broke my heart
broke my trust
broke my mind, apart
broke my sense of something
beginning, a start

broke the words,
hate now, text
broke the feeling i had,
what may come next

never did i plan
to love you like i did
you didn't seem to mind it
until i vanished from "the moment"
you live.

you broke me, yes
but i guess i needed it, best
done by someone as blind, selfish
as you
no malice, your intent
just a lack of caring for anyone
but you
so i guess that's progress,
on my road, so much "bent"

out of shape, experiences, twisted
found a place in my heart,
purity found, not resisted

all those moments, i looked
felt you, "heaven on earth"
no regrets, i refuse to play the game
your "undeserving" mind games,
self worth

gifted chameleon
you broke me, your innocent eyes
and avoidance "in the moment"
i believed you, beyond
your many told lies,
told to yourself
and put upon others,
you can't help yourself
man of melt into the form of
who you're around,
you become the "everyone else"

now i see it, know it
and for myself, the truth
do i walk away broken
by the mirage of your beautiful

and own it.

bowen hart roselli
26 december 2020
ringwald love

 

broke me.

the hope,
the heart,
the "not again", end,
fall apart.

the forced "new start",
the "never saw it coming",
you, your lightning rod,
then watching you dart

away.
outta here, vanished
plenty, your promises
meant nothing,
mere words, wasted,
you, manic?

who knows, who cares
an expert, am i
at the "life isn't fair"
bullshit parade
of spectacle and silence
so what if my pleasure
is sex bordering on violence

separate
the love from the lust
the truth from the trust
the tender from the thrust
the " it matters" from "the must"

can you, or someone, please explain
the reason we put ourselves
through so much pain
the torment of trying, so hard, in vain
when it all seems to end,
in the same place, "love drained"

devoid of consistency,
anything, always
too many hearts, lost,
they linger in the hallways

the hotel of my heart,
get them out, get them gone
"thoughts", for each other
i thought they mattered,
i was wrong...

but you,
the one I'd fight forever
to keep
don't ask me why,
you, the come back,
in complete

doesn't make sense,
i guess that's the point
just call me the jukebox,
and we'll call you "the joint"

the one that houses the music,
the madness,
the one that encapsulates
emotions that encompass
all spectrum's, realms
from deep joy, despair, sadness

never planned, prepared,
it was you
but all i did, i felt it, the truth
and in return, you "black eyed"
and bruised
made everything all about
the gaping wound that is you

took reciprocation,
made it a deviation
took a real team,
and destroyed it,
you, "the runaway", relation

to anyone and anything
that sees right through, to your soul
"your sting"
a gifted chameleon,
underneath, fragile, weak
so of course, determined
to destroy what you seek

broken, again
and let me repeat
the holes, heart plenty
as i try to salvage, what soul left,
light leaks

so sick, tired, exhausted
by the genuine love,
like a passerby, accosted
"beat the shit out of"
for seeing, believing in "beautiful"

but fuck me, the one
like a servant, enslaved, ever dutiful

to "the cause", of care, concern
build a bonfire, watch it burn
watch it all become, all about you
disembowel the divine, in the connect
you did too

to me, formed a "we"
but i guess, "no big deal"
who knew, it so easy
to find, flower, conquer
another heart, someone true
someone real

i guess it's me,
who doesn't "the score"
once a whore, twice "a bore"
alive in things
like deep affection and "adore"

shit, that here,
doesn't matter much, anymore

broken here,
responsible,
scrape myself off the floor

and get back up, get back out
smile, all the bigger
learn "the jig", up, from the jigger

be like you,
selfish to the core
therefore successful in succumbing
to eviscerating, evaporating
all the hurt, hope, happenings,
hearts, came before

for the quest of "me",
now ready, and suppressed
for success

if i can manage to put myself
back together,
with you, somehow etched,
stuck inside me

but pretending it not,
"last chance" to get it right,
like everyone else

we'll see.


