America Art Earth Heaven poetry



From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—
Then—in my childhood—in the dawn
Of a most stormy life—was drawn
From ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still—
From the torrent, or the fountain—
From the red cliff of the mountain—
From the sun that ’round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold—
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by—
From the thunder, and the storm—
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view—


The Idea Of March

It is The Idea.

It is The Way, Forward Home.

This is Now The Way.

America Blog Earth Epic I Free Speech Heaven Hell News poetry politics Politics Story


Black Lives Do Matter.

Black Lives Will Always Matter.

This Is Always So.

Blog poetry

I Can’t Really Explain

No, I won’t go. No, I won’t start. I won’t hit you with these boosted platinum bars.

I won’t cheat you, I can’t rhyme, so now I’m really just waisting my time.

I can rhyme yes, but really am I spelling every word right?

I betchu think I wanna walk up to you and just fight.

But naw, I’m chillin’, and it’s poetry. That’s not the line.

I’ve got to build a better future so that I’ll be fine.

I’ve only entered into the world when everything is new.

Or maybe chances that I take will follow on pursuit,

to days when I should try to make my every single moment right,

or when I couldn’t tell if I could walk or I could fly.

But whose been thinking about the way I rhyme, or spelling errors?

It’s college fool, so when you cross the line I bare the cross yea.

I’m cooler than you think, but its cool, just you think.

And fix my errors, or melody your style, yea choose your fate.

America Blog poetry politics Speech Story Uncategorized

this, beautiful, Spring

And the roses were in bloom.

And everything was now of a magical creation.

But was it real? Could it be?

Was it the massive feeling of everything happening at once?

Or was it a dream?

How real could one feeling be?

To walk amongst with everything that’s everything that’s real,

to feel the essence magnified and amplified to see,

To grow again. To come again, to trace the simpliest feeling.

TO understand the feeling, it grows so much Beyonder.

In a dream, casted out to dispell, just a world of another realm.

The game of all games.

The Passion of the distance.

The Mercy, of the Christ.

Everything becomes absolute in time, as it dissolves into matter and escalates a Rhythm beyond the end of games.

THe best of dreams.

The Best of All.

Brandon Builder.


The Stone

As I muster May.

Born, to be the One True King

Soon, the day will come.


Inner Peace

Now begins the shift

towards peace in existence

and tranquility.



As the snow begins

To fall onto the cold ground,

Let us pray for love.

Blog poetry

In a Moment’s Glance

Inspiring me.

Her words led to this moment.

In a moment’s glance.

America poetry

The High Moments.

The Very low moments.

The ones that take forever. The ones that last forever.

The moment is took to tie your shoes.

The thoughts of that moment.

The moment before a job interview.

The moment before you turn your key.

The time it time to wake up, and the moments before bed.

The moment right after your worse thought,

and worse day, and worse year.

The moment after you’re child was born.

The moment after he died.

The moment you cannot remember, but it was the last time you saw your father.

Your final moment.