sometimes stay and sometimes go
sometimes yes and sometimes no
sometimes fucked, and sometimes,
"fuck you"
always though, you inside me, true

often lost and often found
often surfacing and often drowned
often left and often right
always, longing, hold you tight

never sure and never wrong
never weak and never strong
never fear and never free
always here, why can't you see?

daily done and daily didn't
daily open and daily hidden
daily sleeping and daily awake
always ready, for you, your partake

usually here and usually not all there
usually truth, and usually dare
usually sexual and usually platonic
always, to please you, yes, i am on it

seldom seen and seldom unnoticed
seldom known and seldom unknown, this
seldom silent and seldom voiced
always, in adoration,
you leave me no choice

unusually bound and unusually free
unusually you and unusually me
unusually pouring and unusually plugged
always, yes, for you,
blind man,
filled with love.



bowen hart roselli
8 july 2020
ringwald love

i don't get it
cuz i don't get it
cuz i can't forget it
so i never win it
cuz i don't get it...

from dog to doormat,
the blink of an eye
from interested to "outta here"
another dick, another guy

another love, walks past me, by
cuz i just don't get it
this thing called life

it's all a game, and how you play
determines if you're a "leave" or "stay"
determines if you,
the stamina to succeed
at the buffet where the beautiful feed

cuz their the ones
with the security of money
and the ability to line up
the latest "honey"

fit the mold, you'll get the gold
buy all the lines, and do as you're told
be whomever they need you,
the moment
land of hypocrites, chameleons
if you're a "you, that" , then own it

hypocrisy reigns
and few are complaining
if it gets you the "get there"
in the "good for you!" gaining

of all it is, that matters here now
plenty of cash equals plenty of pussy
equals plenty of pandered to,
equals plenty of power

could be substituted for ass,
if you're gay, bi, or "do anyone"
could be substituted for cock.
if your one of those women,
too often seen as "fuckin' hot",
but no fun

domineering cunts
out for power and control
they got it, get it
as in, get the shit done
just dildo themselves
instead of wasting their energy
on caring, finding, "the one"

cuz "love" cums and goes
this day and age, a commodity sold
cuz the ones that don't get it
never read the book,
or paid attention, were told

the first to be slaughtered,
fed to "the gang"

heart of gold.

"look here bro's and bitches, alike
this one's ready and damn dude,
quite ripe"...

cuz they don't get it
so we gotta show 'em

"hey, lets play that game, called
toss em and throw em"...

fun, fun, fun
as the sun sets on another day,
heart done

not "won",
not cherished,
but primed, for the perish
cuz if you haven't gotten it by now,

if real treasure lies in you,
character, honesty, love
better guard it with your life
cuz few, if any,
could care more than even slightly less

that's my best hope positive guess
from one who didn't get it
'til way too late in the game to impress
and in many ways i still don't
which leaves me more, a wilting "won't"

unless i fight like hell to change
hide my "damaged divine"
amongst all this "derange"

i don't get
cuz i don't get it
cuz i can't forget it, (love)
so i never win it, (life)...

cuz i don't get it.


bowen hart roselli
19 july 2020
ringwald love 

there is no pleasing
those who can't be pleased
there is only teasing,
those who live for "the tease"

as in taunt and provoke
for the reaction they seek
why is it to be vulnerable, of heart
is always seen as pliable and weak

manipulate,
covers woman and man
stand up, stand strong,
stand "something",
just stand

as in take one, now
or take a seat
be destined for a life
on perpetual repeat..

