an ending to
the having to die
in order to start over, anew

the never ending confusion, "bleed through"
what it means, our "we",
does it mean more to me,
than it did, does to you?

tell me to fuck off,
or stay
but stop it, us
these "closer, go away",
"too close, you got to, the real me", games

all of us,
we are to blame
heads should, yes, be hung, in shame
for that which we behold, then betray
technology tidbits instead of vulnerability, slain

friends are humans, too, underneath
naked hope, noble, underneath all the sheets
all the photos and "easy bake oven" nods, grabs
can never be enough for what we lack, don't have

the "love struck" attention, all the magic we are missin'
so said the babe,
"it all comes out in the kissin'"

not me, the one he was remarking, that for
but that kinda shit, sweet
I'm a whore for, adore

anything, rare
with soul, with passion
with heart, god damn it
where is it anymore?
tick, that tock, ever faster, time passing

as we hide and hurt, distract our lives away
fucking miracle,
someone standing before you
arms outstretched, lets walk together
let's play

let's sit and talk and fuck our phones
and, not phone sex,
cheap wad shot moans

I've done all that
and it did me in
rode the train to hell,
for the "feel something", not skin

but you know what killed me,
undone, in the end?
the unexpected, unfathomable "sweet"
in the never saw it coming, "him"

so call me obsessed
with the heart, yes i am
it's rare, lasting connection now
world of "grab n go", starve, but for "thankful", "eat spam"

world of words, tossed off, too easy
world of "take this", numb it out,
feel the terror, when queasy

over anything that makes one
look deep, in themselves
i've took that train, called
straight into hell

but what, the point,
if there be found, fostered,
no heaven
yeah, i got fondled and "did"
by age seven

but so what, so many,
this happened to, sadly
why, jesus christ, do you think
i seek, give love, a little light
to the point of "madly"

because it matters
what we say and do
because i know how it feels
tattooed forehead marked, inked
"born to be screwed"

so i never want to be
all the horrid shit I've experienced, seen
i just want to care, the few, left, any
whose eyes have that
"not meant to be here either", glow, gleam

land of nothing is, as nothing seems
i want to die, as "fucked up", but humanly possible, clean

owning my shit
and genuinely saying, I'm sorry
for the wounds, warped, within
that cause schizo expressionistic
gushings, spun, starry

eyed head,
black and blue eyes, mislead
and confused, times ten
so "the inward" bleeds outward
and it's back to square one
again and again

how the heaven to navigate
the "me", loving "you"
and whether any of "this"
means anything at all

our minds, overtaxed
filling in the blanks
what it means now,
when few, can barely handle a call

on that damn thing now,
we, "the all", in all of us, inescapably addicted to,
beyond cocaine
or crack, private parts
so, in secret code, known by "the suck" or "the blew"

at least that addiction included
physical contact, in real
but even that, ever more
just a wasted reality for the
"black hole feed", feel

its just more, more, more
and more, for "the same"
and deflect, disavow and don't ever take blame

we need a "courage transfusion"
said the goddess leah
"can we invent that", infusion
amongst all the mundane and the constant information intrusion

yes, gorgeous, beautiful,
let's give it a name
one that doesn't need a point, as in the overused, "exclaim"

it's called "stand up"
and be a human,
woman or man
be willing to risk, reach out
for the hand

that comes not to bite,
back stab or betray

but the one
that just loves you, god forbid, without stray
all your flaws, fears, fractures, "fires",
that make you so beautiful,
pure, the want, gift, just stay

as in stick around
and just adore you, in full
knowing without you, life, not the same
sad and dull

its in the electric
that cannot be charged, "usb"
the one called "human magic"
that can, does exist
in the invisible "cord of kind, one of", bond
you and me

see?
it lives and dies, "give, receive"
and all it takes is a little effort
to keep it watered,

and a little risk

for the reward,
breathed, "believe"

this "thing" called "ours"
a safe haven away from all the bullshit, sweet reprieve

it is, and was, quite real and beautiful, all along

for the man that inspired a new meaning, becoming, in "stand strong"

(for all the things misunderstood, in silence,
and overthinking, then speaking,
may the wounds, they mend, made right, then, when wrong)



bowen hart roselli
26 may 2020
ringwald love

wars everywhere.

man vs woman
gay vs straight
black vs white
left vs right
technology vs nature

the social media obsessed,
phone-fried, head down
never looking up, or around
selfie-soaked to oblivion,
drowned

"family with kids", consumed
that's their whole identity, doomed

and the ones like me
by their loneliness, groomed

outsiders, outcasts
freaks, so forced to the strangulation
"the masks"

in a world where little, of substance,
soul, lasts

to wake up and breathe here,
the most heroic of tasks...

don't call me anything
just call me human.

