Matchstuck Men & Other Freaking Clever Titles

Just Vague Enough To Work

½ the time my clothes don’t

Even feel comfortable

But I think people will think
I have something.
Just jokes people want anymore.

Jokes & agreement & difference, they want me to seem

Cool.
When I say difference,

I mean difference agreeable

Comfortable.

Fitted, lookin’ sexy, difference.
Difference we can market at social gathering
You’ll be a hoot, you old night owl.

You old wordplay, sell out single.
I ran out of jokes and people got mad

And I got sad

So jokes, no more jokes it all feels so fake

We all say that. I’ve run out of originality.
I ain’t marketable any more

I’m vain, mental masturbating prophet without profit

And money managing skills

And the idea that rhyming will make the poems better.
I can’t even get mad at you for not respecting,

Understanding,

Not making fun of

Me cause I have no clue who I am.
It’s all defined by what I own and what I listen to.
What a sad life.

My death will be shitty at this rate.
I’m trying to be artsy,
I look up things to impress.
But there’s a method to these matchsticks

It’s not just a name I came up with.

*That'll Do, Ego. That'll Do.

Brilliant

I think I’ll be famous.
Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.
I will much dispensary income.
I dream of being rich, you know.
I want nice things, I want access to nice people.

Pretty people for proper pennies.
Has a nice ring to it.
Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.
I haven’t had much attention lately.

No, not much at all.
I will not tolerate such ridicule.
No, sir.
I think I’ll be famous.
Yes, that’ll do quite nicely.
Hmmm…
I want people to understand but think I’m mysterious.
Isn’t that sexy? That’s sexy, I hear.
I’ll write and talk in an accent. Isn’t that sexy?
Pretty people for proper pennies.
I want to lose weight and become a

Pretty person for the proper pennies

And the proper strive

And drive

And ambition

Words that don’t rhyme

Put apply

To the situation.
To be honest

And simple
No that won’t do
That isn’t very sexy, no not at all.
I think I want all the attention

Can you own a spotlight?
I think I want all the attention
I know, but thinking makes you seem like a nicer person

Plus it’s vague and you know how I love that.
That’s sexy, I hear.
Why suffer for my heart when I lie in the lap of luxury?
And forget about my own rules about poetry?

Write lines like essays and write so sloppily.

(Imaginary)

Day dreaming I’m the best at everything

And loved by everyone

Whilst talking to no one

Because my own doubts are more fun

Than a reality of my vanity

On my vanity is mirror

Obviously

It’s a vanity

Insanity

I must suffer for my art.
Because I want to be famous.
and wear nice clothes

And be called a genius

I like nice clothes

Cause then I look nice

Nice neat nice new clothes.
We all must suffer for my art

I must be different so different

Ideally ideals the retreat on opposition

Are best for the position

Of a famous, person yes well liked.
Liked by all the people,

No child left behind
I want people to wish they had a mind like mine.
Yes.
That’ll do nicely.

No Post On Sundays!

FINALLY.
You happy? Because I am.
Yes, I've finally gotten around to changing the design and cleaning some things up around here and catching up on all the pages etc. etc. etc.

It's not the most triumphant return, I really did want to have some new poems for you guys & gals however I haven't written much lately and what I have written is a bit in the rough and not quite ready for posting... plus I didn't really want to write anything for the sake of having new poems because then it's forced and it ain't no good just like my English.
Though I did post a couple new poems and a song just before posting this so things aren't so bad, ya see?

If you're new to the blog then WELCOME! As far you know nothing has changed at all and it's always been like this. You can go on your merry way, galavanting around the pages like a young bull in a candy china shop.

If you're not new than...things are pretty much the same anyway. New look but all the pages and set up is pretty much the same. I tried experimenting with other dynamic views but they were confusing and not user friendly at all.

You might noticed I have deleted some of the posts. If you're wondering where my one little essay on the "Free Arsons" went, I moved it to the 'Other Writing' page and all the songs that were included in that are under the music page. It's all still here so no worries.

In other news; the "Poetry" and "Music" pages are both caught up and are up to date with everything I've written or posted.

