for the unexpected magic of you
like a dream I never knew I had,
come true

for every moment, big and small
that I felt I belonged, in your presence,
that's all

that it's about, someone like me,
in the end
like a valentine, childlike mind,
drenched in hearts, to the sky, I send

to you, you fucking beautiful soul
the hours spent, talking,
revealing, all the more

that as different as we are,
we are, uncommonly, the same
I felt your fire, I soaked in your pain

because that's what souls
who connect, can do
every thought you uttered
somehow, reached right through

all my walls and all my fears
raised me to rapture,
reduced me to tears

that just when I believed,
no more beauty, could be found
you appeared, out of nowhere
lifted the clouds, there, I found

all my wrongs and all my rights,
a reason for all those sleepless nights
anxiety shaken, true living, forsaken
somehow, something in you,
so inspired me, awakened

my want and hope and heart,
to give,
as if your energy, radioactive

pulling me closer, and further apart
at the seams, like a mystic, "your mark", your art

of resonating truth,
not in just what you say,
but what you do
being so kind, as if born
not of this place or of this time
forgive me, for the times
it confused and rattled my mind

brought out things
that might've scared you away
It's just my heart, so full, your song
so I felt compelled, "please stay"

the feeling like I, just want you around
all the time, it's crazy,
"not the norm",
this drown

in the wonder, and mystery
and so strangely affecting,
that's you

like I'd give anything,
for you to feel and believe me
it's true

not just words
and not just lies
those immeasurably haunting,
sweet, fucking "gorgeous glow" eyes

and all your moods
and all your masks
all the times
you took my bullshit
to task

as I did you,
and we worked through,
two trainwrecks just trying
to find our place in the sun,
"shine through"...

all the mundane
and the attempts, etched, "in vain"
all the days, that seemed, "kill me"
"the same old, same old", the same

but no day, ever
with you, was a bore,
and no love I gave,
ever felt like a chore

it felt like, I, the luckiest guy,
In the world,
to witness you before me,
no one else, in this world

at all, like you
you mean so god damned much,
but really its "blessed",
that's why, filled, deep sadness, I'm touched

that you're not here,
and I'm not there

and together we're not
getting or going anywhere

as, that's what I believe,
I see it, shining, in you
you're the kind, call it "fonzie like", "cool"
just to do anything and nothing
like we were kids in grade school

so, no matter if you get it,
or feel the same, understand
I just need to thank you,
stand up, be a man

not caught up in whether
you will stick around, our endeavor
that's just what, my heart wants,
of course,
how could it not,
let there be no regrets, or remorse

I've said it all, and I'll say it again
I love you, god damn it,
be me a freak, or a friend

be me whatever it is,
and all apologies,
my "overwhelm"
it's not meant to harm,
or invade, your space, charmed

it's just that you matter
so much,
I'm disarmed

so carry that with you,
and I hope, like heaven,
you return

but if not,
I thank you,
for all you gave, in soul kind,
I learned

yes, there still, is a heaven on earth
I felt it, pulsate, flow through me
standing next to you, worth

more than anything,
more, than "priceless", can convey
this sadness just means
written, in my heart, is your name,
and, yes, fucked forever,
here and now,
you,
will somehow always remain



bowen hart roselli
30 march 2020
ringwald love

mouths lie, actions lie
be careful, please, who makes you cry
are they worthy?
are they right?
as in, the real version of them,
they say they are
land of wounded, thoughtless scars

integrity is
as who stands before you, was
"i'm just saying this, and acting, because"
you are this,
so i'm that too
too many don't know the sky, from blue

searching for a kindred
someone to build, this
a life, look back,
"it all began with"....