bowen hart roselli
29 december 2020
ringwald love 

never knew you
were supposed to
hide your heart
play a part
fake your art
steal your cart

put
me above you
lies before truth
words before soul
take before toll

as in, the toll it takes on you
living a life trying to give
equals screwed

by the majority,
fuck "moral"
like the choir in the choral
assembly assembled for the sake
of the gain
so sobs the angels, left like road kill
in pain

from simply trying to be
something more human
than what they see
all around us, the "vacant with glee"
just deny what is happening,
the destruction of intimacy, bleed

no time for a phone call,
no time for real care
no time for anything
that doesn't involve technology
and "media, social",
if not an easy ego boost illusion
then what does it mean,
when you don't exist then,
"who cares?"

that would be few
as in fewer, far between
good luck if you are on your own
none of that easy swallowed shit
like a partner or a family

all the things
that make the masses,
oh so happy, fists full of "sappy"
shovel it down,
as in shove it on through
"success!" is the "see me"
and mine, so posed and perfect
thus proved

"all is good and yes, i've made it!"
no one knows the secrets, outdated
things like "the struggle"
or the pain, underneath
make sure there are no stains
on those sheets

that you use to cover all your shit,
all your bull
brain cells, devoid
it's all "sound bites" in skulls

i never knew
it was all a game
and so me, yes "the loser"
i have no one but myself to blame

if everyone's doing it
i should've been screwing it
but my thing doesn't work that way
has nothing to do with prison cells
"straight or gay"

has more to do with
the invisible, inside
an identity, a soul
attached to a heart
i could not figure out how to hide

and so i sank
instead of swim
watched prospects of progress
through my hands, run thin...

cuz this world,
gotta be playing games, always
all the boys i like
prefer psycho bitches
parading down their hallways

so then me, "just too easy"
"too nice, too there",
gentle winds, blow my "breezy"
so i bent my backwards to "sleazy"
and found a devouring darkness
that would make many real queasy

so "fuck it", i tried
had to leave that behind
turns out, just never good enough
to be the one to light the heaven
inside another's loving, adoring eyes

"ok, I'll accept it",
cuz what else can you do
chalk up my life to a waste of dreams
and energy, misguided truth

amongst the madness, the sadness
of all the things
i thought, felt that mattered,

turns out i was wrong.

it was all the things
i never wanted to believe,
therefore never learned,
until too late, "the awake"
days of despair, lonely, long

now my undoing,
but "death by a thousand cuts"
at least, in the end

makes you strong.

and i know, when i walk alone
in silence, no more words
past all the lovers, entwined
arm in arm

in motion, my emotions
and thoughts, "somewhere else"

that somewhere, not here
is exactly the place
I've always known, i belong

(and as such, no surprise
my lack of success, just an utter
failure at love, plus everything here)



bowen hart roselli
26 december 2020
ringwald love

 curse of the writer.

no deep experience, feeling
should go unexpressed, unwritten
just like adam said to eve,
"let's not leave that apple unbitten"

"it's glistening there, so ripe,
just for us, friends of innocence,
lovers of the sun"...

yet "damned", don't we know
what their mistake caused
some mistakes can't be undone
or re-thought

after the fact, after the shame
i know this well,
a masochist, master, at self blame

cutting myself up,
from the inside out
isn't self hatred, what's being
"just a human" is all about?

"nothing that memorable"
in a sea of beautiful bodies
who cares, who stops, take notice
if most, within, are empty and rotting

that's what it seems,
that's what it feels
place of "me first" grabs and steals

of the light, "the spot, the lime"
of every dollar and every dime
to add to bank accounts, so stuffed
to live your dreams,
it's a matter of "must"

be.like.everyone.else.
"get with it"
and if you can't
"then just forget it"

hopes and wishes,
in the wind, they cry
so bleeds the man with no one
at his side

for longer than, the fleeting moment
if you're gonna pay a price,
then at least you can own it

the reality that,
you live in your own reality
and on "mockings and cockings"
you developed quite an ingrained
"doomed mentality"

the violence of sex,
the sex of violence
learned it by ten,
what "esteem" was, this "mine-ness"

called escape from the body
and a flee from "the self"
spent 48 lifetimes,
dying, trying, to be somebody else

never got it right, for long
seems that's the gift
reserved only for the strong

and all the laughter,
that aforementioned "mocking"
mix that with the unzipped pants,
face plant, "cocking"

the feel of the belt, cheap leather
on my cheek
oh, so many evils, that the awake
cannot speak

curse of the writer,
or just an " out to pasture, put" cocksucker

too many times, too many lines
fed them, read them
as truth, lost my mind...