I pledge my allegiance
to know one, eight then

their beings, like god, send
yes, we, the beauty betrayed,
last whisper, (a secret)
in them, I still believe
there's a heaven.

(of love).


be it "train wreck and tragedy"
touched, somewhere, still alive,
they see

things with wisdom, and  sight,
as they are
you'd call them friends,
I call them stars

wars and wars and wars
again.
"the normals" crave bullshit
like the sanctimonious crave sin

rich vs poor
less vs more
credit vs cash
my heart vs my ass

one throbs, the other sobs
rarely in unison
older, and worn,
I should be at peace
that there is nothing left to prove, then

but with all this war
and all this crazy
my "tism" is prone
to monosyllabic "mazing"

just want to walk
and never stop walking
away from all the meaningless talking
away from all the "this vs that"

but then heaven, with him
just enraptured, we sat

and communed
cajoled
and left behind
all the roles

skinless and soul sexed
I saw a new mutation
of a passion, perplexed

that unbeknownst to me
there could be found, his kind
of one that I have never seen

one that I have never known.
somehow, in his presence
I feel realized, and not, in the least,
alone

I guess that's what others mean,
when they say that thing,
"I feel at home"

just the want to stay,
not run, not roam

some wars
inside
have hidden healings,
(feelings)

intoned.

(I dare not dream, but I do, just the same)

for a love,
unlabeled
unleashed,

hear my name.

(in the hum of your heartbeat, in the search, your "someone", your "same")

you came.
so did I.
no need to worry or question
or "why?"

just pray, like thunder
and shine, like rain

may he one day "come to"
and see, here, in one, we
our two.

twins.

can't fuck.
but can we finally turn,
alter the course of "the damned",
bent, "bad luck"

maybe,
maybe not
no game, this flower pluck,
garbage, "he loves me, loves me not"

some things just are,
take the chance
or fester, the scar

recognize your kind
or risk the ruin, the light, left behind
a light that's diminishing
day after day

the endless bitching and moaning,
from chosen corners,
coveted, victims
"look at me, us, our pain"

we've all got it
in different forms, called
"societal norms"

trapped and crapped
and tricked and dicked

for every asshole
there's a conniving bitch

so back to "distance, social",
survive

but in him
I felt
the want, impassioned,
cultivate, "thrive"

it begins and ends
those god dreamed eyes
where sweet meets sadness
woe meets wise

electric
non-expectant
just here
and there
and everywhere

no wonder, he afraid
my intense and focused,
ever-present stare

the one that speaks
"I am really here",
unlike all the others,
they, the "all talk", me, the endeared

wars
once more
and the battle
scarred,
"come, oblivion", wish

tell me,
whose twin
would you die
their arms, to be devoured in,
kiss,

live.
again.

the gorgeous,
unexpected.
soul drowning,
ever confounding.

(him).

twin.

brother, of the war
"our within".


bowen hart roselli
21 march 2020
ringwald love

instead of serving a man,
I'm serving a purpose

please let me know
if the "misunderstand",
in my destruction, of self, was worth this

misconstrued, beliefs
that if I ripped out my heart
handed it to you, me, every part
you would somehow see me
with love, so the start

of climbing rocks
not "black and blocks"*
as in another transient
"meant nothing" experience
that i must black out, erase
quite clear, in this

those rocks i climbed
to reach your heights
once you had me in your sights

were nothing more
than a means to an end
the work required,
build your ego, then send

tumbling down,
then back up again
same old game, different body part
and when

you were done
i was just another one
nothing to do, with the inside, me
like the blind, ask, then
what it is they can't see

