some strange ability
to put you
before me
apparently this isn't any kind
of life you are supposed to lead

we become
the beasts we feed
break the soil, plant the seed
believing you, so important to me
i lived what i felt, overcome
and now i see the damage is me

not you, your fault
we are all bound and tied
to our destinies', called

or, can we change
our innate dna?
that thing deep inside us
that somehow lights the path
we have paved

motion and energy
function and synergy
so many strangely boring
devoid of anything like
the mesmerizing, mystery

that demands inner insight
most prefer just to fuck and fight
and it's only each projecting
what's behind our hello's
and "have a good night's"...

i've no idea
the prosper propulsion
but I've seen the look, eyes,
utter disgust and revulsion

so much so that i
can barely live with myself
"aah, it's no wonder, I'm not one
of great wealth"...

it takes a lot, of talent,
"win the game"
and too many "fall aparts"
have left be, in afterwards
never quite again, the same

so what I'm good at
unseen, unacknowledged
mostly, just a survival technique
unaware if i have any real power,
mystique...

that would be up to you
to so feel
me, I'm the one born to so
worship and kneel

at the alter of things,
"seem so easy"
for most, but guess not me
a train wreck is
as an afterthought sees...

but my god (guess i have one?)
the love i lived as my grand gift,
undone
just an emotionally intense,
by product, bent
in every way, shape, form
for you

because my heart,
fallen, for you

the one.

who was, yet, then wasn't
or were you?
just as lost here, far from it...

the place, the space
can we please be ourselves?

some of us, starting gate
"just not that simple",
so it's just a little setback,
called hell

but who am i
not to wish you well
so stuffed here inside
with all the secrets, laid upon me
can't tell..

or, yes i could
but do be barely loved
i then question my "should"

and so i walk, a prisoner of me
you, this life
sweet illusion
the lies, they are so much easier

to believe


bowen hart roselli
22 october 2020
ringwald love

....to see such beauty,
to feel such love...

does it matter, make a difference?
i have no idea, but at least
i know myself enough....

to feel and breathe, gush, bleed
like heaven
amounts of things
most don't seem much concerned with

at least not in realms beyond
the frustrating "norms"
of "my little world only"
how we fall in line and conform

to perfect little minions
by millions
pat backs, like champs
of the hearts, we so steal them

little trophies, collected, in mind
we are capable of magic
but we destroy it so casually
so carelessly, to find

we, ourselves, alone, deep inside
comforted by all the lies of love
we abide
the ones that say
it doesn't really matter, what we did
just "live in the moment"
deluding true self, as we move on
ever faster, who to kid

and con with our games
the ones about deflection,
avoidance and blame
"it's you, not me and me not you"
unable to conquer the cruelty, untamed

the kind that permeates
every sector, every floor
every hallway of our "human"
rarely accessed, we,
such self aggrandizing, self promoting
peddling whores

of "hollywood talk",
the infinite stalk
like little creepers, crawling
pretending to walk

taller, prouder
than really, we are
its the maul of the heart
and the murder of stars

for profit, for power
for the draining, depletion
of meaningful hours

time spent communing
with voice attached to soul
what good are we now
if not entrenched in our roles

distant, detached.

what came first,
the key or the latch?
the plan or the hatch?
the dick or the snatch?

the caught or the catch?

you tell me
man of lies and woman of disguise

behind easy lyrics, as epitaphs
we hide

share to the world,
the one, most, truly not listening
as we diminish, in daily
each other, our importance,
our glistening

value and treasure
replacing connections
like coats, jackets,
all weather

"take one off, put one on"..
land of little lasting,
if at all, very long...

what's another body
before us, so trampled
what's another heart
for the easy play, sampled..

eaten and swallowed,
with barely a mind present
just maybe my hell, or yours
for some, heaven...

the slaughter, the succulent
murder of stars
still, your face unforgettable
work of art, left in shards...

my mind, my memories
of you, held and cradled
as some kind of magic
that befell me once, labeled

as heaven on earth
by "someone like me"
now
the murder of stars
by you

i can't believe.

you did,
but you did.
and "the why"
is that which now haunts me,
perceived..

as in part, your pathology
man of "universe", astrology
man of so many, bleeding,
beautiful things

left in me to sort through
walk amongst the aftermath
the loss of you, the drowning sadness that brings

like the murder of stars
you committed for a reason

and i hope one day
you realize the hurt
and the haunt

yes, it stings.

in a way never expected
because it came from you

those eyes, how they shined
of something truly remarkable

moving, not murderous,

beyond belief.


bowen hart roselli
22 october 2020
ringwald love

 I've been walking alone,
on my own
with the presence of angels
cassette player speakers,
then headphones
since the beginning
walking forever in search
some safe place, a home

the songs, voices
as company
as the only ever-present
friends, faraway
I've ever and only always had,
could depend

human love
confusing.
unreliable.
undeniably hurtful.
wounding.
self-deluding
differences.