first hello,
and heart, locked eyes
depth and silence
no games, no lies

but we all play games,
"can't help it", but true,
prisoners, insecurities
once one sees right through

to the pain, the strain,
the fully exposed, vulnerability
god knows, you don't know the secrets within me

take a chance,
"at least you tried",
be careful, the wish, the risk,
you've died

once again, and twice, once more
every day aging, fearing what's in store
old and alone
never finding what you seek
existing, not living
there passes by,
yet another truly beautiful, but broken, dream

embodied in body
be it man, be it woman
something so rare, there is nothing to prove, then

very few listen, love
focus, if at all, very long
on anyone but "their stuff", themselves
so grow, the weak, in shame, hide, the strong

how many deride all the shallow, "the social"
never stop, soak in soul,
attention diverted,
only truly comfortable,
"the vacuous vocal"

yet then run to it,
like, it's the only reality "that fits"
souls and minds parceled, projected in bits
and reject the love,
standing there, in the flesh
that which

causes "the run", to stop,
feel and see
some, out there, do, actually get you
want nothing, "no take"
just the give, touched, so moved

as in actions and words
speak the softest, when true
combined, "takes time"
it's a process, slow
like "the ache" in "the grow"

up,
we once, wanted so bad to "be big"
then we get there and go,
"wait, is this actually it?"

where's all the heaven?
where's all the heart?
guess what, it takes risk
but most ruin, and betray,
of the art

to stick around
and stay for "the long"
haul, it's hard, and it's work
right the wrongs

inflicted on me, i feel it,
too, inflicted on you
so then multiply that,
and get conflicted, times two

easier, succumb,
back to alone
hiding hearts, hiding, homes
glamorizing the search,
the stoic, "it's always ends up better, and easier, on my own"

self imposed purgatory partners
we pick at the scabs and destroy what we've grown

to need, to want
for the ease of "the front"
that "it's all good", and
"it didn't hurt much"

somehow my kiss
on your forehead
as you cried, left it's touch

on me, in a way
felt remarkably human
just the thought, i just may, could have helped, given soothing

but it came to be, "the bleed"
me, you did not want to see
the bloom forward, blossom
alter "the feel", re-alignment of "we"

got it.
felt it.
you are at a distance now,
sadness swells, your "leave"
amongst the ownership of my own problematic
misbegotten, mispercieve

i now sift through the wreckage,
what part you, what part me?

both of us searching, and running
from something
but found ourselves
standing still,
pure moments fulfilled,
more "the bond",  less "the wanting"

for that "illusion out there"
for the reality, found
connective, guard down, reflective, brief, understandings, aware

in friendship, in kinship
every lasting memory
it builds, it bonds, it starts, from there

every lasting "anything"
it requires a mutual risk,
for reward
it demands, both stand
make the effort, fight the war
in the end, about trust
find you, safe, in me, all the more

and me, in you, too
that is called "our thing" true
but if not, then, search  clues
something in your silence,
questions me, unknowingly
there may be nothing left to prosper, our "improve"

yet i'm still here
it was the truth, this "endeared"
and believe me, it's not easy
to care this much, without fear

that all the yesterday hauntings
of hurt and wound, and turn away, strike again
but the experience, it happened
now just a lasting, lingering question

was it, is this, real, in the end?

you can say it wasn't
but that "something"
haunts me, touched,
what was it?

as "was", can be "is"
if not so scared, let's begin...

(my friend, my foe, if you run, we'll never know)




bowen hart roselli
30 march 2020
ringwald love

apocalypse, present, upon us
virus spreading,
deepening the "dead-in-head thing"
amongst the never were,
really very much alive
but now they're shitting
what little was left of them
decimated toilet paper aisles,
a symbolic reflection of their insides

heroic health care workers
fighting the only fight
that matters right now
all those god damned "super hero"
movies, guess what, that shit
it can't save us now

and what exactly is the only thing
aside from the goddess kitten,
that I care of, or am thinking. stupid thoughts, sideways of smitten?