my fault, always
fixated on fires
in fractured hallways
putting words to thoughts
and beliefs to illusions
vision, it becomes the crippling intrusion

just a side effect, sometimes
me, living in a dream
ceiling stares, sighing,
"I'll do anything, if you believe and forgive me, this time"

meanwhile, you've moved on
hit the gas,
on the pedal,
rearview mirror, looking past

any reflection,
remembrance of me
as in, "it had nothing to do with"
but in this way, not a good thing

this is exactly what it means
my "disposable and pose-able"
like a fleshlight, with a built in glowable
as unnecessary, after the fact
just, i, the dumbshit, not in on the act

that filters, broken
misperceive words spoken
as actually meaning,
something more than they do,
label me "had", then disposed of,
when through

side effects, sometimes
they can show you what's true
but only if, you the strength,
look anew

at realities beyond
your limited scope, mind
very few and little here,
are very ever that pure and kind

as to not be operating
from feared "motives, ulterior"
we obliterate the inside,
for the objectified exterior

i happen to be, one who gives as to live
makes me feel like i'm shining, when sharing
all that i have, for the few, worth the daring
gifts offered, are given soul free
it's not about expecting something in return
it's about seeing a soul, then touched,
in a land where most don't do these things very much

most words spoken,
forgotten, once said

and to have any kind
of memory now
means,
"best do research on the lobotomized head"

as in how to get one,
in order to survive
this, not a place
where "the soft men", survive

so harden up,
and not in cock
learn to steer clear
of climbing those rocks

for any man or being, at hand
that needs elevation,
"false god", inflation
sole purpose, steal your soul, for theirs
an act of power, because they sensed they could,
wanting you left then, knowing, feeling
you are less than worthless, think "hollowed out wood"

side effect, sometimes

wisdom, for wanting

in your splitting, tormenting, you've earned this

but for the longing of lips, kissed,
love and lust, trust,
the lesson, you, will never, learn this

that long ago "upon a star", i felt him, sensed him, in shadow, his "call"
and since then i've "done it" and saw, i thought, all
until i experienced him, slowly, and found a new kind of "fall"

(for, apart, the "in", before love)

as the desire to believe, in love give and recieve
now matter how "bizarre" or broken, unspoken, it's form
is the mountain i will forever reach for, climb
vision embedded within, someway, somehow,
he is out there waiting, i've met him, speaking in silence, "be mine"



bowen hart roselli
3 april 2020
ringwald love


*the "black and block" teqhnique is something taught to me by a brilliant friend, i refer to as "Xackati"

the man who burns his bridges with fire
puzzled, his pieces
whom, "the loved", died, admired

doesn't do anything by half
or by thick
look deep within, you will see
little skin

on his surface, his shine
his maze, man made mind
a man who thinks, for himself
watch, his ways
he will capture, then catch you
melt, his mark, as he strays

back and forth, then bolts,
like a colt
blinds you, by "wayside"
what you feel, that's a jolt

that startles and stuns
disorientates, the heat of his gun
as he penetrates, then propagates
the need to run, his place in the sun

haunts you, his presence
as if, he, heart bled
just might've been, the only one

you'd ever met, called "cannot forget"
no matter all the maneuvers
you tried
somehow, in the soak in, his eyes,
you found, in the afterward, yes, you had died

just in the way
he might've wanted you to
subconsciously so,
this man, with everything and nothing
to prove

still, as the night
warm breeze and wind,
the gods favorite height

peaceful and passion filled
his throbbing heart, chest
safe then, at rest,
sewed, the necessity of "nest"

of which to feel, surrounded,
in angels
then switched, the scene,
his "dangerous", change angles

swiftly, disarmingly
thunder, lightning strikes,
alarming, he

alerting you
he will not be caged
so spills forth, his rapturous rage

somehow, some sway
inside of him, searching
for someone, "something"
worth, his secret, wants, cherished, saved

in a place, no one can touch
while he, so touchingly drips
his blood, in slow, demanding, droplets,
as he, commands, unspoken
one, in silence, reach for and clutch

his delicate soul,
heart riddled, with holes
from bullets, or, etched arrows, so shot
by hero's and heroines
all the remembrances that must not
be forgot

and so he burns his bridges,
with fire
called to some place
that hearkens of "higher"