always wanting to make a difference
as a result of me
how i hate what i see

in/of the mirror
and surroundings, planet earth
packed with so many, too many
subtly, scathingly
selfishly awful, "but that's just normal"
society of people.

not the animals' fault
not nature's fault.
now...
i think, i feel
I'd really just like to walk
away and forward
to nowhere, not back

I'd like to walk to the end of the earth
never stop walking
lose all sense of my body, of time
of worry, who is the next to attack..

me, you, each other
our minds, our limbs, our belongings
our beings
the onslaught everywhere
everyone wants something
or even worse, nothing at all
you figure this out, when no one
but destiny calls

in the form of a blind man.
irony, he sees, intuits
more than most
yet he's blind to himself
sorrowfully lost
he, a reflection of me
rejects all the beautiful
within him, i see

his choice, his fight
his "one day here, then gone"
lived plight

"you cannot be, what you cannot see"
no wonder, i am no one
child of split straying spectrums
schizo illuminate displays of light

so i would like to walk, keep walking
no more giving, love expressing
talking, trying, chasing, wishing

just walk past, in, amongst
the trees
until i am drained, depleted
and drop
thoroughly emptied
of every last fear, hope, regret
remembrance
all the displacements, damaged
drownings within
that make the chaos, seek calm
all the torment in palm
of the hand, held, that's me

and i envision
lying lifeless
starved and storied
some little pocket of dirt, earth
somewhere
i am staring up
at the true gorgeous glory
a group of towering, tall
majestically magical, silent stand
trees

and here
there is nothing left to want
nothing left to try
to search for, long for
bleed for, pray for

i fall, i wait
for my last breath
last heartbeat,
a whimper, a jolt
a tear

i am no one, nothing
but humbled
as i leave here
(was i ever really here?)
and dissolve, disintegrate
back into the earth

i would like to be
one of those incredible trees
and watch over you
be finally, the perfect kiss
something magical
that "something" you
could touch, embrace
and need

no ego
no pain
no guilt, complex
no past remembrance, love slain

no failure
no fall
apart anymore

i have walked til i dropped
and do not care what you
or anyone thinks anymore

i arrived at the place
i was meant, all along

naked and nourished
by the natural
I'm at end

and i await, in the envelopment
of the earth, the universe
on the other side, silently

for my real life, to begin.......


bowen hart roselli
19 october 2020
ringwald love

free the heaven
trapped inside of me
if only you could see,
the things i see

the remarkably beautiful
amongst the destructive and dutiful
ones without minds, inside their heads
how they make me hate this world
walk, wishing i was dead

all the ones for whom words
are almost, as in never,
attached to their hearts
all the shit speak and shit talk
murdered, love, language
as a cherished work of art

all the endless bodies,
people everywhere
piled more and more
on top of each other
as daily, to extinction
are the humans who care

about the innocents, the animals
trees, nature, real life
things not digitized, filtered to frenzy
cartooned, dumpster dived

opinions and imbecility
tossed and thrown everywhere
as if most are listening,
amongst all the "me, me, me",
stop to care

back to the brilliance,
removed from the bull
it's found, in mystery, the universe
and in "the rare", that are full

of passion and character,
uniquely their own,
the ones that slay you love struck,
you are not here alone

away from the ever growing
technology onslaught
and another fucking mall
to sell all our souls, clearance sale
pre-priced, bought

there are some
who are just...so...
utterly gorgeous, in glow
demand, you be stopped
in your tracks, "need to know"

be around them,
sweet confound, them
as in "how..in..the..world..
this gross society, they exist.."

that's the magic, yes it is
like the breath that you blew out
the candle, didn't know them, the wish

because once real love found
is one really ever the same,
in the after?

glow and show
and know, the divine
actuality of state
"give you mine"...

my heart, my hope,
my "anything you need"...
this, the sweet, soul shine
a sustenance no food can feed

a succumb, remove the numb
remove the skin and begin again
believing, just maybe,
beyond all the shit,

"hmmm, there just might be,
something to, the something to this"..

thing called a journey,
some call it a path

and i walk with them,
swell of love, locked inside of me

their incredible, irreplaceable etch
their is, without question
no need, dare to ask..

the why?
and what?
and how?

none to speak..

the most awe inspiring awareness..
the beautiful ones, things
you never planned to find,
did not dream, search their seek

they just came, and appeared
and for that, i kneel
the profound, the endeared

for a life i now cannot imagine
stay here, without them...

for 32 years
there was only one guy,
two girls

and now...

there is him.


bowen hart roselli
4 september 2020
ringwald love 

 


imaginary lives
or
the one that isn't mine
what is the secret
what is it like?