mistakes, like maulings
unheeded callings
to walk, a different path,
your own
be care, the lustful longings,
deep moans

the crevices, cracks
in your psycho-sexual pavement
to crawl on all fours
there is a high price, taxed payment

taxing all your reserves, your energy
you'd yes, sell your soul
for "the one", psychic synergy

that manifests magic,
seeps madness, the same
the tragedy, knowing it's out there
and just maybe,
even knowing his name

no shame, no blame
an end to the endless, infinite
passive aggressive,
"line reading" games

as in reading between lines,
are they there?
unfortunate, the power games played
always one left standing
over another, stripped bare

pathologies played out
crossing boundaries, each others place
amongst the sun, a sea of stars
you'd give anything,
his trusted face

for whom real belong
is no longer a matter of
"pray, pine for, and long"
it just is, found reality
the gift, the gold
in each other's arms,
soul strong

both seen, both actualized
naked limbs and love soaked eyes
this isn't an auction, for charity, prized
no "highest bidder", for the bitter,
despised

this is the universe aligning
and aligning, for good
two hearts, not carved,
not manufactured, of wood

not fabricated for the forcing,
another
to play out pathologies
predicated on the preying of others

it seems we all are slaves
to each others' misbegotten ways
the lover loves
and the player plays

sick and saddened,
slain by the game
just deliver me, desire less
then, if all "this" is about,
the need to control, without soul
and to maim, swells of shame

reciprocation
is right, like release
of all the wrongs
we've been wronged by,
the sheets

laid upon and laid down,
for "the using",
prettier, in the pink than the blue
and black, of the mind fuck,
the "capture/kill", bruising

purity is without motive, ulterior
no hidden agenda's
beneath the exterior
of a beautiful face
you cannot seem to forget, erase

for whom no one else
can take his place
to be seen, in equal
the film in final, no need, thought, sequel

you'd surrender it all,
for this realization,
"home",
the engulfing, electric
faultless, flawed, pure

embrace.

a safe place to surrender and drown
and somewhere, in secret
you feel as though...you've been found.

(in him)....


bowen hart roselli
21 july 2020
ringwald love

some strange silence enters
and then i realize
i've been alone this whole time

fits and flourishes
of heart and mind
that make me feel
i have encountered my own kind

for a beautiful, blissful
moment
fleeting
and then the hunger
for it's return
repeating

patterns and processes
of heart and mind,
shivers, same
waking up to, yet again
the falling rain

his incredible smile
incredible isn't good enough
but the words fail me,
so i search within, for miles

that smile
i miss it
his ebullient innocence
wandering, i would wait, still, forever
to see it, exuberant, before me
again, sweet him

forward
no past
no need for "gifts of man"
just his stand

next to me
needing nothing more
than his electric innocence
in moments i would sell my soul
to return to, aware
amongst him, within him
the treasure, our together

there is, and was
so much unspoken

left to explore...


bowen hart roselli
31 may 2020
ringwald love

transcendent states of being
isn't that what everyone
is searching for, needs?

an other to call us
towards a journey, unknown
dare us down a path,
have the courage to see where it leads

something, somewhere,
someone to wake us
out of our sleep,
truly see us, covet
and "not again", forsake us

"what is it they say about a trip?",
he said..
"half the fun is getting there"..
all i know, is there is no one else
to make all the lights,
somehow suddenly turn on,
I'd give anything to sit amongst
his "dream delivering" stare

possessing something,
possessed then, here, me
as if everything
i placed meaning, before
somehow now,
doesn't mean, a fucking thing

not in the way it used to, at least
like the prayer hungry, thirsty
for a towering, tenderhearted priest

like the detached attached
to a drive for release
caged and displaced, proper place
wild woods, freed

selfless, a sacred state, capable of
but only for the exceptional,
a place inside, a wellsprings of love
he is that for me, immeasurably
it is nothing i planned,
like the "please", pleased
without pause, in pleasurably

to even feel that here,
this land of fear death,
so as not to live life
such a gift, the gift in me, he
moments without questioning
everything, his reaction, inside
how can i love him, enough,
like I've died

only to find, i haven't really lived
not in twelve lifetimes,
until his inspire, all to give

because i am human,
and skinless, underneath
so sick of the limits, the labels
like the same old avenues, streets

walked down and walked through
nothing electric, nothing new

until the day he showed up, in a car
"just some guy", filled,
a universe of stars
that i couldn't have known,
would change everything,
alter my inner world,
enlighten the scars

lightning, they say,
"never strikes twice"
so he only had to strike once,
take a chance, roll the dice

"because, if not,
what is living, then, for?"
asks the man for whom
the meaning, here, found

unwavering love
as in, bound to
in a boundless state
of transcendent adore.