elevations,
like mountains
and trails
he walks, then he rests
at cliffs edge, finds "no fail"

inside of him, he is at home
and at peace

the man who burns his bridges
with fire
something inside, "needing out",
rain, released

upon , "the within"
things, that no longer are him
pulled by so many forces, apart
in longing for "safe, stay"
he leaves behind those
that can't keep his ways

understood
or impact, his scatter
just let be
in his time, feel the
matters

out, and work, inside himself
empty his well springs,
replenish, and rectify
his warring wants, wealth

not measured by
the means of "the many"
finished, fed up, by "the plays"
of the plenty

the man who burns his bridges
with fire

puts the "one", after that
which is prefaced by the "unlike" in "any"

as in, not like anyone
you've ever met

the man who burns his bridges
with fire

the soul definition of
"cannot shake him"

forget.


bowen hart roselli
3 april 2020
ringwald love

entertaining new awakenings,
passenger windows of pathways,
in the headlights, coming..

maybe
I'm not
as crazy as I think
learning to sit still,
hard work.
recognize, this here, all, but a blink

amongst the proverbial
ever present eye
all the chatter, the fear
that keeps me stuck,
the longing, deep inside

we are all, I guess,
warriors
of our own minds
seeking some softness,
amongst all the concrete, unforgiving
unkind

back to nature
focus, trees
release all the longings
I so wanted, the you
I found, so alive here,
in me

all the passion, pouring out
all the things I realize
the most important, I'm without
a real sense of belonging
and some exquisite soul, to give
god damn, I want, and wanted it, be you
but you've got your own ghosts,
your own seeking, of truth

we met, we found,
whatever this was
but I cannot force, or convince
you, "this", a strange kind of love

yes, I know, for me, it's true
and found myself, your labyrinth
engulfed, absorbing your electric hues
things I so, look up, admire, in you
your sense of fire, and freedom
and "the done", when you're through

adamant, obstinate
mercurial, maybe "mad"
so much revealed, when guard down
deep eyes, sad

I saw it early,
and you said you felt blessed
by whatever force
that brought me, to sit by you, next

evolution, evolved
to the place we're now at,
it all happened naturally
no preconceived plan
or equation, "expect"

just day in, day out
I experienced you
"in the drivers seat", all your thoughts, ringing true

and
In so may states, and so many flows
realized realizations, that i did not see coming, or "chose"
and found myself feeling
more and more, in heart, there, with you, just "at home"

there was an actuality
that brought us together
never would have met,
had the fates', not there, intervened, so tethered
us, to that which, we both seek,
to escape
all the everyday enslaved, but for the dollar, to make

the day to day doldrums,
life as a monetized mundanity
but if not for that exact reality
I would've never found you,
your incredible, unfathomable
palpably touching humanity

the paradox, the parallax view
all the hundreds times thousands
of moments, bled magic, that led me to you

the fears of strangers
and findings,"too close",
"the run and the ruin it",
projections of ghosts

that cause the moments
of terror, this "tender"
one of us "stamped",
the recipient versus sender

synergies, synchronized
maybe that's all, one can hope for, here
fleeting, found, your paradise, wise

and again, I return,
those same, soul like sex,
drenching, dream eyes

say the wants and the wishes
of an unrecognized life

but for all i've seen, and all I know,
comes the pain and the struggle
to let it all go
some rare beings
you just want to bathe in, bask, behold, forever
the "internal combustion"
of chemistry, mystery
the connection, ...."it....must...then"...

"mean this, if that"
and if not,
then it must mean, nothing at all
our fragile egos
on the edges of them, like cliffs
do we fall

what I want, and see, "just me"
reflections, visions, apparitions
of "we"
all the things
that may not come to be
whatever it's called, whatever it means...

as alone in our worlds,
of want and wander, search, see

so again, I return, the silence
and sanctuary, trees
and can only hope, in human
that you will somehow remember me

as the realization swells
it's all minefields, of "mine, feels" 
must "own this"
the experience, alone, this.

