Sunday, September 19, 2010


Reclaim the word:


To be a lover of.

An enthusiast of.


When did you become the oxymoron that stands before me,

meant to belittle me.

meant to separate me.

or even shame me.


Reclaim the word:


To be a lover of.

An enthusiast of.


I am your admirer and devoted friend.


You are not my profession

You are my pleasure.


Much more than a past time or a paycheck.


The day I stop loving or even liking you is the day I stopbeing an




©ChristopherF. Brown 2010

Sunday, September 12, 2010

The Past Few Weeks

Eman On
I think I over did the canopy but I still am proud of this

This one, OMG i could not take a good pic of this one for the life of me but today for some reason this one came. Still not the best pic but its post worthy

The Bridge
I really like this one I have to put it somewhere because I keep wanting to do stuff to it.

As always let me know what you think. Good or bad it all helps. Just be constructive

Technorati Tags:

Friday, September 10, 2010

Educated Fool

It’s just times like these that really get to me.

usually when it’s one after another.


I see you in the sparkle of an eye,

the corner of a smile.


I see it in the swagger of their walk

and hear you in the melodic way they talk.


I know it’s you,




At least I think it could be.


And there

right there


is the problem.


I’ve learned not to force or fake you.

It never ends well.


so I wait


Not expectantly.

Not eagerly.

Almost ambivalently.


I’ve really been happy without you.

In contrast to all the hurt I had with you.


It’s just times like these that really get to me.

usually when its one after another.


I see you in the sparkle of an eye

the corner of a smile.


I see it in the swagger of their walk

and hear you in the melodic way they talk.


I know it’s you,




At least I think it could be.


And there

right there


Is the thought that makes my soul shudder.


The same ole thing all over again.


The only thing new is the clothes you wear.

The same blood that poisons me still pumps through your veins.

That was a little too negative so I’ll take it back.


The few times that were good were really good




They never compared

or out weighed

 the bad.


For some reason.

You have this hold on me.

I can’t seem to shake you.


The older I get

The less frequent I even notice you.


It’s just times like these that really get to me.

usually when its one after another.


I see you in the sparkle of an eye.

the corner of a smile.


I see it in the swagger of their walk

and hear you in the melodic way they talk.


I know it’s you,




At least I think it could be.


And there

right there


I question;


How could one search for a thing and never find it?

While others have the very thing rain down upon them as they seek shelter from it.

Others run from you.

Others flat out:



and loathe you.


I do not sit up at night crying over you.





Look for you behind every corner or door


I wish you would have taken this last bag with you.

It hurts to be reminded of you.


The you I never had and always wanted

The you I tried for and never got

The you that lives happily ever after with those whom




your name.

The you that I don’t want to want.


Like I said,

The older I get

the less I even know you are there.


It’s just times like these that really get to me.

usually when its one after another.


I see you in the sparkle of an eye.

The corner of a smile.


I see it in the swagger of their walk

and hear you in the melodic way they talk.


I know it’s you,




At least I think it could be.


And there

right there


I remind myself

it’s the same old hurt called love again


You upset me too much

You take up too much time and energy


Scars and wounds that barely heal are what I have to show of you.


I cover my ears,

close my eyes,

shut my mouth,

and repeat to myself,


“It’s just that same old hurt called love again.

I won’t be bothered with you anymore.”  


I shut the door,

close the window,

and swallow the key,




Just like the tenacious little ant you are.

You always find your way in.



Just maybe.


You’ll do right this time.


It’s just times like these that really get to me.

usually when its one after another.


I see you in the sparkle of an eye

the corner of a smile.


I see it in the swagger of their walk

and hear you in the melodic way they talk.


I know it’s you,




At least I think it could be.


And there

right there


I let you in.


Praying you’ll be different.

Praying that it wasn’t you.

Praying that it was some evil twin.

Praying that my heart has enough strength.