(a belonging like the "be" in become,
an ever expanding universe
of thought, feeling, experience, care, beyond one)



bowen hart roselli
10 july 2020
ringwald love

it's a feelings free-for-all
let's have one, ok?
and have a ball...

stomping, stepping,
smashing 'em to bits..
like feelings were laxatives
and we've all got the shits...

as in no one gives a fuck
what you feel
that's just life,  just part of the deal
it's a "me first" world
filled with selfish boys 'n girls
what is it they say
about swine before pearls?

oops, that's in, reverse,
my mistake,
so beat me, good please
all my feelings, for you to partake

the ones called "worthless",
"less than", "dumb"
abuse, built tough,
now it makes me cum...

all the words, so demeaning, wrong
get me hard, salivate my "strong"
need to be put in a place, i understand
topped off with the whip,
creamed, your back hand

stricken, struck
like the mind, is a fuck
one that drills me, deeper, into you
all the feelings you own, yes It's true

the one's quite good,
that are twisted as bad
loyalty, love,
turn me, happy to sad

that for some reason,
they leave me last on your list
a lifetime of this, trains one good,
"take a fist"

'cuz at least that's honest
and "makes me a man"
tough enough to sit on, not hold,
your hand
built for a bruising
and a conditioned reaction,
enthusing!

primed and chimed,
my bell rung, "good for using"

but even better for believing,
the more you've mastered
the art of deceiving

I'm all heart, for "the give",
you're receiving
and "all crawl", for the bone, thrown
retrieving

the one you offer,
that you dangle, just enough
that says, when you feel like it
you kinda like me, "'n stuff"

illusions of something more,
like "care"
watch me do anything,
take every risk, every dare..

this feelings free-for-all
i was born, made,
quite aware...

that real love, with depth
and soul, heart, it is rare..

so i set out to be,
all the things, that were lost on me..
kind, considerate, thoughtful, you see?

in a moment, a heartbeat
you can lift, make someone's day
just by being genuine,
speaking of things that the others'
won't say

compliments, praisings
sung, sweet, with soul
while too many, called "most"
are far too busy playing
the "bullshit speak" role

as in "blah, blah, blah"..
it all means nothing
with very few willing
to call all the bluffing...

hollow words, hollow ears
hollow smiles, hollow tears...
hollow truth, hollow eyes
hollow sex, hollow thighs..

the feelings free-for-all
it's real, not a lie
many come to trample,
and few stop, look back, why?

cuz that requires empathy
with a heaping dose, responsibility
the realization that "you"
matters to "me"
and can form that thing,
so scary, feared, worse than death,
called "we"...

but that requires too much effort,
here and now,
too much focus, "weird",
what's that all about?

"must be something wrong with him"..
to truly give a shit now,
damn, the outlook is grim..

so grab it, stab it,
fuck it, made
the feelings free-for-all
it "just is"
one, the same

I'm only responsible for mine
so, "fuck you"

and with that simple statement,
brutal truth,

done,
I'm through....

(as in "done" by one and all, then you,
the one i voted "most unlikely to"...
do me, the way you've done, in the end,
no, not that one,

it's just the feelings-free-for-all,
feeling,
once again.....)

but the feeling, underneath
is the feeling,
believe in you, always
your light, the fight...

no matter what...