In other other news: I would seriously love some feedback on the new design and just the design in general. If the pages or font are hard to read, the pages and set up are all cattywampus, links are working etc. etc. etc. please let me know either in a comment or via twitter or email! (The 'Contact Me' page is also up to date since I have changed my twitter name)


*This is a lot of reading I know but quit whining. You came to poetry and writing blog so...yeah.*

Along the lines of design stuff THE BACKGROUND.
Because I have a very wide screened laptop what I see in the blog and what you see are probably a little bit different. Therefore I would like to know if everything still looks alright on your end. On the background there should be "The House On Ridge Road" text on the left and in the upper right hand corner of the screen is "Writing & Poetry by C.B.".

Please let me know if you can or cannot see these. Now I can't change it for everyone's dimensions but if it's really messed up I'll try and see what I can do.

*GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSPPPPPP*

Seriously, thanks for at least reading this far. You're awesome and thanks for coming to my blog. Please read and be merry. I'll also accept praise along with those criticisms just f.y.i. because I don't want it to be all rain clouds over here.

Thank you muchly. I will be back with more poems and videos hopefully now that everything is sorted out. You're awesome sauce with a cherry on top and as always
Godspeed,
C.B.
                     Here's some shweet music to brighten your night/day:

*Powder Keg: The Musical

My Clothes

Smell of gasoline,
They cover me.
That’s obvious and when I rhyme

I’m thinking of songs

A beat that keeps my mind on one thing

Not you, or the past or my social faux pas

Or the failures in things,

Or the color of eyes and feel of skin

Or I miss it.
Sobering up would be a lot easier

If I had ever even been drunk

Which would be nice if I had no scruples
Can I have those?
Am I allowed while I’m living this life

Where it bothers me if I even have a thought

Of the thoughts that don’t exist that someone might

Have about me or my friends or my hair or my clothes?
Vanity.
I don’t know when I started caring so much about so little.
You know we used to be naked. 

Fodder

I’d rather be somewhere else

Since home is going to be just a firing squad.

Friends turned to enemies

And enemies stay the same.
How to save my mind & friendships with one fell talk?
I can’t be myself anymore.
I plot my escape and return.

When I predict how you’ll react

I play out fantastic nightmares in my own head.
Vanity,

Pride,
something.

Can’t tell if I’ve changed or all of us have.
I wish I could be straight forward.
More honest.
I’ve forgotten what a real friend is.
But I remember how to avoid them.
My anger rises,

Days I think I’m going to lose it

And other days I just think the same quieter.
Stagnant people

Strangling me

With jokes that aren’t funny

Times together when I feel like running

Cause these days we all need to something to aim at

More metaphors? So many, hand me the ipecac.
Cannon fodder for an igniting hatred.

See aren’t we having fun? We are
Now what is my mind doing?
Ruining with this vanity.
(TO BE CONTINUED) 

Taipei Realizations

If fortune is in my favor,

it's stuck in a cookie

in a neon, paper latern scene 

soaked in America, consumed by we.

Common Sense

Thomas Paine

I always forget

how much I hate

The common man.

You're average or rather

Less than.

For someone who wants

to entertain the masses,

a king among men

It sure does hate "people"

People plural are awful,

gross,

bitter cookie cutter,

unique beings.

People are not unique

works of art

Just sloppy finger paintings

by an omniscient

forget-me-not

toddler.

Short & Repeat

I’m So Very, Very Clever Aren’t I?

The poems I write are sad,
So sad and whiney.
It’s because I am sad and I have time.
And no one has stopped me.
No one has yelled at me and said
“EXCUSE ME SIR! BUT YOUR POEMS ARE TERRIBLY DREADFUL.”
How so?
“PATHETIC I MEAN, IT’S A PITY PARTY FOR THREE.”
Me, myself and-
“I, YES NOW YOU SEE. I CAN INSULT YOUR POETRY
BECAUSE I AM YOU AND YOU ARE ME.”
I see,
And the easiest criticisms to swallow are mine
So stop me,
Goddamnit someone stop me,

Stop me,

Stop me,

And promises, of mine even easier to break.
And I’m off track.
And repeating like a broken

Like a broken-

Cliché.
And even saying clichés are cliché is cliché.

I have a few words to say about this album and fun.'s recent booming success... but for another time.