I'm thinking about
the one thing, person
I am now, within, without

some astounding guy
who rapturous rebellion
makes me question everything
I thought a gave two fucks about

they say love finds you
when you least expect it
nothing could have told me
when I got in his car
the whispers were there,
although quite soon, I detected

something in
his silently unfathomable eyes
sadness, depth, light and hope
glowing frame
brought together, we
on some path, we found,
nothing but a mouse chase game
both seeking escape,
we found more of the same

or
when the right hand doesn't know
who the left hand, is trying to kill
"now go here, and now go there"
nothing was real,
except this man, made of feel

his face, the kind, that art had made
different angles, different facets
profile, film star, golden age
front view, fascinate
corner angle, broken babe
seeping with empathic, introspective
delicate rage

a rattler, railer
against society
it's demand to force a "credit card cage"
work and work and do it some more
all to climb imaginary ladders,
no afford

ability
"it's killing me",
he, or, I, or we,
who said it
entwined in the experience
destined to be a
"too bizarre to ever quite forget it"

remembrance
filled with disgust and the slow drip, divine
the majority, divine, came from him,
those electric, patriotic, "pop" proud eyes

filled with so much more
than he'd ever let on
part "red cross heart",
part well skilled con

artist
in the art
of playing the part
but only to the point
once his x ray eyes
had sized up every person and exit sign
in the joint

so many facets and furies,
deep inside
i slowly realized there was no "run", me, or hide

I could never be bored
he, the impossible to be, or allow
state, "ignored"

as on and on and on
he'd bestow
upon me
all that he felt, thought, knows

this, my friends,
is how love grows
something I'm not sure even
his wise/blind knows

wise in too many ways, to count
yet blind, to the affect,
his magnetic "man mount"

as in, 1+1, minus two, leaves zero
self destructive,
his ability to calculate, castigate
inner hero's

of heart,
for sacrifice,
on the alter, "mathematical"
contradicting all, inherent,
his "magical"

it must be perfect
as his perceptions, plans, laid out
or it's nothing at all
once the seeds bloom, sprout doubt

and so we drove,
til we ended up confined,
ultimately trapped together,
in the final act, both losing our minds

locked behind doors
as a plague began to spread,
musing on life, the wonder of death
strained by whores, "boss bitches",
ate "stupid" for breakfast,
and pussy and ass, all we could smell,
in the air, on their breath

but
amongst all the shit
and the strain of the stain
I found in him, love
more of care, give, less pain

more of me, sighs, "please don't ever leave"
not of "need", but the "feel right" receive
as in, my god, I just can't get enough,
be around him,
look and listen and dream and desire
as if I could finally see, a real stairwell,
"climb higher"

but then, I'm struck
this all, may be, just in me
I can't help the fact
my external shell
betrays the truth,
what it means, "what it seems"

but then it doesn't,
then again, it does

powerless to change it,
he will see and do, what he wants

a fire of simmer and sensual
and sweet
somehow, enveloped by him,
I feel strangely alive, real, complete

but two halves
must know, when the others'
found "home"
or else its, fuck you, and fuck me
self defined "trainwrecks" 
are well known, crush the "we"

as in collide and kill,
anything remotely too unplanned,
or, of the inner fears, "too close", real

irony everywhere,
fate, meet your mirror
from a man who loves external chaos
the tragedy of this,
couldn't be any clearer

could it turn to triumph?
maybe so, maybe not

but
"it's easier to ask for forgiveness,
than permission"

so then, he'll have to forgive me,
it wasn't me, he was searching
but it is me,

yes.
this "love him".

immeasurably.
unexpectedly.
of the "can't explain, can't escape, can't erase,"
vain, variety

not a garden I've ever seen grow
quite like this
but he already knows
because, this man, has the eyes
of a surgical physician

able to pinpoint and prod
with exquisite smile, and precision

paradoxically filled
with ever questioning indecision
until inner swells of anxious,
impatience, cause derision

then he bolts, in fits and jolts
of energy, energized
world, watch out

there is more to this man
than most could ever see,
his "about"

and so I came, beheld and fell,
slowly, unknowingly, under his spell

call me friend, or brother or cell mate,
the same
but for this unfathomable emotion,
like a lover, would die
I will not be ashamed,
there is no bleed, here, no blame

for all the secrets and answers,
reasons why, look

his eyes.

