Describe Me In One Word, Aint Y'All Adorable, The Brow, And Poetry in Just another day in Paradise...

Brian In A Word

So, I was talking to greengrapes the other night, and while I gained yet another (terrible) nickname, she asked me to describe myself in one word and what others have used to describe me in one word..

I described myself as passionate.

I’ve had a lot of one-word descriptions in the past, and she wanted me to ask everyone here who reads me to partake in labeling me (good luck with that!) in a word.

So what say you? What is Brian in a word?

Aint and Y’all

So, weigh in. Are the words aint and y’all proper English?

I do actually say y’all on occasion. I find it perfectly proper vernacular given my region and cultural heritage.

Aint, on the other hand, not a big fan of. I’m a Saints fan, damnit. Ha. Seriously, though, as a writer I have learned to try and begrudgingly embrace Aint as a legitimate word because there are songs and verse that do actually sound and flow better using aint as a descriptor than any other negative word could offer in substitute.

So.. y’all? Yay or nay?

So.. aint? Yay or nay?

You Wanna Do What Now To My Brow?

Also, she thinks I should shave off one of my eyebrows and record a video of it. I think it’s nigh absurdity, but that’s just the kind of people I apparently roll with. She wanted to start a GoFundMe account and see what we’d raise to do it. And Caroline offered when she visits from Canada to do the shaving. What the hell?

I’m as big an Anthony Davis fan of the New Orleans Pelicans as anyone, but I ain’t the brow.

With friends like these..

Oh, and here’s a crappy thing I wrote the other day that I wasn’t going to post, but hey why not?

Have a wild and fun weekend you crazy kids..

Poetry

And sometimes the inspiration comes from the loss of light and the absence of fight..

“Are We Promising”

Tell me, darling, are we promising one another, or are our promises just another truth of addiction traversing the avenue of desire?

I feel your heat when the lunar cycle turns viral, and I am but a simple pauper desperate to offer you everything that I might ever hope for and all that I can.

There is a weakness in your leg, and a hardness within your gait, and I find that within the connection we have cobbled, I am going to always crave you. The way you sway..

And the voice that corrals my hope into a half-empty bottle of vodka that rests next to my haggard and disconsolate breath speaks – oh it speaks. Speaks your name.

Tell me, darling, are we promising one another, or are our promises just another false predilection of curiosity transcending the avenue of vulnerability?

Oh, how I long to be tangled within your woven web of conviction, your false sense of prediction, and the truest part of loving contrition.

I want nothing more than to be the world that you wake up to, and the one you darken when your eyelids fall hard and sleep overtakes you.

Again.

You see, darling, I am but a simple man in a complex game that requires me to be things I cannot and shall never want embrace.

Love.

What a silly chase..

And here I am, standing confident and resolute, while being constantly used and I long for the hand of a slender friend that wants not for themselves..

But wants to understand.

And it is in this cobweb of desire, this concrete and abstract wildifre, that I find myself falling for your smile again and again.

And again.

Speak to me of sunsets without conquest, and of rainbows with no regard to halos, and of warriors without wisdom, and all of the rest..

Sing to me of angels without a way out, and of beauty beyond the starlight, and of warriors without weapons, and all of the rest..

Hold me down with a vengeance, and follow me without selfish intentions, and I shall turn and stare you straight down.

I offer you my hand, and I wonder if you take it how long you can stand, all the beauty and broken wings that comprise this ordinary man.

And how I don’t feel I’ll ever heal fully and mend.

What say you, starlight?

My darling wildfire?

Are we going to find inclusion, disillusion, or the truth of the world – sincerity in confusion until there exists no more heart of mine nor your hand in mine?

Are we going to dance forever?

Or shall we root ourselves amongst the danger?

And finally find our way to one another – home.

Brian Milici
October 7, 2015

Feedback, as always, is adored.

Y’all be good now, ya hear?

May you always find your smile.

Last updated October 09, 2015