop the F-Bomb in some of my writing. I believe in free speech, if this will offend you, please move along.
Dain Brammage
Art, Poetry and Spoken Word
Art feeds the soul, not only for the artist, but for the patron as well. Please browse around and see what has been on my menu. Comments are always appreciated. ~Love, db
Current
Vibrations
String Theory
Demons
Plucking
My String
Theories
My body is alive, juiced
All set a-buzz, currently
Current is flowing
My body is electric
Like an electric guitar
With a demon plucking it’s strings
Or my strings
I feel like a Fender Telecaster
Wound tight in the body
Because that’s where I pick it up
Mostly, wear my heart should be
I have a hole where my heart was
Strung tight with six strings
In perfect tune
Vibrating
Because they have been plucked
By a demon
Who plays the blues
Deep moaning blues
With lots of low tones
Vibrations with lower amplitude
Shaking my soul harder
Thumping in that hole
Wailing blues
Hammered out
High end of the scale
Screaming at me in high-frequency
Setting my whole body a-buzz
With a current that currently
Truly disturbs me
A slow-crying delta blues
Sadly weeping
And then gasping for air
This is the one
That brings tears to my eyes
Vibrations
String Theory
Demons
Plucking
My String Theories
My body is electric
An electric guitar
With a demon
Who plays the blues
Plucking my strings
And at the same time
There is a little tiny part of me
Who is that very same demon
Who plays the blues
On that Fender Tele
Strung tight
Six strings
String theory
Tuned perfectly
The pain
The perfect pain
The blues
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Spoken Word
Chalk Outlines
Chalk on the pavement
Outlines the little boys hand
And just out of reach
Another outline
The chalk he was holding
The rest of his body has been outlined too
Twisted and mangled
This scene plays out on the sidewalk
In front of my house
The tracing is of my oldest boy
There is a large area in red
Spilling outside the chalked lines
And all of this was done
By the hands of his little brother and sister
I am standing here quite disturbed and confused
Wondering why they would do this to him
I know when they walk down the street
They come across this scene far too often
It is hard for a young child to understand
Somebody has died, been removed from this earth
Never to grace their friends and family
With their company again
The outline was as good as any other that I have ever seen
And the chalking of blood staining the street
Makes me think of Monet
Because the texture of the concrete
Has forced the pool to appear with the brush strokes
Of a great impressionist
An impression is definitely being left in brain
As I stand with my arm on the shoulder
Of my oldest son, the victim
While his brother and sister stand beaming and proud
Over their masterpiece of life on streets
I have often heard it said that life imitates art
But for children growing up in this day and age
It is becoming all to clear that art all-to-often imitates life
I have been trying to remove myself
From this hard and cold fact
To stand with my three children and be proud of
Their ill-conceived artwork
And yet, I remain disturbed, and sadden too.
The only thing I can think of to say to them is
You better sweep that away before your mother
Comes outside and sees what you have done
Because if you don’t, surely then, there will be hell to pay
And all three of you may wish you were dead
Tags: Channeled, Spoken Word
Patience
I realize that you think I’m greedy
But if you thought you’d see I’m needy
It is long past time for you and me
To do the loving deed you see
I’ve waited for you quite so patiently
While you would tease and cruelly bait me
Because my love I state to thee
Is deep from the heart and felt completely
To hold your hand and stroke your hair
Caress your face so fine and fair
To embrace you closely when I dare
Keeps me coming back to your haunting stare
And I am deeply thankful for all you do
Profoundly happy with thoughts of you
Wisely waitful and stand true
Though my balls seem to be turning blue
You’re contagious vivacious energy
Seems to have entirely entrapped me
Your elegant and radiant beauty
Has me starry eyed and not seeing clearly
It is true enough for you to say
Your virtue is yours alone to save
But I’ve something to express if I may
Parts of me throb for you each day
As each day passes it is pounding harder
And in this affair I’ve been the martyr
Understanding I’ve nothing worth to barter
To entice you to consummate that which we’ve started
I’ve offered up my heart and soul
Told you together we would grow old
Agreed when you said it should not be sold
But just how much longer I must be told
I realize that you think I’m greedy
But if you thought you’d see I’m needy
It is long past time for you and me
To do the loving deed you see
But the twisted truth that you teach me
Is I’ve fallen in love with the greatest cock-tease
You
Tags: Adult Content, Adult Language, Channeled, Spoken Word
Inane Echoes
Nothing of value to say,
just jabbering on and on
silence would be a miracle
if you were to be in the room.
Your inane chatter
brings to mind
my nights of cocaine and beer
from so long ago.
Imagine a bunch of people
bombed on beer, sloppy-drunk
coked up and all talking at the same time
very loudly
The blow makes the mind think
that everything is fine
but the legs remember
the last three beer bongs
But now to get back on topic
you and your mouth
plus the fact
that after fifteen minutes with you
I would gnaw off my leg to avoid
your pointless conversation
and shrilled cackle
How long have you been talking now?
Seems like a lifetime
Let’s see you have been here
an hour and a half now
I don’t know how you do it
it is somewhat of a mystery to me.