(ever changing, mercurial, soaked in soul, saw, first sight,
before any words ever needed to be spoken, light bright )

bowen hart roselli
27 march 2020
ringwald love

50 states
for 60 rapes
stars and stripes
for all the assaults, bruises, swipes

physical, verbal
mental, sexual
such is the fate, american fag
dickless, spineless, effete, ineffectual

at self containment,
self control,
"watch that wrist",
limp, and crossed legs,
"be a man and learn the role"
or else, be warned,
you're a used up hole

a vestibule, for abuse,
in endless,
normalized, "needy bitch"
the message, "you did this"

brought it, all on, and in, yourself
pedophiles, perverts,
jocks and jugheads
fucked with, and fucked,
in flurries of furious,
then basically, "better off",
left for dead.

but die, I didn't
just split apart,
for the game, "get back in it"
what's a tortured "twinkle toes" to do?
learn to only feel alive, when screwed.

it's called, the need to know
I was not invisible,
personalities, "paralaxed"
like a decimal, divisible

strange, the things,
a mind, estranged from the heart
will do, the lengths to be "loved",
horse, cart

as in, which one came, before the other?
was it the man down the block,
or the best friend of my brother?

trained, to take it all, no matter
how bloody and brutal,
the attempts to climb up the ladder

the one, reach the top,
you will finally be loved
the one, from the bottom,
says "climb me, a real man
would never give up"

but it's greased, like a whore pole
slide down, again, and again,
sell your soul

for another chance,
fallen, fractured romance
some bruised, battered, good bad boy
holds the key, coined "the dance"

that taunts and teases
"I think I could, be,
finally seen, understood"
but he turns away, just another illusion
delusional darling, me
don't you get it?, can't you see?
born to love, but drilled, like wood

"and this is how you walk and talk",
"and this is how you run, girl",
mocked

"and this is why you exist, suck cock"
"and this is why you are a door,
for the knock"

of every kind of man, imagined
but real, it's true,
things the lucky can't fathom

sick shit happens,
and "the twisted", stays
embedded within,
desperate, the need for escape

into a world
of "pretty boys and pretty girls",
"book of loved", like Susan sang
"heaven from earth", known
for those, all too familiar, "the hang"

of judgements, projections
denunciations, rejections
the utter lack of real humanity,
reflections

american fag,
american made
just a sissy, a tinker bell
for the easy slay, and the lay.

down
and out
and throw about

poke and prod
and probe, without

a second thought,
"whatever happened to him",
"I heard he was beaten and fucked,
some guy Jim"..

"no, I heard he wanted it, good,
just as a worthless american fag should"

whatever the probable "didn't happen",
conversation, could be
this american fag,
filled with stripes and stars
you'll never see

not in a world,
never truly safe,
to be me

so then, multiplied,
50 stated times,
this american fag,

forever, a prisoner,
of the heart,
lost his mind.

yes, I had, and have one, truth
remembrance, the love,
I experienced in youth

purity, tenderness
yet, twice, once, removed
spent ten lifetimes
trying to give, love, and prove

that me, and we, this "I", and all
was more than just a good fist
receptacle, for calls

in the secret of day
or the stripping, of night
some things remembered,
not forgotten, "in flight"

you never know
the seeds you sew
in the mind of another,
how they feed, how they grow

so,
this fag, made, america
shows

what comes around,
it cums, and goes

but still here, am I,
whether filled with imported
secrets and cries

cries I cry, to my "selves", alone
forever in search of a heart,
call me home.

it's not here,
not in america, or earth,
somewhere, some guy
could he still love me?,
see worth?

I guess we'll see,
fuck you, fuck me

this american fag,
tagged, already bought, sold

we'll see.



bowen hart roselli
29 march 2020
ringwald love

there comes a time
when you must face
your lack of importance
the strain, a humility, graced

to most that know,
and once knew, you
by the nature of reality
they have moved on, through

the "so many" or "some"
the "once they truly meant something", strives
as you drown in the drool
paraded, "look, my essentially unimaginative life"

technology betrays
the natural laws of letting go

with the ease of which, we can pretend
"connections, friendships"
never, really, came to an end

we bob and weave
self-deceive
language, an art, reduced
to imbecility, sheathed

sewn and stiched
thread (soul dead)
through each others' lives
making nothing, once something
like swingers bobbing for endless apples,
just rotted cores, seeds,
husbands, wives

without the necessity
of honesty
and just "the drain",
in vain

of energy and focus
best spent, elsewhere
this, now the land,
of everyone's looking
but nobody cares

keep those soulfully, close to you, closer
learn to decipher
when something, someone, is over

know your place
with those in your orbit
and do not forget
don't delude, deny, or ignore it

you are nothing
that special
to most, just a host
to "pleasantries",
all "talk and tease"
this endless sea
of "it's all about me"
as the plague, it reigns
called "A.D.D."