Praying to remember and forget everything from the last time.


I remind myself


I know you


And I wait


Time will reveal all


Once again.


©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Monday, September 6, 2010

Sheep Dog

You’re worse than the people

you think

you are different from.


You see the external forces driving the mentality of the heard.

You strike left.

You strike right.

Whichever is opposite.


You become opposite of the heard

to be different

to be separate




Because it is what you like or even desire.


You rail against one thing one day

another the next.

only  to accept them all when you actually try them.


At least the heard

in their mindless obedience

is true to themselves.


They like what they like

dislike what they don’t.

Even if they are beguiled to do so.




You wait for them


Only then can you make your mind up.

Only then can your feelings speak to you.


Only then can like what they don’t

love what they hate.

Instead of trying to be different just be you.

Instead of following the left or right path make your own


At least then the truly original would respect you

At least then I could look into your soul and see




And not just the inverse, opposite of everyone else

You claim not to be.


©Christopher F. Brown 2010


Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Stranger’s Eyes

You timidly linger

before you pass me by.


Wanting to know the pleasure of your company

you only leave me the slightest

most timid

of glances.


Your eyes say many things

yet your lips only smile.


I would wager your voice beautiful

your  kiss divine.




You timidly linger.


Only leaving,


“What if?”




©Christopher F. Brown 2010


Technorati Tags: ,,,

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Light and Shadow



I see you from different angles.


I wonder if it is light and shadow playing tricks on my eyes

games with my mind




Could  you really be that beautiful.


My ears must lie.


No earthly voice could be so enchanting.


You bewitched my every thought to you


have stolen my ability to dare voice them louder than a whisper.




I see you from different angles.


I question

would the back of your head rest snugly in the palm of my hand

as I draw you near to kiss the lips that beckon me.


I could easily carry you when you tire


If you let me


I could easily protect you while sleep

offer a shoulder for crying

an ear for listening


If you let me.




I see you from different angles


I wonder what it would be like.


If you let me.


©Christopher F. Brown 2010



Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Hand Through the Looking Glass

I see you and know you.


The things your eyes say before you turn away.


I see you and know you

almost as clear as a mirror.


I reach my hand out to grasp yours

as you do mine.


Only time and space stand thinly in-between.


I see you and know you.


I can only compare your eyes to the stars in the night sky

I can only compare your smile to the sun

your laugh to the splash made by a jay in the first puddle of spring.


None of it does you justice


I see you and know you.


©ChristopherF. Brown 2010

Distant Kisses

I look away.


The music in your ears enchants me.


I dare not glance into your pretty chestnut eyes.

You might see what I really want to say.


I can not look upon your luscious full lips.

Technically you are a stranger.


Even though there would be no rejection if I kissed you

I may never stop if I did.




I can not look at you.


I might fall in love


That is something I don't want to do



©Christopher F. Brown 2010


Technorati Tags: ,,,

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Something New


For the past two, going on three weeks now I’ve been painting everyday. I just woke up and said to myself,

“I feel like painting.”

and I haven’t stopped.

Of course these are by no means professional. I gladly and proudly proclaim these amateur. ( Wrote a poem about the word amateur will post latter.)

These are all done in oil, and I am still searching for the perfect spot to take a proper picture that will properly translate what I painted. I have a lot more that I will post latter but for now these are the only pictures of the painting that I feel are acceptable.

ALL FEEDBACK IS WELCOME as long as it is constructive. If you think it sucks, tell me why. If you think its great, tell me why.


I call this one Chaos Kontrol



This  is Man


This is Woman.



This is either: Earth, Life, In-between the shades of Grey, or Shot of happiness. Haven’t made up my mind yet. 



This is High noon in the home land.



This is Monday.  :-)



This is Flesh tones or Shades



I haven’t titled this one yet.



Haven’t titled this one yet.



This is either The void is what you see or The Pessimist



Technorati Tags: ,,

Thursday, July 15, 2010


I’d be remiss if I didn’t warn you.