How I Don't End With Me or Not The Why But The How

Here's Looking At You Kid

Why didn’t anyone jump in
like in the movies -

A heroic thing

- Like in the movies

To save me?
I didn’t want to swim back up

It was dirty

And grimy,

Tip toed feet know

I don’t want to keep sinking

Why is everyone on dry land yelling?
Why is everyone on the boat yelling?
Why am I not yelling.
It’s not the why but the how.
How is easy

Land,

Short, definitive
And it stops.
why is the water I’m sinking in

Water is like the thoughts

They don’t move with,

But around you.
How didn’t I swim back up?
Wh-…How do I shift the blame?
How can I move again?
Why don’t I just sink to the bottom.

It’s a calamity chaos,

And oyster, I’m a pearl

Looking for myself in the world that is mine.
Because the world ends with me doesn’t it?
It doesn’t

So that’s how I find out,
How I don’t end with me.
How I will continue with the world.

Some Titles To Chew On or Foreshadowing The Forthcoming

Here are a few of the titles of poems that are either in progress or are going to be started hopefully within the next month or so. I'm excited for a lot of these, they're going to be good but also rather personal then again most of my poems are (Personal, not good, I'm not that cocky)
I know you all have seen me talk about Iron "Lotus" Lung, it's a doozy and it's taking forever and it's already rather long but I need the inspiration and the proper finishing line. That's always the best feeling when you just know that it's the last line of a poem and you finish. Also here's a photo I took and edited. It's of my shadow, I took while my roommate and good friend as well as another good friend and I were filming around our hometown. The first photo is the edited and below that is the original, I took it with my phone so it ain't that good but I like how it turned out anyway. And if you look you can see the pipe in my mouth, I was dressed as a Sea Captain. Yeah....Video to come within the month.
Godspeed,
C.B. 

Stay away from the Mountain

The Summer I Saw A Fox

And the fall that preceded just that.

Shadow Cast By The Lamps

Competence Is My Kryptonite

Strip Poker in The 50’s

Iron "Lotus" Lung

Thomas Paine

Now I'm Walking Along Cause The Night Is Dead.

Exactly my mindset and how I'm feeling right now...
Better than a poem at this point. 

*Clown Cars Would Be Most Efficient

Red Wax Lips

They call me “Danger Tom”,
I’m unpredictable they say
I’m dangerous
A loose cannon
On the my Hot Wheels set.

I write love notes on the back of
Animal Cracker boxes

Buried in the mulch,

Not the good stuff

That hardly cut, gives ya splinters kind.
It’s a bitch.

I finger paint on my palms

And put googley eyes

On fake plastic plants.
My mum gives me Adderall
And my dad bad habits.
I put dresses on those
Green.
Plastic.

Army men.

And melt their guns with a magnifying glass.

If I’m good
I get a sip

A sip ‘ah So-Dee-Pawp.
And if you takes a fistful ‘o

Crayons

You get brown.
Robin’s egg is the prettiest. 

I put stickers on my table so my parents won’t take it away.I wrote my name, and they still haven’t today.

This is a first...A poem jump started by a random tweet I thought of.

Speaking of which I highly suggest you follow me, or not. It's not particularly interesting.
Though I will start tweet when I post new poems, I realized I have hardly been doing that.
And here's a song by a new found artist who I love now, MIKA.                                                                                       

I Haven't Written Any Happy Poems For A Long Time. Now Isn't One of Those Times Either.

And Return To The Well 

A stubborn mule,

My hands, and my head and my heart

Warring, throughout it all

Each wants a chunk of this

Life

Which struggles for it's own turn.

Should hate,

Should run,

Should jump,

Should pull

And I had a reason to not

To not do a lot of things

And you vanished in a puff if smoke

Like my clarity.

So what's stopping me from never waking up?

I imagine it's my dreams.

But oh, here's another problem.

*I Ain't Afraid Of No Oak.

Pollution II: The Great Barrier Reef 

Cut down these trees,

Their overabundance of oxygen

Is blinding me.
To die drowning.
Might be a gorgeous end.
But not in your commercials

I want no cement grave

I want to be buried among

The fish

And the seaweed

And sunken ships.
Because if I wake up

I’ll just swim back to the top.

But it’s harder to wake

When you’re covered in filth
Muddied water so bright

It’s exhausting

It robs you of that night

But trying to catch up just dumps

More

And more

And more

And more on top of you.

We see it’s strange,
What I thought was a clear light

Clean,

To help rid the ugly

Was more trash

But trash that made me happy.
So I thought
“Do I go back to a dumpster,

Just to think it’s the local pool?”
But the question is

Will I be able to still dive in

Remembering what it is.