affecting you,
infecting me
as the "we", now pimped
land of little felt and even less, for free

it takes a memory, to be remembered
that's a lot of effort
for most brains, here, dismembered

from swipes and scrolls,
"millisecond likes"
false image projections
and "shit mouth" trolls

for each and every,
this bullshit, levied
will one day, take it's toll
but you have to be bought,
in order to be sold

to the game, to the act
to the endless "love you's",
amongst titles and stats

like a "well cum-ed" mat
that was never really there
just try, "strong and silent"
and never drift, from "aware"

and do not stray
from the very few
who live, with heart
a "put before me", called "you"

as in, "actually care"
and with effort and action
like walking on nails,
shoes, without any traction

to get to you,
if the need is true
this, the definition
of what i mean, "very few"

less "self", more share
amongst the danger
in the "darling" of dare

stripped bare,
savaged,
for the rape, for the ravage

all for the propagate
of "all i want, i take," have it

but hell,
like they say
endlessly, dead-fully
in this place, of covered up, with "cliche"

"life's not fair",
like a tossed of prayer
the question remains,

do you really care?

of course most don't
and that's ok
i own my shit
and hide, inside, my shame

the scars of betrayal
well taught, well trained

to the natural laws,
drought, rain

slain,
by love
and only here, for a few

my heart, it knows
who they are

do you?


bowen-hart roselli
11 january 2020
ringwald love

aware of my death
as i'm aware of my life
i'd do anything
just to be
a towering man's wife

but i'm not a girl
just like I'm not a boy
caught, somewhere in between
so i became, just a toy

fucked, by myself
trapped in fear and self loathing
mind, shaped, "in splits"
mode, escaping and roaming

prone to dreams without becoming
and a need for the numbing
of all the pain, trapped deep within
i learned that to care,
is the end, in begin

do you know what it's like
to love so deeply, divine?
to feel the presence of a beauty
that makes you sob, touched,
inside

i've felt it for him
and ive felt it for her
a god, last of "tyler"
and a goddess, named terah
all walls, ego, conscious
fell away, heart, stripped bare of

all the worries and woes
all the trappings and throws

of word defenses
and pride, pretenses

such is the gushing
of a thirst, when it quenches

the desire for "real"
and the "behold" in the feel
a voice so divine, it sent shivers,
the spine

to live for the bleeding,
heart, so moved,
"please be mine"....

but not in the way
that the common would perceive
a sexless sensuality,
more "the gift", less deceive

no reason to lie,
when all you want,
"let me love you"

let me experience you,
bathe in you, sing to you
sweet stranger, you

stranger, in the fact
you too, without "act"
so actualized, your honest eyes
like paradise found,
in a landscape of lies

freedom will be,
when i'm finally removed
of all language and labels
all "why?" theories, unproved

no one knows anything
least of all me, "i'm just here"
and the reason for that
something never quite clear

"bored, desperate, lonely"
he calls me,
he, my brilliant
brutality based, realist,
makes me think, listen, feel it

all the things, i don't want to face
just a "tragedy whore",
more, "the gone", less "the grace"

of someone using time,
"in the wise",
always the one reaching,
but never winning, "the prize"

in the end,
the one that matters the most
would you rather feed,
"the servant",
or can you finally grow,
"the host"?

as in, the face inside,
responsible, your life
even if, all you died for,
to be someones devoted,
"do the dishes", draped wife

living with dreams
that may never come true
is the point,
i have them,
tell me, the secret,
what, those, you?