most would think, this
a complete waste of time
lucky you then,
those who haven't thoroughly
and completely lost their mind

from being so sick,
so tired, being you
as in me, all i see
through this prism of psyche, bleed
the greatest day and joy
of my life, will be the day I'm
gone, as in "over", released

so come on, tell me
cuz I'd really like to know..
a life beyond the bedroom, hollow
easy cum and sleazy go
quick to fall to my knees
and blow
oh wait, holy shit...
that was like, twelve lifetimes ago..

sorry, the time, it escapes me,
a blur
why I'm still here,
don't ask me, not sure..

i can't "get a grip",
i can't gain a grasp
on what exactly my purpose,
my "good"
as in "good for", so i wander
feeling, thinking i should..

be more "this",
be more "that"..
just can't seem to find my place
where it's at..

i have a talent for torment
and tears..
and look where it's got me,
living trapped, lost in fears...

of aging, war waging
and "do you hate me yet?", engaging
prone to emotions,
intense on scale
somewhere between "love me"
and "fuck it all", cross so nailed..

to my back, sewn, self-imposed
the reasons why, really
nobody knows..
least of all me,
this hunger to be skyward
and free...

just always been a "creepy crawly"
thing, woke up one day,
realizing i was me...

a geek, a freak
a fag, a lag..
behind the boys
and girls too..

in the bushes i learned
i was at least, kinda good for a screw
and that bent me up..
cuz "what did that position, from behind
have anything to do with finding love?"

it didn't, me idiot
but i kept on going..
same direction, downward,
the spiral
perfecting my "good boy"
prince of bending and blowing..

so now that's all dead
and buried, for years..

and i wonder what it's like
to get together with a gang
and have a few beers..

to be the life of the party,
quite charming
to have the kind of charisma
so captivating, confident, disarming..

to be so handsome
i could have anyone, anything
i want
i will never know these things,
so let me put it straight, and blunt

when you live inside
your own skin, mind forever
it's like a prison you long to escape
but can't, ever

except for the magic,
fucking miracle
called love
yet even that, like starvation
is never quite the enough,
for enough...

to bare the weight of
always attempting
to be human here
as in better, stronger, noble
of character
when nothing will ever
justify my merit, worth..

so "fuck it", faster
and forget me, quick
lay me down, lay it on,
good and thick

imaginary lives,
imagining what it's like to be you
that's so much better,
so much more fascinating, true

and with that, I'll get back to it
so thanks for listening
and hooray, now
I'm through...


bowen hart roselli
4 september 2020
ringwald love

make me a candle
that burns, in remarkable,
your beautiful name

make me the wick,
strong stock, unwavering
or make me the flame
golden fire, succulent, savoring

every split second,
every moment, like sacred
that it heals and touches, with hope
nothing impossible,
in the nectar, so naked

with hues of heart
and tenderness, joy
no worries, no fears
whether the limbs belong
to a girl or a boy

just human emotion
filled, pure light, devotion
rarely experienced, rarely ignited
as your candle i would be
something to believe in,
take comfort and flight in

no flounder, no past,
just release, relief at last..
from all the things
that prey on your mind,
the wounds you won't admit
that cause a shift, a stray,
silent kind

just peace, in the inner
and star glow, in external
memories that don't serve your worth,
cast out, like photographs
tossed here to ash,
regions, rightful, infernal

a lifeline of light,
may that be me,
for you
a candle or otherwise
yes, you are my dream come true

through the dark wood I've walked
and found myself lost
and though marked by it,
far from it, perfect
i somehow found my way
to sun's soft

glow that gave me
a feeling, real strength
and taught me,
for a fellow fighter, human
to go the real distance,
to go any length...

to recognize, the rare
gorgeous heat, heart of you
beaming down,
soaked, surrounded
real warmth, bursting through

all the things you do, don't say
all your duality,
delicate meets daring ways

all your fear, equally fearless,
the same
all your "uncompromising",
yet easily "took", by some, led
therefore tamed...

in ways you may
look back and regret
let me not be one of them
you, simply too resplendent
to ever betray, let alone forget

as capture is to captivate
and "belong to" is a divine gift, state

the candle i would be for you
would not dim, like the
"found you" in fate

it's a second, a heartbeat
i could never have foreseen or known
and though worlds apart now
with, and in me, you will always
have a home...

because the lessons
you've taught
and the truth you've shown
cannot be overstated
underestimated,
all the things unknown

that i never knew
until i laid my heart,
eyes upon you

may sound stupid,
may sound trite,
but for me, it's the truth
good to know when I'm wrong,
even better, when I'm right

so say, or don't
and think and feel
what you will
but the candle,
i am, would become for you

it, a life of it's own
nothing time, or distance
or removal can kill

as it's lit in good
and burns with love

because i never knew
in full spectrum of light
in the darkness, smiled a star
just one, tiny, from above

and it led me to you
and for that,
i shine more brightly
in your illuminance, within me

and amongst.


bowen hart roselli
7 september 2020
ringwald love