'til the end.


bowen hart roselli
15 july 2020
ringwald love

straight is straight
gay is gay
bi is bi
oh me, oh my

but
what happens
when you blur those lines?
welcome to these sad, s.a.d.d. times
soulful attention deficit disorder
narcissi reigns, distorted, damaged
all of our minds

melded into our sex selves too
be careful gramma,
cuz they're cumming for you...

if your cookies, baked
have any real focus, not faked
they'll smell 'em coming
from a mile away
be right there, at your front door
turn you into a "baked bitch" whore

think your "too old",
this happen to you?
"alive and breathing"
qualifies you,
if you've got a soul,
 a "semi-sweet morsel"
of chips, white or chocolate, your screwed

because, these days
it, has nothing to do, with "who"
the emptiness is everywhere
and so are the fucked, "the did",
and "the blew"

lil' punkin' pie filled eyes
from an easy bake oven
they'll win ya first prize
at the bake sale, charity, surprise!
a take home basket of cock
between thighs

cuz, come on gramma,
or barely legal girl, boy
we're all now,
hardly bothered, seen
above and beyond
"means to an end" wind up toys

so all the labels and definitions
in the world
"ultra progressive garbage"
cannot cover what has happened,
unfurled

a society on high,
all "me", all "my"
feed me, fill me
"pathologically positive" lies

that delude me, deeper
"this one's a keeper"
careful, they just might be
the grim reaper

of integrity, truth and trust,
the soul
in a sad, s.a.d.d. world
most here now,
just gaped, "gone" holes

and that "brotherhood of man",
where did they go?
the "straight" ones, to the woods
to jack each other off, with a quick blow,
just so ya know...

cuz no label now
means a god damn thing,
when attention, soulful
from anyone, is in deficit
the "issues", cum forth

you "cop a feel" what i mean?


bowen hart roselli
16 july 2020
ringwald love

wish i could've joined the military
but back in my day,
they wouldn't let in
"the limp wristed", like me

wish i could've,
'cuz now more than ever
that level of discipline, taught, i respect
land of inconsistent insanity
is the only consistent, one can expect

all this bullshit,
"no expectations"
especially when it comes
to human relations

i expect a lot,
cuz i expect a lot from myself
and my expectations of others,
minimal, real wealth..

just mean what you say
and say what you mean
if not, please,
just don't say a fucking thing

another "catch phrase",
from where, "dr. phil"?
makes me wanna swallow
a bottle of pills

"no one owes you anything",
i call bullshit, hear me out,
"my thing"...

yes, technically true,
in absolute, absolutely
but what happened to character,
honor?, resolutely..

abandoned, discarded, in a land of "me first"
seems things are now, in permanent reverse
people "at their best", are now at their worst..

real friends,
you think you've made
disappear
"no nothing", no text back
the only clear, is unclear

people pop in and out
of our lives, like it's nothing
a quick text every six months or more
is like sending a bouquet of flowers,
your front door

no real effort, no real care
but "i love you", really?
if even that, quite "the rare"

that we're all too used to,
and using such convenience
of ease, communication
to feed off each other,
"nothing too real", of effort
means, "we mean it"

dating apps, while taking craps
"hey, what's up"
and nothing after that..

yeah, grand scheme,
not that big a deal
but it all adds up to wasted
brains, time, less "feel"
and all of us enslaved and numb
to the "knowing" nothing matters,
but it does

because
what i do and say
affects you
even if you won't admit
it's true
even if you don't care
very much
even if
were not joined at the hip
starsky, hutch

if you allow me, communication
it should mean you value reciprocation

and I'm not saying
it's a must, "instant gratification"
we all have times, shit going on,
realizations..

busy-ness and other priorities
but no reason to cave to the
"selfish bullshit" majority

of don't bother, "get back"
cuz you "don't owe me anything"
a true thought, or true friend,
yes, i do, amongst the many things

that truly don't matter,
like all the phony, garbage chatter
that surrounds us all,
multi-media soaked,
all the wasteful distractions,
that keep us closed off and roped..

into the "new normal"
follow through, real tending to, dead
now all of us, reading between lines
filling in blanks, thinking it's all
in our head...

and often, it is
simplicity, it's as dead as a dish
served up cold and served up sour
"faster, faster, faster",
tick the minutes,
our lives, and hours..