I remember that one drunken night where
I fucked you to get some silence
and that didn’t even work
at least you talked about the sex
and how big I was
I swear
you must run your mouth
from the moment you awake
to second pass out…
What?
I am sorry, I kinda’ zoned out there for a minute…
What were you saying?
Tags: Adult Content, Adult Language, Channeled, F-Bomb, Spoken Word
Untitled - because…
Untitled - because that old feeling is back again
Melancholy
Rage
Self-destruction
Depression
These feelings return
Dominating my spirit
Driving my motives
Clouding my mind
Over an hour ago
I had a fit of rage
And it still clings to me
Pushing my thoughts
Into a psychotic bliss
A mobias-loop of self-loathing
Peppered with thoughts of suicide
Knowing the nature of the beast
Is not enough
Having a strong support system
Is not enough
Knowing its tricks
Does not stop you
From falling for them again
For it feeds on itself
Once it starts it produces its own fuel
It can manifest stress or create chaos
Where none exist
Leave you stranded on an island in a sea of despair
Alone
Or so it would seem
–
Untitled – because I see no point in bothering
I can feel myself starting to slip
The slope I teeter on is steep and long
There are jagged rocks protruding
From the hard dusty soil
The ride to the bottom is going to be fast
I will be bleeding and battered
When I thump on the bottom
Hopefully in a coma
So I don’t feel the pain
I am beginning to want to give in though
To just dive over the edge
I don’t see any point in trying
Maintaining balance is just so much work
The Medication I am on is supposed to help
To keep at bay the demons I am seeing
I only see theirs right now
Peering at me
Watching me from the darkness
Laying in wait
For me to lower my guard
They move slower than a sloth at first
Getting closer by the hour
When they sense that you are at the point
That I teeter on
They emerge into full light
And you are theirs
Then no anti-depressant will help
The demons will haunt for days
Manipulating you
Pushing you
To give up all together
They have almost beaten me several times
I have held tightly to my family
They are like the human chain lying on the thin ice
To keep me from drowning
And some how they have always managed
To pull me back onto firm ground
But the water is so cold
And I hang on for so long
My hands ache
I just want to let go
But they still cling to me
–
Untitled – because the voice in my head won’t let me
I hear voices,
Actually I hear a voice,
Sounds familiar,
with a tinny-ring to it.
It does not tell me to do things,
Nor does it converse,
It Echoes like thunder
sweeping through a valley.
It used to repeat one word
over and over
“Loser”
again and again
Now it has a new phrase
that it likes to mix in
“I hate my life”
“Loser”
It is trying to tear me down,
make me weak,
get me to take extreme actions
by expanding it’s vocabulary.
One day
it will start haunting me
in full paragraphs,
followed by novelettes.
By this time I should be interned
at the local psychiatric center.
At least that is what I hope
Life on the street
in this state of mind
has to be really tough.
–
Untitled – because I fear the corporate hit squads
I sold out
So long ago
Should forgive myself
But I won’t
I wasn’t even a man yet
My maturity still years away
Should have done what I wanted to
Instead of following in my fathers shadow
I am not sure why I did it
For the money?
To make dad happy and proud?
Because at sixteen
Thinking for yourself
Is just to damn hard?
The reason no longer matters
And I am still young enough
To get myself back on track
But I won’t
Now I am slave to my income
Wife
kids
dog
house
minivan
car
What ever happened
To the one income family?
Actually, I know the answer
When Corporate America saw
The cash lying on the table
The prices for everything went up
Same story
Different day
They won’t be satisfied until
children have to work
Just to keep a roof
Over the families head
Put a meal on the table
That is unless
they can figure out a way
to have pets employed too
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Spoken Word
SMASHED
OK
So less awl raise our glash
And toasht poltry
Hearsh to all worlds that we write an reshite
All your wordsh that may or may not be good
And to all of minesh that is good
(drinks a pint of ale)
Sa-matter?
Tooth FUCKING Hurtsh?
Well then FUCKING practish
I don’t need to practish
I am gif-hic
Gif-hic
Really good
My wordsh are like magic
FUCKING MAGIC
Magic
Mag…THUMP (passes out)
Tags: Adult Language, F-Bomb, Humorous, Spoken Word
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Fat Men Don’t Fly
I saw two of the fattest Red-Breasted Robins
outside of my Doctors office the other day
They did not seem to have any problems getting around…
YET!
I wanted to warn them about the dangers of obesity
of the health risks involved
The added stress on their backward turned knees
The silence of high blood pressure
And the increased heart rate
which I would think would be especially dangerous
for birds whose heart rate is already off the charts
About cholesterol clogging their tiny veins
it would probably only take a month
to put them into a life-threatening cardiac event,
if they could just keep their distance
from that slim cat over there
I felt compelled to yell at them…
You should be eating like birds
Lay off the Nightcrawers
Start eating Red Worms instead
Take a tip from a man of great weight
It’s getting hard to stand up from a chair
and the stairs are leaving me breathless
NOT in a good way
So now take to wing while you still can
my chubby feathered friends
but remember
Fat men don’t fly.
Tags: Autobiographic, Social Commentary, Spoken Word