"But C.B. where'd your essay go?" ~ No one

Not too long ago, maybe a month at this point, I posted an essay of sorts that wasn't about anything in particular but about everything in a lot of ways. I called it "A Digression of Everything: An Essay". Well, today I took it off the site because I personally thought it muddied the water of the point of this blog. Though the real point of this blog is to get my writing out there and have a place where I can freely post whatever I want. BUT I DIGRESS.
It's down. I think it clears up the main page. If you'd like to see it shoot me an email and I can send it to you or i'll post it under the poetry page or a separate page...actually....

NEW PAGE.

So there's a new page as of now.
This page will contain all my essays, short stories and stuff like that.
This post took a turn for the productive.

Godspeed,
C.B.

I Could Have Used This Song A Year Ago And I Need These People Like I Need A Malady.

My estranged faults

I’m gone,
I’m sick and because of this

My mind
A wall of my own

You let your wall down

And I’m staying on mine

Way up, I can’t hear you

Above this atmosphere

And veil of desertion with a broken moon.

I’m hurting you,

Not helping, no solution
I must be the problem.
I’m sorry, this estrangement and

I’m letting my troops down

A general with quaking knees.
I’m sorry,
The war needs me now.

And I salute you soldier.

We Need No Proper Ending, That Would Mean That This Meant Something.

*Too Bad It's Not My Turn.

Positively 8 Ball

On the house,

Beers with a failing marriage.

A sitcom tagline,

Bar room scrawling

On a napking you’re too drunk to carry.
And writers have tablets

Their minds and a head

That carries mistakes,
Love, words & a high back to bed.
Retail insomnia

Doesn’t replace

The remembrance of the

Pre, post war high

I was clean up until now

Which is yet another lie

I’ve been positively 8 ball

 A poet metaphorically high.

And self-aware,

Cynically, self-mocking a rhyme.
I’m forgettable

I pounded into my skull,

Until I used up what sanity made that so.
I’m ignored and useless
Selfish  poet,
Pity partier

Table for one

I said I was self-mocking

And self destructively

Introspectively stubborn

Inferiority

Superiority complex.

I look back at my first words.
And how much I’ve erased

Faith,

You put too much away

Into attics & trunks

And cliché hiding places,

I’ve become
Positively 8 ball
This poem has no ending.
                                                           

Godspeed & Goodnight
C.B.

I'm tired of who I am.