Nameless Names

Nameless Names
By: Bryan Olson

This shadow reflects like sunlight on glass, the path that has opened up.
To defile such a wondrous gift dismisses the pure mist of emotion,
The sound penetrating curiosity only furthers my indulgence in the unknown.
Ever fleeting, perpetually moving, and constantly agitating my understanding of now.

Maps of a barren wasteland are all that I find,
Ghosts now lead the way to water.
Nameless names are given,
For I do not understand what I see.

Glowing flies in the darkness guide a path to destiny.
Grasping my stick of ash I aimlessly hunt for salvation,
Finding only the blossoming anguish of my endeavors.
Hope only rests in the eye of the dredges, below the surface of understanding.

Diamonds

Diamonds
By: Bryan Olson

How the diamonds connect,
They dance with mine.
In an ancient ballroom they sway to a waltz only our eyes know,
To a song that only plays when her gaze is fixed with my own.

Her half blinded sight moves me with a unique calm,
It stirs thought of what cannot be seen,
Beneath the shadows that reflect on her face,
And the color of earth that swims in her skin.

My pulse races with each meeting,
Her very touch,
I’m sure,
Will elevate me to a world not yet explored.

As we dance in my mind under the twin moonlight,
I feel the spark of her touch,
Her diamonds match mine,
With a quiet furry, they stay connected until dawn.

Lucky Thanks

Lucky Thanks
By: Bryan Olson

Hold on to your virtue, hold on tight.
When the thunder of a thousand storms comes crashing down upon you,
The stars will accept your lucky thanks.

That immediate feeling of peace is only felt for a moment.
With the absence of your righteous war,
You only find lost causes that leave you running around in circles.
How's that for karma?

Idle Hands

Idle Hands
By: Bryan Olson

These idle hands write in solitude and dream of a voice to sing.
Temptation lingers in the realms of bliss that cloud my vision.

Wandering on the tips of my toes as I wonder.
I fly through the world I envision, in the most magnificent way one can.

Smiling in the darkness is my only option, as my lighter is dry and matches wet.
Hoping that after years of smoking I still have a faint sparkle in my smile.

Wishing to show you what I see in the red glow that the moon has blessed me with tonight.
I motion for you.

Caverns of Gray

Caverns of Gray
By: Bryan Olson

Confusions fill a hollow core,
The shelter has been compromised.
There is a faint reminder left behind,
It has been tossed to the wolves like a poisoned carcass.

Books once held wisdom,
Now currently filled with mystic crayonic messages.
Essays written by children,
Revealing thoughts of ponies and dragons.

Seen in the strange faces passing day after day,
Felt in the sting of my side,
Tasted in the cancer between fingers,
Smelt in the liquid that passes lips,
Heard in the rings of Saturn.

Tiny dancers shine above a foreign essence.
The mites that speak purity into my soul,
Call home to the caverns of gray between my skin.

A List Of Nothing In Particular

A List Of Nothing In Particular
By: Bryan Olson

Faint warmth.
Crunching earth mixed with salt.
Forgotten wood – vacant.
The clicking of heals and the chirp of a voice.
A lone ranger on a quest.
Brick and stone.
Ice melting, giving birth to that magical sound of falling.
Conversations of life.
An overflow of knowledge – books.
Artists in a hallway.
The hum of a pop machine whispering its secrets.
Conversations this time of frustration – two – one on one.
Procrastination in blue.
Empty – hollow.
Punk-rocker.
Again the artists bleed their craft.
Comforting cool.
Footprints in snow.
Condensation dripping oceans.
Rusty rails and garbage pails.
Trees.
The scent of food – I am hungry.
Laughter.
Seclusion in groups.
Stairs to power.
Sadness.
Units to extinguish fire.
My bag.

Cycles

Cycles
By: Bryan Olson

This fractured liquid.
A life in chaotic change.
Now drips in warm hands.

Vixen

Vixen
By: Bryan Olson

Fountains of destruction erupt around me,
But I stay steadfast,
I keep moving.

My lips continue to taste ancient maps,
Stepping softly,
where the pools of light hide,
Ever closer to that lone X that lies between the sands of time.

Still, I cannot help but chase the vixen that hides in the corner of my glass.
Sitting there,
just to the right of flowering righteousness.

They’ll find me drowning in my sleep,
My words,
nothing but pure water spilling forth,
Vast in its contradiction; that life I have been whiteness to.

A truth you could never unveil,
Love forever,
less than an inch out of your grasp.

Chinatown Love

Chinatown Love
By: Bryan Olson

this ever flowing torrent produces a stream of clouds
so crystal in its presence, that gods turn away.
diving in i feel the tingle of a thousand caterpillars encasing this temple.
moving through the mist i feel new,
yet i possess the understanding of a calf.
i will be someone’s main course.
such a gift though,
(to be held so high above the ground)
oh the things i will see,
when devoured by another.

Yellow

Yellow
By: Bryan Olson

the only one that counts,
is the one that can't.
silent motives flow through these moves,
silent, for that is how it must ever be.
this secret longing until eternity.
too many, yet not enough.
umbrellas cannot shield me from this flow.
and so I hope and pray for tomorrow.

The 5th

The 5th
By: Bryan Olson

The way the moonlight would creep in and awaken me,
Just so I could look over and see the gift lying beside me.
The way the sun would leave reminders, not to take him lightly.
The way the seasons changed, to show that it was real.

Moments that lasted until dawn,
Were over before I knew.
A swing-set that held secret worries,
And a dress that concealed a beautiful world
Waiting to be explored.

The countless nights I have sat awake before her love,
Yearning for the touch of an angel,
And for the words that were breathed into my life,
(oh, how long I had waited to taste them)
To be real.

A voice that let out an unspeakable harm,
Has taken away all I had,
(all I ever wanted)
In only a
Few.
Brief..
Seconds...

The moon no longer wakes me,
The sun now only blinds me,
And the seasons,
(what I had looked forward to the most)
Taunt my every step with the cold dead winter.

How bright my life once was,
Now just a shimmer shines through.
A reminder stuck in stone,
To never forget what my windows show me.

How foolish I was,
To let flagrant deceptions,
Touch my honest heart.

Curio

Curio
By: Bryan Olson

contagious contaminants conjuring celestial concepts,
continually curing controlled conquests.
creating chaos causing cerebral contusions,
callously counting catatonic cathartic convulsions.

Posting soon.

I will be posting very soon. I am looking over old journals of mine and getting inspired again.