The path you’re on
I’ve been there too.

The progress you’re making is false.
The movement you feel is not advancement but sinking sand.

You can’t tell because the trees even play tricks on you.

I thought I’d tell you
even though
I know
You won’t believe me.

You cut me,
jumped over
and even stepped on me to get there.

To you

I’m am an enemy,
even maybe a joke

To me

You are another person with a silly smile
sinking slowly in the sand.

I reach out but no matter what
you won’t take my hand.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Technorati Tags: ,,

Response Letter

My life never meant anything to you.

You were:

Too big

Too bad

Too bold

Too important and better than me to see the value of me.

I wish I knew what
My mother
My daughter
were feeling right now.

But I can’t.

My life never meant anything to you.

I know God forgives you.
I pray
one day
the rest will.

What you
and they
saw and see
as worthless
is far beyond priceless.

Wounds that will never heal.
Emotional and mental blemishes that have already become cancerous.

All because

My life never meant anything to you.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Technorati Tags:

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The Deputy

Kill them before they grow.
The voices tell me:

“You’re not good enough.”

“You’re not smart enough.”

“You are not thin enough.”

“YOU are not enough.”

Kill them before they grow.

Sometimes they sound like my own
Sometimes like a friend’s or even family.

The most seductive
most pleasing one says,

“I don’t care.”

Kill them before they grown.

I never said that they only spoke lies.
Often they tell truths I don’t want to hear.

Discerning when the lies became true is difficult.
One must abandon acting out of causality.
they would all become defining.

Kill them before they grown.

Learn to make your own decisions
so you are not led by them.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Tuesday, July 13, 2010


Don’t be confused
or even question your understanding.

What flows from your heart
and stops at your lips
What has been made clear.

Comprehending the divine is not the mind’s purpose.

Understanding with the heart takes time.

What you seek
you’ve already found.

The problem is


want to make sense of it.

Whatever it is
it will be.

I’ll give you a hint.

What you want



©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Friday, June 18, 2010



I feel
I have the mind of a young man

The soul of an old one
the heart of a child.

I keep the door open to learn new things.
Kicking the junk out the back.

Looking out there
I always have a sense of de ja vue.

The red wings and the blue jays
I know them as good friends.
It’s funny though.
I don’t remember seeing them here before.

When I start to laugh
just for no reason
some think it weird or strange,

But the little ones saw.
They smiled and laughed
just as I did.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Technorati Tags: ,,,,,,,

Monday, June 14, 2010

The War Is Over

Loudly proclaiming your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity.


They are all you know.
They have been your bed.
They were the nourishment that sprang from hate’s bosom

They were taught to you by force
They have worked for you out of necessity that later became choice
everyone must follow to the same.

Loudly proclaiming your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity.

You learn the secret your teacher never told.

It did not have to be.

The path you chose was revealed.

Well traveled
Well worn
Well known

Only later
at the end of it all
Was it understood

The hardest
The roughest

At the cliff you
Loudly proclaim your ignorance
while seeking clandestine moments of clarity

©Christopher F. Brown

Friday, June 4, 2010


Capturing a fleeting glance

I wonder.

How did I come to be here?

I question,

“Why me?”

We all think it.
The brave admit it.

“Where did I fail?”


If you look at the now
there are many reasons.

If we go way back when
and talk about those times

Back then

All the right words were said.
All the right things were had.
All the right actions were done.


I am here

With only a fleeting glance.

© Christopher F. Brown 2010

Technorati Tags: ,,,

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Cautionary tale of Contentment

Howling wind does not move me


Raging sea does not shake me

The pit opens beneath me
I remain


Change has no effect on me.
Birth and death are the only I recognize

From my place of strength
I am told of stagnation


From my place of power
I am shown weakness

From the place were
I can not be
and will not be

I realize

I’ve long forgotten about the fall.


