he called it a kiss. i called it a misrepresentation of a moment held lip to lip. hardly mentionable. if anything, exceedingly questionable of the stillness that holds silence in the dark. it lays thick. the silence. a hung canopy weighted in the air of deadly gasses to the masses particulate clouded in smokey haze and devilish grins of sarcasm and uncompensated limbs. how dare he even speak that word? he calls it a kiss. I take a drag of a menthol cigarette and exhale bullshit. we were once so beautiful then. no wrinkly lines to expose wasted years and wasted tears held with grains of sand and unspoken arguments that became our religion. the passion, an unrequited love marked by inked x's and o's reserved for secret lines and tell tale signs of what was passion of a honeymoon phase now the spark sprinkled from the star gazing eye dreaming of a hundred ways to become that reverie again. that mystical way in a graze of the skin became an ignitio...

he must be a god. Exhume him as a cartographers secret fetish twisting lines and deep curvatures as mountains stretch forth east and west. Ripples and valleys more. Much...much more. i am his center. Enveloped in the sweet moisture of his breath fuzzy memory of auditory beckoning shadow his reign over me. the unlike cliche of deep sound  where it meets vocal command even the whisper of him makes me listen. I hear him. Mouth and lips more. I listen. Cadence becomes undocumented synchronicity the mere parallel universe where I once escaped from emotional purgatory. Could you imagine a yell? His raising of octaves would command oceans to part and separate the seas from the salt of the earth, counting grains to become glass struck down from the result of the Heavens a faint sound to open ears. He's calling- and I come. No hesitance. No second thought or momentary lapse of indecision. He is so much more. he exists as truth, and I am his philosoph...

Push. Broken walls and shove into shattered dreams. Glass strewn across paced feet. Disrupt any clear thinking and Dissolve any hope of the future. Wasted tears, Wasted years. Push. Shout out into screams and yells Harsh tones and echoed Wedding bells Photo memories thrown into a flame Smoke filled air, a cigarette to blame. Push. Shake the vibrating truth Have misery seat itself in lies that are mute Dare to speak living in enclosed walls Feel nothing in skin, emotionally starved. Push. Shove. Push away have no clearance for embrace Shove me again, to the arms That will take. Push. -b.r.rivera

Your kiss made me experience advanced linguistics. Crossed the line and enticed the spiritual reminisce in the swirl of the tongue, delight of a dance, moment of endangerment. I recite unknown adjectives and strange dialect Secret musings and told reverence. and I dare you. Dare you to re-enter the atmosphere summoned by the gods between a vibration of tongue and surrendered indulgence. Wave a white flag, lick my lips and set me free I am a prisoner to  your sensuality. I remember. Your oratory storytelling of electrical sparks pulsing veins re-charging nerves and tendons Where muscled neuropathy left feelings in the dark Wakening from the emotional comatose state Relying on time to tic toc our little dance on fate. I dare you to remember. Dare you to come into my world and brave the dusty soil Thirsty earth and shallow oceans. Be my cartographers dream walk through foothills and valleys unknown draw new lines in the regions of my th...

Does a hope inscribed begin with subtle little lines engraved in shallow letters and hardened dreams faced with cursive lines and silent pleasantries How can a borrowed memory Become a shadowed past Fuzzy with details distastefully described In purgatory of Jacob's Ladder Worlds collide and clash and within, I find lies.   When a love letter becomes a complaint Where two wrongs become a right falls play to victim and Heavenly Saint When excuses become statements fallen from the lips Where complacency holds no wrongs because ultimately ignorance is bliss Where entering a home becomes a hostile territory When opening a lock becomes synonymous with dread from the flick of a key Does hope inscribed begin with subtle little lines Shaped as certificates that mean nothing Rings that are not eternal and dreams that give birth to become woeful funerals Anniversaries as impending doom A interruption to something- A toast to life, raise your glass Two young lo...

You invade me. There is no hidden offbeat path where I can dust myself off from rubble and shattered dreams. Bury myself from conflicted wounds and organized chaos that inevitably surrounds me. I wave a white flag. Simply surrender to the noise created from empty graves, beckoning scythe and Hail Mary's fingers approaching forehead, rosary laid to rest in heartless coffins. You are here. You hear no bugle horn calling its falling back, no wave of retreat into the dusk falling over the horizon. I have no place to go, no place to hide, no place to run Only a dream of what simple freedom felt like before the day disrupted cadence entered my life. -b.r.rivera

I've been gone for a while. Yeah...its like that sometimes. I was just two poems shy of the #30in30 challenge. Wanted to conquer this goal, but it was just within my reach. I would have liked to do this, but I just couldn't. I fell ill during the month of April, and just didn't have it in me. During this period of time though, I did explore the many facets of poetry and then began to fall in love with it over and over again. That's what love is. You think you neglect it, and it was there all along. And its so beautiful, and new, and wonderful when you find something you haven't discovered within it before. That's what love is to me. Love is poetry. During the month of May I was getting a lot things together. Finally moved the first week of June, and I am now happy where I am at. I hope that happiness stays with me. I always want peace in my environment. Sometimes its hard to have that peace when you crave other things, want the this and that of your life ali...