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
Misguided Quatrain
I’ve been down so many times
And for so long at a go
Happiness, it seemed to me
Was something that only the sky knows
Tags: Depression, Poetry, Quatrain
Long Time Coming
I am changing
I used to be like a patio umbrella
Left open in high winds
Rigid and stretched thin
Reacting violently to outside forces
I have recently remembered
To close that umbrella
When I am not using it
Or when a storm is coming in
I now let the wind flow around me
Leaving little for it catch and pull
Because I have finally realized
I cannot stop the wind from blowing
I am changing
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Growth, Poetry
One Good Day
I have been searching for moments of happiness
So I can string them all together and make one good day
It has been a life long project
Diligence is needed
Looking for a laugh, even on the inside
A smile, or just the warm glow
From petting a kitten
They all add up
I save them in a blue box
And every Saturday night
I sit in front of the television
And put them on the string
Try them on for a while
So far I have about three hours worth
I sure hope things pick up
Because I have been collecting for forty-six years
All I really need is sixteen hours worth
I don’t need them for when I sleep
I don’t dream at all
Maybe that is my problem
I am not a dreamer
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Human Condition, Poetry
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
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
My Cousin Tim
I would love to be selfish
But I really do not dare
Though I could not give a shit
There are those who care
My two boys and my girl
My wife and my folks
Would certainly miss
My laughter and jokes
And my mothers family
Would have to go through it again
You see, my cousin Tim
By his own hand his life was taken
I remember the sorrow
I remember the shame
But most of all I remember
Relating to his pain
I remember the anger
And even jealousy too
My cousin Tim
Did something I can not do
Tags: Adult Content, Adult Language, Autobiographic, Depression, Spoken Word
Sometimes
I don’t know about you,
but I have a tendency toward depression,
and when it rears its’ ugly head,
it clouds my mind with compulsive obsession.
My brow is furrowed, the corners of my mouth turn down,
and before long it is all I can think,
the only way out of this black-hearted spiral,
is to take a toke or perhaps have a drink.
I talk to my friends to cheer my self up,
but that is fleeting and wanes,
I play ball with my dog to try and steel her joy,
but then she tires and back comes my pain.
I want the suffering to end,
and since I can’t find the source,
I start thinking that driving into a tree,
is my only recourse.
Then I think about my children and my loving devoted wife,
and see there is no way this can be,
and feel robbed once again, cheated and vexed,
tell me why does this happen to me.
I don’t want to live, but I cannot take my life,
surely this serves to portend,
the one thing that’s left,
is for me to seek help once again.
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Poetry
Freedom
Freedom!
I want to be freed
From these voices inside of me
Echoing derogatory comments
Loser
I hate my life
How many times can a man hear that?
How long before he starts to believe?
A man once brimming with self-confidence
Torn down by his own mind
I can tell you
It begins slowly, a couple times a week
Say you screw something up
You loser
You can understand that
We all have our phrases
Idiot, numb nuts, dip shit, shit head
For me it has always been you loser
And I knew it didn’t mean a thing
Just something to say when you fucked up
You Loser
It almost had a comical edge
But something inside of me caught on
Grabbed that phrase
And started spitting it in my face
Once a day, for no reason
You loser
Twice a day, just because it could?
You loser
And then it started to pick up steam
Rolling over me every hour
And then that was too verbose
So it was simplified down to Loser
And it was spoken inside my head
So matter-of-factly
Then it went for broke
Every five seconds
(Softening, as I give up)
Loser
Loser
Loser
I mean a man can only take so much!
And I had it all, I HAVE it all.
A wife, three kids, two cars, a house in the burbs, a good job
And I am reduced to a loser
By my own mind
And I want freedom
My cousin Tim found freedom
In a bullet from his hunting rifle
But I don’t hunt anymore
And I’ve sold all my guns
But I still want freedom
So I become a danger to myself
I want to drive my car right into a tree
On the drivers side
But I can’t
I want too, but I fucking can’t
Because unlike my cousin
I can see what it will do to everyone I love
To my family and all of my friends
So, I suffer
And I pine for death
And what does that voice do?
It throws in another phrase
I hate my life
I sink, lower, and lower
But I still don’t have a gun
I could get one
I don’t have what it takes
I want freedom from this
I want freedom from This LIFE
But it’s not going to happen
So I see a shrink
And he starts putting me on this
And taking me off of that
In an effort to find the cocktail of pharmaceuticals
To keep my mind from destroying me
But this experimentation is taking its own toll
Putting my fragile psyche on a rollercoaster ride
It turned my depression into rage
And one day
When I wanted to kill someone with my bare hands
Because they were being an asshole
I checked myself into the psych ward
And is a story of its own so
When I got out one week later
It got worse than it had ever been
I had to hang on tight
To a very dim light
The light of hope that I could come through this darkness
And I did hold on
Taking a fistful of pills every day
Over the last year I have swallowed a pharmacy
But I have found it
Freedom
Tags: Adult Language, Autobiographic, Depression, F-Bomb, Spoken Word
A Simple Embrace
You know, dad,
I really do love you
You are the one I need to please
But there is something wrong with our relationship
Something is missing
And I don’t understand why
Little boys need their fathers’ approval,
But they do,
This is a void that only you can fill
Maybe if we hugged more
Like I hug my children…
I was never comfortable hugging
Because I got so few from you
I felt so uncomfortable and hollow
When I hugged someone
Until I met my wife
She opened that door for me
My hugs were reserved for her, alone
But I was expected to hug her family
And kiss them too
It felt so wrong
When I never hugged you or mom
Then I had children
And children need hugs
All the time
I give them willingly,
Even wantingly,
But you are still out of reach
I have been married
For fourteen years now
I can hug my wife’s family
I can do it easily
I can enjoy it
I even seek out hugs from some friends too
But you, and mom,
Are still miles away
Why is a simple embrace so hard?
I can’t remember when we stopped…
I must have been pretty young…
Sure it is the mother’s job to be nurturing,
But that does not mean that a father has to be cold
Can you tell me when I became too old to hug and kiss
And tell me which one of us made this decision,
Because I really need to know,
And dad, I really need a hug
Because I love you
And you are still here
So am I
And that means that there is still time
For us to get as comfortable hugging each other
As I have become with others
Who do not even share my blood
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Spoken Word
Mental Reincarnation
The echoes have stopped,
to quite a large degree,
thanks to the medication,
I’m feeling almost happy.
From darkness I am driving,
at a frightful speed,
running down my demons,
my mind is being freed.
Depression was the culprit,
that placed me under arrest,
Paxil is my lawyer,
and I’m quite impressed.
The cuffs have been removed,
my belongings been returned,
and that big manila envelope,
has joyfully been burned.
Freedom from self-destruction,
freedom from the pain,
freedom from depression,
I am feeling good again.
Tags: Autobiographic, Depression, Poetry
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