© Christopher F. Brown 2010

Smoke & Mirrors


The blight of a conscious mind.

A pox upon a faithful spirit.

able to comprehend
and reason
like nothing else in creation



some say to reason about creation

to ask questions of the creator

is the same
just as kin

as to question the creator.


And that is said to be most horrific of a sins.



We lean not on OUR OWN understanding.
We walk by FAITH and NOT BY SIGHT.

How could we ever get to true understanding if we did not question
the flaws of
and in
and seek higher than it?

Higher than those around us that claim to know.


If told to move
one has to ask



otherwise we remain still.

By faith we ask
By faith we receive
By faith we walk.



not question


is the enemy of faith



not question


opens the door for ignorance and doubt.

Confusion is the dark
Question is the door leading the way
Faith is the answer that brings understanding and revelation.


The light is not blissful ignorance but a faithful knowing
to any question
we receive
a faithful answer

All will be made clear
seek and you will find
knock and the door will be opened


Ask and it will be given to you.

© Christopher F. Brown 2010

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Urban Boy

on wet spring nights

I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.

The aftermath of forgotten rain.

The onset of a slightly odd but gentile fog
puts the world into my everyday perspective

No need for clarification.

on wet spring nights

I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.

You came smell the sent of Eucalyptus,
pine even
clearer than any other time.

Streetlights reflecting on the endless black asphalt
while run off empties into gutters.

they are the closest to a river some will ever know.

As kids we would race bottle caps.
The first to disappear ironically won.

on wet spring nights

I like to go for walks
maybe, sometimes, rides
listening to jazz without my glasses on.

I go in when the song is over.

In spring the rain stops
but you never know
when it decides to rain again.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Waiting for an Old Soul

This place.

Nothing is old.

If there were
it would stick out like a chick from its shell.

This place.

It has a soul
It has a spirit
But it does not speak.

It can not speak
it does not have a voice yet.
It has no story to tell.

This place.

No spirits dwell here.
No great joy,
No humbling sorrow.

These walls have never vibrated from passion filled nights
echoed from early morning fights.
The very ground itself would tear away that which is too weak.

This place.

Nothing is old.

If anything was you would have to listen.
You would have no choice but to hear.
It would scream so softly only your soul could perceive.

This place.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Technorati Tags: ,,,

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Shadows Mumbling in the Fog

Have you ever felt like
you woke up
and were surrounded by fog?

In that fog
you saw shadows of things and people
and heard sounds the same,
but when you reached out,
to touch,
to feel,
you could not.

When you strained to listen
because you could only hear,
you still could not comprehend.

How do you relate to a shadow?

How do you explain sounds unclear?

I think it would make you question yours
and the definition of
Just to make sure you and it matched.

I think it would make you question
maybe you were the shadow.
But then it would be up to you to determine true or faux.
Asking a shadow that you can’t hear if you are the same does not make sense.

Maybe they are surrounded by the same fog,
maybe the same mist.

To them
you are the mumbling shadow;
you might not really exist.

Have you ever felt like you understood


©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Technorati Tags:

Tuesday, May 4, 2010


In spite of present pain
future frustration

Do you still smile?

In the face of Danger
And that which would bring desolation
Do you laugh
maybe even dance?

In the midst of chaos
Corruption and confusion

Do you remain
Calm, cool and collective?

When it presses upon your back
To the point near break

When it stands at the very gates of your soul
Ready to capture your mind
claim your body as it’s very own

Do you not fear?

Knowing to whom the temple truly belongs.

When everything is gone
Time has pulled away
The same as the ocean pulls the sand

Will you know who you are?
Will you understand who I am?

You are my sons and daughters

The blood that flows in your veins
The blood that freed every captive
Made clean every stain
is the very same blood that warms your body
And opens your mouth to sing

It is my blood that is in you

It commands you to dance
Especially in the rain.