but never my heart,
that's the other curse, it seems
"too big, too much, too intense",
no one needs

"over thinking", "over feeling",
see where it gets you,
see where it leads...

think, return to the beginning,
"crazy kids", adam and eve
blame it on the temptation to try
to "love more", to believe

when merely
"human isn't good enough",

as a kid, that knowledge,
burned into me
'cuz what i witnessed "humans"
doing to one another

i could never let myself be.

and though far from perfect,
flawed and fractured, to forever
curse of the writer,
you cannot say, if i loved you
did i not mean it, show it
write it in the sky, for you, whether

or not you "got it",
felt anything, similar, back

some of us, struck here
surrounded, the insight,
what this land truly lacks

(real love, unwavering, and a truth
of heart, innocence, tenderness
worth coveting, treasuring, savoring)

for you, i felt it,
beyond rational, or wounds,
understanding
and so i risked it all
beyond shame and "that apple"
me, here, just a "forbidden fruit"
bearing the curse of the writer
and the "out pour of my heart"

for the backlash, the back, fall
"silence is golden" and "normal"
therefore, the less words the better
reminded, time and again,
the apple, crumbled and ripe,
the "not again" sin,

reprimanding.

bowen hart roselli
12 december 2020
ringwald love

 panic attack.
(off the trail, off the track)


all the little particles of matter,
what do exactly, here, they form?
something quite unusually unusual,
someone here beyond the realms
of "the norm"

shadows of a stranger, forming
steps towards the winds, fate, storming
brewing, building, bursting through
all it was, i thought i knew

sight askew, as "slightly off"
different stations, different troughs
that we feed and drink, ordained
some here laughing, some in pain

different avenues, different streets
different thread counts, stated,
our sheets

that we hop in, "jump in the sack"
some claw pillows, preyed,
panic attacks

while some, their beds made
latest lover, while love, it fades
it's a bitch, a burden, a becoming
quite bruising
to wake up, aged,
never "making the grade"

unless "f" is for fabulous,
"d", is divine
"c" is for caring,
"b", the heart bleed, hope, "be mine"
and "a", is the last,
in this reverse, universe
"a" is for the apathy, averse
to recognizing, in deep empathy,
a curse...

to "get too close"
to the fire, the flame
an enmeshment, entwinement
for far too many, this state unknown
or acted, as if on a stage, all a game

boundaries of belief,
crossed over into twilight
nuance of noir, filmed, so framed
monochrome, black and white

"the zone", it convenes,
"is it you or is it me?"
and so he walks, ever onward, alone
unable to stop thinking, feeling
as the words, they flood,
then fade, to remind him
the search, it seems,
is his only way, wayward

forward, vision of home.

(harry reems)....


bowen hart roselli
7 december 2020
ringwald love

 the kindest man i felt i knew

...and if all i have is this now,
then it's the one thing
that i never knew...

i may never know
who you truly are
but could you spare me a moment
of thought, even feeling
to possibly wonder
if you know, under your skin, who i am,

or so the mystery proves...

elusive...distant, removed.

(but yes, I'll die trying, fractured light, the sun soaked,
walking to the end of the earth, proved..
just as i tried, and died again
wholeheartedly, with, and amongst,
the unspoken of you)

the kindest man, i felt so deeply,
i knew.


bowen hart roselli
6 december 2020
ringwald love

 hi,
my name is utter devastation (think emotional/psychological)
and I'm here to tell you a little bit about myself. I am known to a very
special, select group of souls for whom my presence has made itself
a continual reminder throughout their lives. Yes, every single man, woman in this life sees me,
feels me visit them at least once or twice
(death of a pet, loss of a parent, a child, spouse, close friend, that kind of thing),
but for this special clan i am speaking of, i find them very young
(and we know how this world loves the young),
cut a hole deep inside them (such unspeakably ugly ways, you don't want all the lurid details of how i do it..trust me)
and thereby make, implant my mark, "my seed", so as to come back and strike upon them again,
in ways they often are too blinded, confused by me to see.....coming.

