Skip to main content

A Letter For My Older Brother

Im following the breadcrumbs/
That you set up/
For me to follow instead of/
The path more trodden, who knows where Ill end up/
I guess the/
Only way to find out is to fetch some/
Walking shoes/
And walk with you/
Through the breath of/
Uncertainty, and when I feel left out/
Or let down/
With the course my life is taking/
I remember you saying/
That things are spread out/
To test out/
New opportunities and delve down/
Deep into a fresh wound/
And stretch out/
Cause growth is found in pain/
And this change/
Is good for me, so live great/
And dont go insane/
Trying to control it/
Cause the more that/
You storm in/
Angrily the more moments/
You give up and forfeit/
The torment/
You feel is normal/
But never let the pain border/
On unendurable or torture/
Endure the/
Worst of it but give back/
And with that/
Youd sit brash/
And lay down a sick track/
In that/
Moment I knew you were my brother/
But tragically some of/
These events have thrown us both asunder/
The love that/
Never left me is bundled/
Strong and deep under a sky thats crumbled/
So come home/
I miss you so damn much that it undoes/
The defenses Ive set/
With each stroke of my pen/
Cause when I left/
I couldnt hold all this emotion within/
I was the first you told your secret to/
Believe me you/
Are still my older brother, and Im only complete with you/
I only compete with you/
Lyrically, you taught me this art form/
Complex technique, epic, the shit that Id stop for/
Stalk your/
Shoulder to read your rhyme book, unlock your/
Genius/
And breathe in/
Some of it, its your respect that I fought for/
And I know weve drifted apart/
Living so far/
Away, but I have to tell you my eyes are dripping and dark/
Cause brother, life, this shit is hard/
Im gripping the start/
You gave me in this, praying you read this/
Making believe its/
The key that will make you come back and say that you need us/
Maybe youll see this/
And know that Im not displaying this weakly/
Because its not that, its just that your absence is breaking the pieces/
Of my heart still shakily beating/
Im braced for the creeping/
Realization that youve moved on and Im tasting the grieving/
But if not, know that Ill hastily retreat and/
Brazenly beat these/
Demons back, because through it all youve retained my allegiance/

I love you...

Popular posts from this blog

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years

4 Reasons Why I'll Be A Vagabond In 2 Years As my parole date looms and I prepare to muster out of the service that's cradled me the entirety of my adult life, I face the future with an uneasy trepidation coupled with my characteristic combative nature. I've heard every excuse, tempting me with bonuses and transparent promises regarding where I could live next, to tales of woe and agonizing regret, detailing the life of a miscreant that fleed from the Navy, expecting to flourish in the free world, no longer bound by the constraints of military life. Eager and cherry, they're invariably met with a crippling reality, sprinting head first into a shallow pool of filthy water barely concealing jagged, dangerous rocks and craters. I'll take my chances as I retake the reins of my life, though, even this far out, I know that my path will hardly be traditional, and will probably offend some traditionally and civically min

Outrunning The Reaper

Outrunning The Reaper The concept of aging intimidates me.  I wont say it scares me, because I feel that I've done the very best I can at retarding, delaying, and combatting it.  My training, which in the past prioritized hypertrophy and strength, misapplied in a hilariously misinformed fashion, has altered severely.  When I first got to Hawaii in 2017, I experimented with the idea of adopting EMOM (Every Minute On the Minute) training, a methodology I'd learned from studying Crossfit.  At that point I was doing 5 sets of Freestanding Handstand Pushups a day, with each set's repetitions decreasing incrimentally, following the Recon Ron Pullup Program.  It's available for free online, and a simple Google Image search will allow one to locate the entire workout.  I would sometimes do it twice a day, and before I stopped it, I was doing around 77 Handstand Pushups a session.  Back then I fancied myself a badass for completing such a "large" amount of volume in 1

Candlelight

Candlelight I've often been asked why I haven't written a novel yet, or even a short story on its own, let alone a collection of them.  While I've written enough poetry to fill several reams of factory fresh printer paper, and my prose on this very site could be collected, condensed, and categorized into an efficient little e-book, I simply cant find the motivation to write something that lengthy.  Stephen King once said in an interview that the secret to his prolific literary output was to, simply, write.  He sits at his desk every morning, puts his hands on his keyboard, and let's his fingers dance and twirl until 2000 words are peering back at him from the soft glow of his monitor.  I certainly admire such ardent consistency, and do actually apply it in my private writing, namely my journaling. But when books to be sold for mass consumption and profit are called into question, I suffer the inevitable bout of writer's block that eventually plagues us all so stubbo