© Christopher F. Brown 2010

Technorati Tags: ,,,,

Thrown out the window

I’ve spent many years learning the rules
only for you to come along and confuse them.

Experience has shown me
the words you say
the things you do
all point to one
but somehow
you add up and factor out as two.

I differ to the rules,
remember what I learned in doing but still
there is no mention
no chapter
not even a footnote on you.

Maybe I just live in a world set by rules only I live by.

It could be that you have poked a hole in my box
and my thoughts are escaping.

Whatever it is

I don’t understand this thing.

I don’t understand you.

©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Technorati Tags: ,,

Contemplating God or Anthill

I know this might sound silly
Coming from us what really doesn’t.

The other day an ant crawled across my finger tip

I lifted it up to a place where I could better see it.

As its little antenna’s moved back and forth I wondered
Could its microscopic mind comprehend me?

For all of its social skills
For all of its building talents
A mere ant and all of anthood is nothing
in comparison
To man and all of manhood

I watched it move
From fingertip to fingertip
In comparison
it would be like me
Moving from mountain top
to mountain top

I wonder

With all we think we know
Can we
Could we
Would we

Ever be able to fully
Comprehend you?

©Christopher F. Brown 2010


Emanating from the speakers

waltzing with air, around it spins for a moment

then to lay at rest in my ear.


It’s dreams passes through my heart and lungs as heavy smoke

finding my soul it deeply impresses.


Lingering long enough for me to be intrigued

lasting long enough for me to more than hear but listen

accompanying my soul if only long enough for it to smile.


When realization sets in

when understanding of what’s happening,

when what’s going on takes full hold.


The song is over.

Melodious has gone

the mood has passed.


It is time for a new song.


©Christopher F. Brown 2009

Technorati Tags: ,,


Darkness retreats to the background in your presence

Becoming canvas for whatever you desire



This cold night


From high above

you glow

If I could reach

I’m sure You would be the warmth I’m seeking



This cold night


A light mist falls in front of you

Extending your reach

Dancing and bending

Your rays reach down to me

Amongst And Between

The dark



This cold night


Shadows in valleys collect in mass against you

Against the thought of you

Against even a rumor of the thought of you



This cold night


Your light shines on and through me

What they do

Can not stand in your path



This cold night


I have no thought of fear

No feeling of shame.


©Christopher F Brown 2010

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Suicide Letter of an Empath

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it all.

Standing firm when the grass looks like it would be so comfortable.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it all.

If they knew that I felt their anxiety the same
Felt their pain the same
See their unease as clearly as I see my own.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it all

Would you fain uncertainty and force your smile if you knew I knew?

The raven flies high in one world
even though those closest to him in another try to clip his wings.

The man in the boat
In the middle of the flood
Sticks his hand out to save the drowning strangers.
Instead of getting in the boat they all pull him out to drown with them

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it all

If you truly knew
I feel as you feel
As if it was and the same as my own.

If you knew my heart aches as yours
My anger rises as yours
My delight is ecstatic as yours

My soul cries with yours
as your shining, happy, lying face spins its tale.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it all

When I know how deeply
How truthfully
How intensely
They will never understand

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it all.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Thursday, March 25, 2010

For A Reason

You ask me

Why did I love them?

Defensively I turn
and ask
and how
do you define love?

The entire Webster’s dictionary could be its thesaurus.
With the exception of hate.

I’ve come to a point in my life where
is debatable.

There is no one
particular example
At the same time
there is an abundance of small
little things.

In comparison
They would amount to a falling cherry blossom pedal.
they turn the ground pink
Unable to see what it was before

I guess that makes my previous statement a lie
at most
An oxymoron
at least

Even in that
is the true nature of love.
At least how I’ve come to know it

Trust me

I really am trying to answer the question.
I can’t explain why I loved them.
Even with all the words I know
love runs too deeply
Just as π continues endlessly.