Hindsight is key in writing

Because the only thing more permanent than pen

(Which isn’t very permanent to begin with)

Are thoughts.
which can be erased rather easily.

Foresight

Bears a fruit,

Which is sweet

But someone stubborn bites of it

Some covered in trash bites into a piece of fruit.
Think of it like this

When a human is starving

And  really starving, not what we call starving

And they have some food, they vomit.
A broken body isn’t used to the sweet.

A broken body shakes the branch

And cuts the arms on thorns that aren’t even there.

Cause c’mon, who’s afraid of a tree? 



The trouble with poetry is that it robs you of a good nights sleep
and you commit to this insomnia before you even accept the writings.
It's a silly thing though.
But here are two poems, but you'll see I lied to posts ago.
There is no Iron "Lotus" Lung yet.
This one is taking some time...Haven't touched it for a while and it won't be 
tonight either. Just be patient, we'll see...
This poem started as just title sitting in my word document where I keep all my other poems finished or not. I wrote the title because I loved it and I knew the rest would come eventually, there are a lot of titles waiting for this as well. Unexpectedly the words came and in a medium I would have never expected, though appreciated.

Godspeed,
C.B.  

*Charlie Brown Syndrome

Charlie Brown Syndrome

If sundowning is for the elderly,

Psychotic or forgetful

Then explain why it is

When it’s dark

And I’m in my bed

I’m completely mental

Right
I’m psychotic

And forgetful

Fretful

Sleep is dangerous

Because I never want to get out

Charlie Brown syndrome

I used to disguise his ugly pout.
Check a mailbox

Valentines

Christ-mas

Birthday

Everyday

Your relentless flow of nothing

Means more to me than before

I realize

Or if I don’t

People forget me.
I wish we still wrote letters

I can blame a shitty postman

And I can blame a shitty good friend

But it’s hard, cause I really know them.
Simple words.

Simple mind.
Simple me.

It has changed.

We have changed.

LOOK.

I know I’m insane

I know I’ve changed for the worst

So I don’t know if what I’m spouting,

If there’s truth in these words.
Because I know a lot of things have died.
And my mind’s everywhere but condolences

At a funeral.
Because my mind wanders at night

When I die it’s just like my life

Attention whore.

WHORE.
WHORE.
I know these
It’s words like these I can avoid

I won’t be clever,
cause I’m a guy.
So now I’ll be blunt about it all.
It feels like I’ve been forgotten.

That’s mostly all. 

Since I Last Saw You I Fell Down The Rabbit Hole

Oak Harbor

The ferry sets off

Your on my mind

Oh how I want to go back in time

And sea you.

Oh ill play with words,

My humor hurts

When your laugh is not heard,

Knots away.

Anchor on my heart.

But maritime puns & setting suns

Will bring me no closer to you.

As the dark crashes,

still young and brash

yet full of hope for you

he’s sent me signs,

time & time

that again I’ll see you.

But as my

Faith

& flesh

Come together.

One will win, other wither.

They say

All you need is love

But those I give

will loathe 

I’ll  live

another day wanting you.

These subtle hints

Shared moments

Oh why must all this rhyme?

But I digress, I want to impress

The one I cannot have.

Distant love song

Friday morning

Church bells ringing

Rays splinter against

Dew,

drops against

My shoes.

There’s a love song in the distance

Pulled the strings and played the notes

On my mind

Am I on yours?

Though I am doubtful

The boys keep on singin’

Do you hear the distant chords?

Our hearts are out there

Behind the dust.

I have lost hope, but not my faith

In you there is who I fell for

And I’ve looked and I know ill never find.

In time I wished for a different tune

But the theory is the same.

Snap of a snare.

She’ll never know,

Good.

Happy Valentines every one* ! 
*In the terms of how many people see this blog "every one" = a few friends and according to the stats some Ukrainians. 


Here are two sort of appropriate poems, though a lot of my poems have to do with love...most not positive... Isn't that sweet? But I digress, It's been a while so I hope to post two more tonight and another song. Hopefully I'll be able finish Iron "Lotus" Lung tonight, that one has been taking forever...longer than any other poem I've written but I've had a couple turn of events that have inspired me. Another one I'll post is called "Epitome of Epiphany", and that will be revised through the journey from my notebook to word document....In any case enjoy your day/afternoon/evening/night.

Godspeed,
C.B.