Poor souls, i know, I'm a dastardly, devious devil, but some tribe has got to balance
the scales for the more "normal" lives of so many people who seem get pretty much whatever
and whom they want with relative ease. You see, for these folk I'm speaking of, all the regular rules don't apply.
No matter how hard they try, work hard, pray harder, "be good soldiers",
it doesn't erase the mark, "the etch" placed inside them, I've made.

But it can't be all "doom and gloom", every hell has got to have a little heaven,
so i am known to shine some individualistic rays of light upon them,
give them some hopeful beauty now and again, otherwise they'd simply kill themselves
and that would be the end of it, end of me, no fun.
(the strong ones, they stay, but so sad, the ones that "opt out early", "off themselves",
no matter what little good i give, send their way, every now and again)

Utter devastation, i live to break these souls. Somehow they keep getting up though,
these extra special ones, at war with me, my cruel, bloodthirsty game.
That's why i chose them, although they'll never exactly figure out the "why them"...
If they did, maybe they'd be able to outwit, outrun, be done, me.
I mess up their minds so thoroughly, masterfully, that somewhere deep down,
they don't believe they can and live in fear that I'm always waiting, lingering, just....around...the...corner.
Strike! Surprise! Gotcha, another "not again' time.

I am utter emotional/psychological devastation and i live to see the deep, wrenching pain in their eyes,
hold them at night, as they sob, as they writhe.

How do i achieve this, beyond the more obvious of my ungodly acts?
(rape, molestation, beatings, muggings, murder, adultery, betrayal by a deeply trusted family member,
best friend, loved one, kidnapping of a child, horrible disease inflicted on the young,
car crash death, plane crash death, death during childbirth, etc...)

Well, It's very simple.
95% of the time, something hopeful, fruitful, positive comes along and i snatch it from them like a thief in broad daylight.

See, I'm nicer than I'm given credit for, I left a 5% offering of light, success, things working out,
evolving, coming to fruition, hope.

My "utterly devastated sensitives", so needy, wanting, selfish, i tell ya...
But back to me, my wily, wounding, ever damaging ways...

That job you worked so hard at?
Eh, i make em hate you and show you the door, smiling, blaming you for everything, of course.

That new romantic interest, so hard to connect, so hard to find?
I make em disappear, forget you for whatever reason i want, or can find.

That group of friends you thought you belonged to, made?
I make em gang up on, talk shit about you and quicker than you can say "hey",
I've sealed your fate and your bed, alone, once again, is made.

Those family members you thought had your back?
They just saw it as something to repeatedly break, crush, stab.

That person you bonded with, trusted with all your heart, best of your soul?

Surprise!, they really didn't pay you much mind, turns out all their kindness was a ploy for gain,
or worse, just a momentary "didn't mean much of anything to them" product of your fucked up,
delusionally fragile, ever still so hopeful mind.

Because you are just "that kind".
My favorite kind.
Sensitive. Creative. Thinking. Deep Feeling. Seeing. Sensing. Knowing.
And the all time worst, my favorite,
"Heart on sleeve" showing.

So therefore.
Scapegoated. Blamed.
Misunderstood. Maimed.
In and of me, utter devastation, both
forever changed, altered repeatedly and yet..
simultaneously unchanged.

i have many intricate and numerous ways, I am utter devastation after all,
and those that know me, once too often throughout their lives, they know, yes, to fear me,
that I'm not some shallow attention seeking device. I cut deep. I scar the brain even deeper.
"For life", and if i had my way, far beyond that as well, (think that place that i come from, hell)
This is not some playtime game, nor for the weak, just the same.