I would need a life time just to began
You could say that is why I don’t love them anymore.

and time
are too precious to me to waste.

Especially to waste on someone
Who won’t take the time to open the door.

© Christopher F. Brown 2010

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Have you met me

You and I know
They are not your friends.
They are your competition
as is the rest of the world

It’s almost not your fault.

Like the man in black said,
You were taught to shoot or be shot
all before you could shave

The ones closest to you
They are only there because they amuse you.
At the very least
they pose not threat

I know you.

I use to see you in the mirror everyday
When I thought
and believed
life was a battle

One day
I was shown that it was truly
A gift

The only true competition I ever had
won long ago’
Only because I did not know
I was in a battle with them.

One day
I looked in the mirror and saw
the one I was
Was not who I am.

One day
I saw me.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010


I didn’t turn my back on you
You showed me your true face

I came close enough to see it was a mask

The closer I came
I saw maggots
Coming from underneath it
Falling down to the ground

I saw the smile you painted on it

Where the eyes should be
there were only dark
and possibly endless

There’s a stench which
can’t be hidden so well

I know it’s a mask

So why are you mad at me
for saying so?

© Christopher F. Brown 2010



In my presence
do you brandish your teeth
spread your tail feathers


Do you feel the need
to compete
and compare


By measuring me
or someway
could or would explain
something about you

Is the only way you know to feel tall
is by cutting off the heads of those around you

Is the definition of your strength
only comprehended in the weakness of others
(as you see them to be)

You only win
that someone else might lose
Because you just love the game

If you can not compete
If you can not win
If you think the threat too great

You belittle the whole thing
You say it was nothing
You say it never really meant anything anyway
You define its worth
You have set it as less

You can only be “THE”
Never just “A”

Its all part of being a man
Is what you think

How would you know?

In the production you call manhood
The role of manliest man
The one whose blood and sweat is unfiltered machismo
Is rehearsed daily
By a Small

© Christopher F. Brown 2010

Eagle Amongst Swans


Did I follow your will
or did I ask you to bless mine?

Have I been seeking and betting on your divine insurance
to cover the choices I’ve made
or have I merely taken comfort
in the divinely insured choices you have made
for my life?

Is it some trial
which gives reason to the constant discomfort
in this new place?

Was it that I asked you to follow me here
Instead of listening
And going
When you told me to go there?

The devil has no:
Or scheme
That is
Or ever will be
Than the blood,
Your blood
That I’m covered in

I’ve even spit on the devils name
Laughed in his face
And to add insult to injury
Danced when it rains

I knew
With your help
Nothing that will ever come my way
Will ever be more that I can bear.

Why is it that they claim the warmth of your love
But the truth of their touch is as cold as the dead?
The gift you gave me
That lets me see their hearts bursting
And over flowing with love
Is also the gift that confuses me.

That gift you gave me
Shows me that
Towards me
The overflow
The explosion
Not even a drop do I receive


Did I come and do what you intended
Or was this never supposed to be

Your plan
And love
Is what I seek

This place that I’m in
These people I’m around
We all claim your name

Why do I feel uncomfort?

In the midst of them
Do I feel you are my only friend?

In their company
Do I feel as strange
More awkward and out of place
As an eagle amongst swans?

We are all your children
We all love you
So why do I feel like the redheaded one
Not allowed to share
And said to be equal the same
But still alone.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Thursday, March 11, 2010

I wont complain

I won’t complain about how…

Nope, see that right there is the trick.

That’s the preverbal carrot on the stick.

Telling you what it is that I won’t complain about is just the backdoor.
The patio entrance.
The initial inhale before the sneeze.

I release them.
Into the sea and to be forgotten.

I tell them to take their:
headaches, Backaches, upset stomachs,
and any other physical manifestations that meditative worry brings.

I won’t complain

A pastor once told me that it was speaking the devil’s language.

I’ll take it one step further and say that it prayer directed to him.

