Faces of the Altering Brut & The One

The One

Merely to have known
is to have been touched
Merely to have loved
is to have been enough

Faces of the Altering Brut

A soul searching sun had pried deep inside
I see with abnormal eyes that have dried
And I stare into my discontent
For I misled you, I mislead
Because I am, I am man, I invent
And ask no sympathy for my evolving intent
But I see, and hear, I do not need
I speak my truth and my mind be freed
And walk and talk, and do as I please
The first race, a higher race? Brings noble to knees

Transfigure ready, but not seen in myopic sight
Developed in soul, I seek convalescence, my right
And I elope here, where others are elevated to conquering class
Deprieved, I stand naked of rank and standard
Alive, I breathe my words I speak, come forth to last
And unaware I inhabit, never to change the past
Dwelling with callow, my spirit mourns from the graveyard
Deceased emotions tend thick skin, a shield and guard
I live this life to prove to those who doubt
No matter of my origin, the emotion opens floodgates apon drought

“Yes, son go forth.” But the dignified had lied
And show them all, my modern age quest denied
A peasant, requesting battle with mind impaired
Thinking with body, I fought with physical greed
And they died, swords flayling the air
I, the Victor, searching forward an opponent to dare
I slashed and struck with quality deed
Holding my own, my wounds would still bleed
Now, as a warrior, my brain is numb
And due, retired, my time has finally come

Weekly Theme:
Memory Lane

All poems featured this week were written when I was in my early to mid-teens.
I’ve corrected spelling and obvious grammatical errors, otherwise they remain untouched.

28 thoughts on “Faces of the Altering Brut & The One

    1. My poetry was much better than my lyrics. I put a lot of time into it.
      I read the masters and tried to mimic their styles, I still do it now. If I read enough of someone I can replicate their style to an extent. I’ve even done it for a few wordpressers in the past 2 years 😏 it’s all in the name of practice.
      Still, I dont think I was any better than the majority of teens who laboured over the pen.
      Compared to I expect to blown out of the water. You have any intention of releasing the teenage Harley?
      I think I have a year on you πŸ€”
      Also, I added a few pics to today’s post as promised. The covers of my old poetry books and couple of the poems I’ve posted.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’ll go check them out!

        Teenaged Harley is buried in an attic somewhere in New York if not thrown out by now. I left unexpectedly at 19 when a summer trip to Seattle turned into never going back home, so I don’t have it on my person but I would gladly share it for laughs if I did.

        All I have is a blurry photo of me and my hs sweetheart in matching fishnet shirts.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I had a box of memories, movie and concert tix, the books, random items etc. The box is gone, most the contents scattered to the winds, but the books remain.
        I’m sure that attic box is still there. One day in the future you will have the opportunity to take that walk down memory lane.

        You are much braver than I. I have never and will never attempt to wear any kind of fishnet clothing 🀣

        Liked by 1 person

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