The clan I've created, they know and live with me by name.
I guess you could say I'm unshakable, unforgettable that way....

and ultimately, my victory
is to make them so afraid of hope,
of hoping for anything sweet,
innocent, rewarding and lasting,
that they will simply live to outlive
me, and the weight of my pain

but damn, they are strong, i'll give 'em that, the ones that make it through, regardless of all i make
so utterly devastating for them, "so wrong".

maybe, when they least expect it, i'll give them a break and allow something good to happen, to last,
the ones that know the meaning of the fight, war waged long...
(remember, that 5% chance exists for them as long as they do)

So live and love on, in spite of, and for me, the one's, "my children", the haunting of me,
they know and feel all too well,
and belong.



bowen hart roselli
12 december 2020
ringwald love

welcome to the real america
where if it's not happening to you,
it's doesn't really matter
if it's happening to someone else

if you aren't fucking them,
aren't family, aren't friends
then it's truly every selfish
for themselves

beyond race, beyond gender
beyond every fucking pronoun
you can toss and puree in
"the god just kill me quicker" blender

selfish reigns as the soul becomes
something to devour,
destroy as we grow
ever increasingly numb

technology hookers
and pimps, just the same
dead-eyed kids,
born with a slab of social media
in their face

all "me, me, me"
not you, as in before,
as in placed, the qualities
inner character and grace

things like heart,
they don't pay the bills
and they sure don't get
those bank accounts filled

to say nothing of "followers",
attention beggars and borrowers
good luck if your stomach
finds you bleeding the bullshit
in the stress, strain of "the sorrower"

looking around, in horrid disbelief
says charlie brown, before
self strangulation, "good grief"

as lucy now,
does a lot more, for five cents
has re-assignment surgery to pay
along with an ever increasing rent

bitch can't get by,
with just being a girl
that's not enough
to hoard the spotlight, this world..

even if no one cares,
really notices
welcome to only being
as good, of value as your notices

notice of eviction,
notice of conviction,
notice of omission,
notice of suspicion...

don't trust those weirdo's
who care, when not required
or anyone doing anything
beyond themselves,
beyond self gain or ego-maniacal
need, hole feed, to be admired

in all the wrong ways,
as in, for all the wrong things
a buffet of sloth
and "scarf down", see?
"onto the next"
and what they can bring..

to the party, "get it starting"
"smile big and bright" for the praise
don't be pensive, thoughtful, don't
that will get you thrown away,
not raised

up, as in successful
"deep" is not desired, it's stressful
on the body, and taxing, on the mind
it does not pay
to be "one of a kind"

the kind, of what?
you may, won't ask?

the kind that is alive
not for "the game", the mask
the kind as seen,
"not up to the task"
the kind for whom
the crowds do not bask

in the shadows, in the streets
head held down
or hiding under pillows and sheets

just wanting to get the hell
out of this place

the real america now,
land of the selfish,
greed and gain imbibed,
inhuman race

an artless artifice,
in the name of
"no one else exists, but me"

a disgrace.

(thank god, yes, for the nurses, the healthcare workers, the caregivers, the caretakers, the few true friends,
and the "last life lovers" that do, yes, shine and still exist here, outnumbered, in this day and age, and time)


bowen hart roselli
4 december 2020
ringwald love

gimme everything,
everything i want
plus everything i think i want
and it still won't be enough
because "everything" isn't you
and it never will be
because, you
there is only one

irreplaceable, indefinable
incomparable
unfathomable, your mystery
your artistry

the art of simply being you.

infuriatingly impenetrable,
as in strong willed and sensitive,
just the same

belligerent and beautiful
blind and so alive
in all you see and sense,
once and once more, time again

so gimme everything,
anything, to preoccupy myself
distract myself from your absence,
the nagging slow drip ache,
the pain

of simply not being able
to be around you

sit near you
talk to you
relate to you,
not quite relate to you

differences, fascinating
but given the chance to
I've learned a lot,
explored your inner landscape,
with love

the parts you've allowed me,
shared with me,
somewhat, trusting
then somewhat not

a duality, a complexity
that reflects the truth
that lives, breathes inside me

an inner war, a battle,
a struggle

to be human here
surrounded by the suffocating
strangle hold
"same old, same old"

rules applied,
"looks like we've died"
just a little bit more,
than we wish to want to
recognize

so gimme everything...