Negating every positive thing that
Could happen
Would happen
Or was about to happen.

Nope, I won’t complain.

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Cherry blossom/Sakura

Cherry blossom

In the season of desolation
In the time of less

You not only survive
where others would unquestionably

You demonstrate and parade
Pinks so subtle
Reds and burgundies so deep

As if to make the grey sky
And white ground jealous

You remind us of the time passed
You remind us to hope for the future.

Cherry blossom

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

The Comforter

If I let you into my mind
Would you understand
Would you even try?

On my walks
Late night
And or
Early morning
God is at my right hand
And my left

After the pleasantries are over
The lip services are done
All the conversations that stop when I enter the room

God is still there telling me I’m ok.

Maybe I’m just meant to walk with him.
I know that if anyone understands
He does.

The uncomfortable vibes
The shallow looks

God is right there when I say,

“did you see that?”

He tells me not to worry,
He is there with me
And he always will be.

In the end
I know
With whom
And where
I belong

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

The Bridge

The Bridge

Sea and Rock
form wave
creating and Destroying

Sun breaks through cloud
Cloud covers the sun
creating shades of Gray.

Like the shore birds
we make haste
pedaling our feet in one world
all the while
on the top of another

Beneath the surface
life continues

Wherever there is a Bridge
We begin to see

©Christopher F. Brown 2010

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Walking Weirdo

Why is it so

When I walk down the street
with a frown on my face

you grab your bag a little tighter

Your eyes tell.

They say how you want to cross to the otherside.

Your eyes tell.

They say how you silently pray that I might
so you dont have to.

Holding your breath
you dont cross
you dont even blink

You pass me by without saying a word.
Society says that if you did
If you admitted to it
If you confessed your fear
Then infact
are one of the bad people

Why is it so

When I walk down the street
with a smile on my face
you grab your bag a little tighter

Your eyes tell.

They say how you think it is weird
somewhat even strange.

Society stipulates that
a person who smiles when not watching TV
Not listening to something funny
or smiling outside any of the prescribed
and detailed rules
must be crazy

In our politically correct
and highly existential society

Where the true intellectuals have the answers
(and have had them since birth)
to all the worlds problems.

Only their:
and literature (and anything else they like)
are worthy to even be called such

In our society where complaints and sarcasm
replace prayer and praise
backbiting is common place
temper tantrums after the age of five is completely acceptable
lashing out at someone for something they had nothing to do with
simply because
they were there
is very ok

In our society where there is no belief in any God or Gods
and if there was any
we as humans are self-sufficient enough now
to not have any
of him, her, or them

Our society says
Only a crazy weirdo
smiles at you for no reason.
Most likely because they are about to do something
something crazy and weird

Why is it so

because your eyes do infact tell

you very much think

Im the weirdo

Creative Commons License
Walking Weirdo by Christopher F. Brown is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at

Bad Friend

I am not what you thought I was.
Nor will I ever succumb to what you think I should be.

I define me.

Every stroke
Every letter
Every word

You laugh and call me crazy
when I dance and sing.

Life is beautiful if you let it be.

You hate me
You call me a bad friend.

All because I wont entertain your misery
With the same.

Creative Commons License
Bad Friend by Christopher F. Brown is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Words left behind

Words left behind
are what I hope to bring.

Maybe it will be my legacy.

Maybe it is my arrogant conceit.

Whatever it is
Whatever it will be

It is what is now
I can not help but do.

I've gone from hiding them in the dark damp mold
shoving them in the face of anyone that dared to turn eye and look

Long after I'm dead and gone
(and maybe even, but hopefully not forgotten)

Loving the lavish grasp that is my fathers arms

I wont think of the words that were left behind.

I will have long forgotten the hope they were to bring.

Christopher F. Brown 2010
Blog Widget by LinkWithin

Pen to Paper & Finger to Key © 2008. Design by: Pocket