I’m not driven
Here to scriven,
But something once I took as given
Has, of late, been riven,
Seemingly, by me just live’n.
All the thoughts, my mind is sieve’n,
And the rhymes are misbehaving.
Bryson Thomas
Tag: poetry
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Fame is correlation
Not a causeA coincidence of luck
That opens doorsA megaphone for voices
Sounding wiseBut catering to tastes
Of passing fliesMercurial
Ethereal
Nutritious as kids’ cereal
A sparkle
On the turds
Of crushing bores.Bryson Thomas
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Entwined
Embraced
Entranced
Enlaced
Our hands
Our strands
Our harmonic bandsIn mind
We find
Our thoughts
In kind
Apart
We stretch
The other
To fetchIn love
In love
In deep
Complete
Oh, how I’m tangled in you.
Bryson Thomas
-
Simple words carry all the weight.
Not fragile,
Nor vulnerable,
Not teetering,
Nor doomed,
Not hopeless,
Myopic,
Oblivious,
Or shallow,
JustLife.
Us.
Home.
Truth.
Safe.
Happy.
and Love.
Seven words.
For seven years.
For ever.
Bryson Thomas -
Night is when the words visit.
Taunting my mind
In diaphanous cloth.
As cool, heavy sheets
Sing lullabies of safety
To slow my nervous heart.
And coyotes wail their carrion tales
To everyone, in particular.Night is when leaves grow
And dreams flow
And gods file past
With skies in tow
And dew hoards starlight
For the near-dawn show
Night is when scars heal
And lovers reveal
And the world is,
In a word,
Reset.
There is hope here on this earth as yet.Bryson Thomas
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My feet are bellows,
Forcing furnace-fired air
From my instep through my shoes,
Heating socks and venting from cracks
In the black-waxed pair.
The rouge powder dirt
Plumes about tired trees,
White-gum bark flush with rosacea
As sweat pricks at the heat-rash
Playing house above my knees.Across the rail lines
Warped and poorly drawn,
Shimmers dance and locusts crack
From leprechaun places
In the high school lawn.My sagging backpack
Leaching all my resolve,
Its sweaty shroud kneels heavy
On a once-fresh shirt, praying
Pedagogical mass.Year nine in Australia
And it’s 44 centigrade,
At least, that’s what I’ll remember
Getting to class in December,
As finer details fade.Bryson Thomas
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Forgive these reams of empty pages,
You see, my mind is full of blocks,
Poetic lines backed up for ages,
A drawer of single socks.Bryson Thomas
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My mind is a multiverse of parallel thoughts.
I see the forests and every single tree,
And the leaves, grass, needles and buds,
Chlorophylled chaos pressed into newsprint,
Where all the stories lead.
A book of unnumbered pages,
Shuffled ’til they flutter with,
Pigeons in the street,
Shooed by a doorman,
Stood sentry at a revolving doorway,
A carousel of shifting rooms,
Sirens of possibility pulling at my soul.
But now the carousel acts centrifuge.
Concentrating all my focus.
On to one, brilliant slide.
Universes retract.
Galaxies collapse.
A wondrous
Singularity
.
Let
There be
Bright creation!
To split the rumination,
Nascent worlds and systems,
And comets and stars and
Oops! There’s a galaxy,
Oops! There’s some gravity,
Pulling me down to earth,
Circling the sun,
Spinning around a viscous core,
And I take back the mantel,
Of divided attention,
And once again,
Let my mind refract the world,
So I might dance among colourful thoughts.Bryson Thomas
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Frankly, I could do less of more,
So many things,
And what are they for?
Something else I must confess;
I could surely do more,
With more of less.
But doing less of more,
Means less more with less.
You see the source of my distress?
The less I do, the more I stress, but
I’ll figure it out…
More or less.Bryson Thomas
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Some nights, we wade into our comfy couch,
To soak, in front of the box.
You nestle a pillow into my lap,
My fingers twirling your locks.
There’s not much to say,
It’s been a long day,
Filled with computers, and phones,
So there’s no higher brew,
Than sitting with you,
As your warmth gets into my bones.
Bryson Thomas
brysonthomas 