joe piscopo,
in his soul shivering,
heart throb, knee quivering prime

plenty of money
to never again have to worry

a decent job, dare it have
lasting purpose and a good future,
benefits, pay, to match

a string of nights
with consistent, deep sleep

the removal inside,
binge like hunger,
processed, garbage food to eat

gimme tacos 'til eternity
because they remind me of you

the heaven i once felt
eating them with, and while
talking, soul sharing with you

i knew it then,
as i feel it, same, now

knew i was blessed,
simultaneously touched

the tiniest things,
the biggest, light brings

seemingly throwaway moments
none were disposable
because they were with you

lastly, gimme the courage
to share this shine, this shit
with you
and not care, not worry
that you'll never get, embrace
understand me

i am simply speaking
the truth

gimme that, gimme everything
because i know

no one and nothing
is the "everything"

i felt, i found
i kind of died a little bit
in the name of heaven,
hand bit by hell

just by standing there
in the sunshine

by your side.

the gods know how i miss that,
how i miss you

nothing more, nothing less

than it meant the universe,
the world

as in everything
to know, experience, adore
embrace, love you

in the way i can, in the way i do

so all i want is "everything",
but differently now
'cuz you changed me,
destroyed, broke and saved me

for seeing
a different kind of everything
worth fighting, struggling for

that's the treasure chest in you,
that's what true

I'd give up everything
just to have you back,
have you around

but i still wouldn't mind
joe piscopo, in or out of his prime,
beautiful, "off the beaten path"
brilliant man

"different and everything"...

just like you.


bowen hart roselli
4 december 2020
ringwald love

to love someone
give to someone
care for someone
who is not just someone

beyond yourself
beyond walls and wounds
manifestations of the mind,
fears loom

beyond "lost" limitations,
a lack of self confidence
an embedded belief system,
ingrained, if it's me,
something i hope for..
something will, in the way,
go wrong with it

always does,
"because, because"..
seems that's what happens
when you live for love

not "normal" here,
even though it's claimed
by prophets, priests,
and the playground ordained

success, survival of the fittest, unfit
copycat creatures, scratching,
clawing, clamoring for the latest
"look at me", hit

song or scene
or invention, intention
"quick buck, quick fuck"
"long list, good luck"...


we humans,
at least the ones remaining
amongst the onslaught of others
known as "people", all their
shallow, soulless ruinous staining

have a hard time,
"falling in line",
trusting it's true,
when we find, like a miracle
one of our kind

unlike anyone else,
that's the problem
like some strange angel,
here, they have fallen

can't define them, confine them,
to easy epitaphs
definitions, molds
easy "fit to frame" masks

these few, amongst the "everyone"
not the smoothest of paths,
as they come
rough around the edges
and seams
but oh, the insights, the "soul shine"
it beams...

of a beautiful, like no one
has seen here before
a mystery, inherent
indescribable, all the more

fascinating as,
is "factual" always not
something that, in books,
can be taught

some souls tear up
every page, every rule
by no fault of their own,
they "just are",
within the chaos of cruel

the kind, the considerate
the ones most likely deemed
"the functionally illiterate"

the sensitive, the "so then, scarred"
the ones' who can see past
this "lump of rock",
shoot straight through the stars

to a universe
far beyond most,
of limited perception
these, the heroines, the heart throbs
of "the dream come true" perception

i carry within,
that carries me forward
keeps me focused on the "cherish"
in a mind, a landscape,
littered with disorders

"disorderly conduct",
i suppose i am that criminal
as my understanding
of how to be human,
with a heart that gives,
gets out of here alive,
it is minimal

to say nothing of all
the utter failures and fractures
i guess i never could
make up my mind,
other than to love,
and to give a shit about it,
what it was, here, i was after

so full responsibility,
to the end of it all
i will take it, 'til it kills me

i hate most everyone,
but good god, yes
i loved you
and the only thing i dare try,
"get it right",
was to follow my heart
and, for you,
so touchingly, "fragile fire" rare,

do the one thing I'm not good at
with much of anything else...

and actually, account-ably
you, such a gift, to this world,

follow through.


bowen hart roselli
2 december 2020
ringwald love