I can never be you,
I can never know what's really true
all I ever could ask,
is that, for the fleeting, in moment
you, just for a second,
may have felt it too

(the love, it was real)

the inner chaos corrupts
we return to games,
minds don't trust
we run and we run,
the ever inner, insatiable son

but, in surrender,
yes, I once saw through
to the immense, immeasurable heart
that you hide, and you cultivate chaos,
to prove

that nothing and no one,
excuse the gender, the sex,
will ever truly know or capture
you
until the day,
you are released to the rapture

of allowance, "the open"
not a manipulate, for a take,
or a token

not a mirage of masks,
for the chore or the task

of being anything, but
the beautiful you
fearing the vulnerable,
you vacate
and return to all the voices
inside, you war, like a soldier,
troop, placate

this, we collide, here,
and return to the silence,
our inevitable "separate"

as in "separate from",
but aligned, in a way
both "casualties of war"
the
"are you sick of me yet?",
wounds, insecurities, we betray..

ourselves
and those,
around us,
who'll stay

watch over and cradle
our "sleepless", no blame

I felt that for you
and I loved it, lived it,
to a point, impassioned.

compelled,
drawn to,

no shame.


bowen hart roselli
1 april 2020
ringwald love

a penchant for the overly complicated,
I guess that's why
I desire to be dominated

just tell me what you fucking want
and do it straightforward,
no fraudulent fronts

no wishy-washy,
back and forth
my mind broken, it needs
to succumb, your force

but it's not in the way, you think
I'm not some game or "role play" twink
you've gotta have heart
and you must feel love
and if you can feed my starved psyche
then you'll see, I'm yours
and I will never get enough

of you, your story,
your sadness and glory
your faults, your flaws
your twists and turns,
in me, you will find
the perfect combination of "behold" and "burn"

as in a fire, burning bright, your yearn
some might say, "just a delusional fool"
the kind, made of love,
blind and stupid, "I'll never learn"

the lessons that keep haunting me,
again and again,
all the faces, once past
that I know, in sadness, I will not
once more, see

to feel such love
but cannot feel it, flowing back,
in exchange
a malady that torments my mind,
kind of good, but somewhat delicately deranged

I only know, what I can feel for you
but never understand that you
might feel it back, for me, too

and so I go to extremes to try
to come to terms
with what lies behind my eyes

a mind in shards,
a "heart of glass",
for most they'll say,
"yeah, I'll take a pass"...

to much work and too much pain
inside "too damaged",
marked by the strain

of just trying to make sense
of a non sensible world
you're fucked from the get go,
if can't even be sure,
if you're either a boy, or a girl

got the parts and look of a man
but the psyche, "fragile, vulnerable"
like the archetype. "the girl"
forever waiting,
just to "stand by her man"

yeah, that's "old school",
but remember, I'm a fucking fool
whose belief that there was
a "one and only",
has left me aged, and alone,
in my lonely

ness, that hurts and throbs, like hell
some of us, not the same story,
to tell...

not the ones that we wanted, but got
when dreams, they never come true,
when sought

they say you gotta give
and fight for what you want
i've done it and tried
and time and again, I have died.

"survivor", yes
but exactly, what for?
to watch another beautiful face,
pass by, walk away, part my front door

yes, there are times,
I just don't think, I can take it anymore
what's left to become,
once you've already been
an utter failure and a whore?

at life, at success
tired of being a god damned mess
but once you know
the damage, "has been", done
where do you run, for escape,
once "no fun"

all the things you thought
you believed
the ones who came not to give,
but deceive

the ones who offered, tell me
how to feel and how to heal
but didn't stick around
once I could not, at their alter,
of "tossed off cliche'" bullshit, kneel

some, I suppose, are just "too real"
to belong here, the banished
from "the straight, even keel"

the ones that just want to think
for themselves,
trust me, that's a sure invitation to hell

the hell of being awake and "wide"
open to seeing all the game
and the lies

but fuck me, (you won't)
for believing, some man, soul, out there
who could handle me, want to be free
to drown in the love, "unwavering"

devotion, this ocean of heart
that swims and soars,
in the hope and possibility of "we"

(found and lost,
he slips, forever, through my hands)

I guess I'm just a "born to walk alone"
half-man.

(but oh, what I wouldn't give, to dare,
just once, this time, please be, prove me, finally, wrong)


bowen hart roselli
31 march 2020
ringwald love