so yes, i owe those closest to me
the ones that stick around, and see
me as valuable,
bring some "matter" to their life
cuz too many out there
bring little, but a knife

to take a piece, a chunk,
then leave
with the ease
of a soft summer breeze

that's not what I'm here to do,
so fuck you,
to all that allow the decay of character,
honor, integrity
to be true

if i say i love you
and you are a true friend
I'm gonna give it my best
stick it out, til the end

doesn't mean I'm perfect
and expect back, exactly same
but it means when you reach out
it means something
and i won't play games

with you, your heart,
your worth, your attention
upon me, it means something
so I'll try my best,
and break with convention

that all around, evidenced
friends, connections
don't mean a lot more
than just above, below shit

and that's not me,
feel free, "crazy", call me
but the only consistency
has to come from me

so in a world of inconsistency
if i let you in,
that dying thing, called a heart
you have my word,
typed, sung, or spoken, the art

consistency, consistently
you will get it, however flawed,
but i will be there, and i owe you that
for loving, caring,
reaching out, remembering me

you'll see...
you saw,
those still around me,
consider me close
no matter my many screwed up flaws

that's just how it goes, when real
that's what i thought, was part of the deal
a deal that's been devoured by technology
and bullshit, the true meaning of "divine"
now, consistency and the natural flow of importance, velocity

that lies at the heart and soul,

reciprocity.


bowen hart roselli
22 july 2020
ringwald love 

trying to do the best i can
to be a semi-decent, considerate man
i'd be that too, if i were a woman,
some souls, here, are worth the proving

that "matter", yes, it really does
world of jaded, exhausted, was
once a place, we all, were kids
dreams, like skies, big, made a wish

upon the stars, we all did, once
before we "grew up",
found masks as "fronts"
to protect ourselves, a world of danger
called "fuck you, what do you want?,
you're a stranger"

because we've all been taken and took
hooked and booked and sadly mistook
by a society that pretends
"we're all one"
then demands you assimilate
or you're "no fun"

i once was one of the "popular kids"
did anything, everything
like patrick bateman, to "fit in"
and we all know what happened to him
went "american psycho",
killed again and again

or did he?
could've been all in his head..
"don't stare at it, eat it", as in pussy,
he said
he said a lot, that actually made sense
an outsider on the inside
and no matter what he did,
they barely seemed to remember him

sure, what he said,
left to the voices inside his head
thoughts that some of us get, relate
introverts, oddballs, those prone
to an averse to society,
"outsider" state..

so how did i, go from "popular" to not
some evils, they cannot be forgot
three friends, yes guys
decided one day
to go from "like" to "damned", despise
and tell everybody i was gay,
junior high

back then it wasn't a playground
of "embrace"
shit like that, was the "the scarlet letter",
with an "h"
as in hated, avoided,
spread like wildfire
obliterated, any chance to be
"one of them", "the admired"

i went from "inner circle"
to "circle jerk" full,
of "dicked around", mocked,
laughed at, beaten
utterly humiliated, banished
defeated

the worst part?
i never did, said anything
to those guys
about my inside, "guy love" thing
problem was, i just wasn't "right"
enough for them,
so destroy me, they tried

but all it did
was split me apart
and i road that train
like a work of art

"fuck you, one
and fuck you, all"
the pretty little "perfects"
who stomped on me, laughed
as they watch me fall

i had no friends,
i had no one, at all
and it's here i found
a new avenue, it's call

away from "the crowd"
and to "the few", i found out
were just being themselves, god forbid
freaks and "crazy ones",
those on "the fringe",
looking out, at "the in"

the truly profound,
intelligent and wise
the ones with the lonely sadness,
etched deep in their eyes

because this place
isn't as pretty, as it seems
for as many pure dreams,
there are those of ulterior motives
and schemes

navigating it all, can be quite rough
gotta stay strong inside,
on the outside, walls tough

tricky, "the try",
who to sense, safe, "let in"
fear, betrayal of intimacy
from the latest "love" or new friend

that's why i take it so serious,
too much, to the point of "out of reach, touch"
better off to be elusive, mysterious
with a hint of stand-offish allure, learned experience
like the ones I'm always drawn
the perfect opposite to my
"fall on my knees for and fawn"

as in gush over, glow
little hidden, heart on sleeve, shown
because i am not like that, with most
i try to be nice, but I'm detached,
removed, remote

the ones that make me work,
earn their love
once let in, like heaven
gift of a lifetime, from above

because they're the ones
i wish i could be like, am not
so back to the beginning
before the point is forgot...

trying to be a semi-decent, caring man
in a place, i so often, can't stand
we put each other, through hell,
and for what?