"the you", is "i"
and the shame, on me
all the wasted time,
"non-wonderfuls"
the older you get,
the more the "bullshit blunders",
get dull

but for those, not mistaken
not forgotten, forsaken

i know, not a waste, but
the timeless, in taken

to a place, for a moment
my hearts' blood, did i own it
this was me, most alive
and most true

both sides, somehow together,
tied, moved

to just finally be
alive, in the loving
no fear of the future,
no "because", just becoming

the valentine, the victor
fuck "the scale",
judged, "the richter"

no one noticed,
it was me,
doesn't matter,

no one's looking, or cares
there,
the "semi-happily"

ever after.



bowen hart roselli
8 november 2019 ringwald love

why i hate the holidays,
not the holidays themselves,
as if assigned to remembrance
one day only, "the auto-mode hell"

"these are the doors, these are the hallways",
reminders of things,
we should remark,
remember,
in the allowance of always....

every day is a valentine
for the ones' you adore
beyond yourself,
and not just "the sleepwalked"
so obvious, "please kill me"
cheap syllables, sentenced, "happy happy", i abhor

all you "oh so lucky ones"
so blind, in your selfish, little worlds
of well paid careers, botoxed bodies, minivans carrying
your god forsaken zombie-privileged
monster-in-the-making, boys and girls

technology tainted
aka, "brain dead"
you've trained them to froth
like your perfect latte'
for social media "likes"
only alive, on the camera,
for without, it's a "not" day

as in
it can't be real
if it's not filmed
and it can't be felt
if not exploited and shared
with the "who the fuck are you?",
"just glorify me", everyone else

everyday is valentines
if you carry love in your heart
as in, be fucking human
to those around you, "social climbers", its a dying art

one that demands you realize
you are not, a god damned star
just because you think so
welcome to the age of
spoiled rotten entitlement scars

that's all they are
vestibules pussing, nothing but ego
opinion wars and blinders on
if not "social media influenced",
then the rest, what do we know

nothing, of course
if not followed by so many
so many, just as drained as you
of humility, intimacy
like a body-blind screw

fuck it, plow it, pummel it,
to boneless
if we're gonna live as narcissists
at least we gotta own this

that the camera, turned on self
is now the god, we worship,
define, inner wealth

and nothing is,
if its not being filmed,
the latest meaningless fuck,
the latest laugh-tracked kill

"applause, applause",
with an easy-baked affirmation
screw complexity and nuance,
real thought, it brings that
"my head hurts" sensation

and that's not "hot"
and that's not pretty
and it wont get you loved
by the "no one", called many

so just keep on,
delusion, self importance

this is why i hate the holidays,
i thought, the heart of human,
it could be more than this...

told.

when to care, called pretend, all around
when to acknowledge others,
but not really, clock rewound

back to, "ahead",
faster, faster
we, the consumed, walking dead
onto the next,
before even living in, what's called this moment, now bled...

everything,
for the excuse, such abuse
and everything more
for the "offended",
"poor me, affected, and victim"
juiced, blended

so after the reminder,
set to "now lets all think and lets all pray"
lets get back to the truth,
disembodied, disemboweled ways

the one who is "loved"
is the one who plays
as the one, most the liar,
is the one who is praised

not that i would know,
on "left over cock", i was raised
just a "latch key kid"
better done, as in "did"

but i learned to survive,
in the dream, "one day thrive"
and it may have never happened
but to give love, i tried
non "holidayed", futility fought
the beginning, i learned, is always the end

but know this, please
from the ever tortured by hope, ripped away, tease
i knew christmas, once he came
and it was down on a pair
of well equipped,  bruise born knees

and his name wasn't santa
and his name, not "saint nick"
just some asshole, in "creepy cute"
with a throbbing gift, not a heart
but a prick

i learned to pull up my pants,
block it out
and just get on with it.

life,
as i knew it
not a holiday, "hallmarked"
but a quest to love
passionately,
in a world
called few, if any,
really give a shit.

(i found them)

thank god.
or I would not be alive
my tribe, my angels,
the "up fucked" beautifuls

and

I found this,
for a visionary friend,
real joy, not a holiday,

but the light, electric
filled, his alive, excited, hopeful
childlike eyes

(I did feel them)

and I knew, for a moment,
that
I'm still alive.



bowen hart roselli
7 november 2019  ringwald love