"work, work, work"
enslaved to schedules, "things"
and bank accounts stuffed

"i guess it's their way of floating
through this void, our reality",
a too wise for this world, man, recent, said
he, of the thinking, fearless mentality

it's inspiration of mind
and those touching, truly kind
that keep me trying,
while often filled with "give up",
can't wait, dying

yes, we all once, were kids
when all that mattered were dreams,
freedom, imagination, having friends

(and just maybe,
finding a lasting love, true
said the little boy, forever dancing,
a "valentine heart", love filled eyes,
through and through)


bowen hart roselli
22 july 2020
ringwald love

the weight of you
on me, is mine
the loss of you,
the passage of time

the two of us
in a room, trapped together
each with war wounds, lost dreams,
lived, before our endeavor

truth is only known, if revealed
scars are stars,
if released, salved, healed
all i am, is what i feel
and to those who inspire it,
the real magic, i kneel

but i, in the end, am alone inside me
long ago realizing, i will never be free
not while trapped,
this psyche, this skin
and so the long, slow march,
to my end, did begin...

twisted is, as "touched" becomes
the runner walks, the walker runs
towards a sun, a storm, an "other"
the comfort, chaos
of a brother, a lover

as that's what friends are, to me,
this bizarre
being, I'm aversive,
this "soul", "me"
so far...

away from "the normal",
I'm removed from myself
as if narrating a life
that doesn't belong to me,
but somebody else

yet there is no one here,
but me, this "my own"
and nowhere, "long haul"
have i found it, a home

I've tasted it, touched it
made love to, and fucked it
but when nightfall descends
there is no one else,
enamored of me, in equal, again...

friends are lovers
and lovers are gods
because i felt something so real,
so beautiful, heart fought

all the moments, head cocked the sky
detached, destroyed, as to "connect" is to fly
and like miracles, they appeared
beyond all the thinking, the questions
of "why"..

but none, could i claim
as my own, woman, man
like sex, but beyond
drenched in divine,
just simply being near them,
holding, split second, their hand...

is "together" just a teenage dream?
land of wounded, wanderlust extremes
is any "one" or feeling, thought, real?
built upon the alter of a heart
born to steal...

stolen, given, ripped out, compelled
regardless, this, "the fall", where i fell
upon the "knowing" i did feel alive
"love myself", while loving you so much
in your glance, your glow,
like the divine in "derive"

inspiration, insight, intelligence
immeasurable
amongst all the, "all the rest"
devoid of depths,
electric or pleasurable

i felt it, shared it, told it, the tale
the one, yes i loved you
and felt it without question or fail

then the return to earth,
from the skyward you inspired
those moments,
could i stay there forever?
if only this body, this being, rewired

to be the one
for yes, that day, did finally come
signed, sealed, delivered
a heroic "belong to you", done

you'd see me, as i saw you,
so powerful
right time, right place
the universe aligned in the allowable

girl or boy
or boy or girl
we wander here wanting what?
i cannot tell you, I'm not really here
in full, meant for this world

as what i see and what i feel
never quite matches up
to another's truth, what is real

so fire, walk with me
as i question
all the madness, magic
within, and without
split soul, second guessing..

why things come, seem to always go
the moments with you
i never wanted them to end
and would tear off each limb,
to live them, yes, once again

as if you didn't, already know
forever etched, here,
this heart,
blessed and bloodied
and, in fight, fearless, found
this timeless attempt here, to show..

you.

(alone)



bowen hart roselli
20 july 2020
ringwald love