Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Learn Nothing

Somewhere there’s a fire burning
somewhere there are wedding bells ringing
everywhere else nobody was paying attention.

I’m having visions of a bed where no one sleeps
close my eyes, vast oblivion consumes my mind
for a second it doesn’t matter what anything means.

Open up my eyelids
Welcome back chaotic
Hard to believe anyone could get enough of this
Been long enough now,
guess I’ll never wise up.

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Listlessly Looking For Nothing In Particular

nothing to look for
nowhere to look
curiosity can’t kill the indifferent

searching is pointless
a void can’t be found
the absence of something is just that

welcome back
listlessly looking for nothing in particular

leaving most stones unturned
effortlessly foraging
unsure of my expectations
and so much more

there’s a plethora of things
never meant to be found
a lot of the time
it’s just better not to know

there are things that can’t be unlearned
but no ones knows until it’s too late

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Caustic

The equation works out like this;
Mentally spastic,
Physically inactive,
Spiritually indifferent,
Psychologically speaking, I’m always obdurate,
Metaphysically desolate,
Overall feeling conflicted,
Hours spent questioning the purpose of existence,
Time within an undetermined mind
feels like a prison sentence,
Was wading in shallow waters,
but now I’m adrift,
This isn’t one of those trips
it’s not about the journey – it’s the destination,
Murdering my mind and time with procrastination,
Everything is static, waiting for the changes,
Suffering from absentee motivation,
Call back tomorrow,
my brain is on vacation,
Trying isn’t my strong suit,
I guess I’m just not dedicated,
Ambition is in short supply, sluggish passivity permeates,
Ineffectively straining to fully comprehend causation,
Incessantly contemplating what constitutes “Salvation,”
Internally debating; is cognitive thinking a blessing or some sick mutation?

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Howl of Desperation

Somehow all the right trees are uprooted at the wrong time
We all feel the ground beneath us shaking
Wonder if we have things that need disconnecting, too
But the ways we learn begin to be so painstaking
How could anything of value grow in this place?

Search for something solid,
what’s real all fades away.
There’s no high left to chase
We run and hide, we run and hide,
but nothing seems to change.

The warning signs all wail
Desperate not to become a waif
Desperate not to become a waste
Desperate is all we’ve come to stay
Desperation coming in droves makes it hard to create.

We’ve reached rock bottom so things can only get better – or more obscure – 
of that, we’ll make damn sure
Circling back, surfers find the shore
Circling back, search for nothing more
Circling back, desperate for a cure
Circling back, this window I’ve climbed through is nothing but a detour.
So what’s the allure? What’s the allure?

We’re all out here looking for something we cannot escape,
What I thought was a garden was just a nest full of snakes. 

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Evil In, Evil Out

Put evil in and get evil out 

Can’t recognize your reflection now

Eat your goddamn heart out, take a bow, 

Listen to your fucking ocean sounds. 

You can’t sleep your problems away 

Instead, all night just dig your own grave 

So tough it out or writhe in pain 

There are things that just can’t be saved.

But what else is there to say? 

The game is rigged so don’t play, 

Hearing the same things repeated gets tiring 

Beat the same horse to death then keep on riding, 

Get the fuck out of your head 

before you can’t anymore. 

Mostly you deal with all you can, 

then give up when you’ve had enough

The cards will just fall where they may 

Nothing else to do besides sit and wait 

Passing the time becomes harder with age

Trying is nothing but a pain in the ass

Sleeping through all of the hours I shouldn’t be

Keeping my head on straight becomes impossible

After long enough, I know this makes no sense

Count your change – not your blessings – you’re still flat broke. 

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

The Lazy Life

All night everything

with no instructions anywhere,

At least there's no more disco.

Counting calories, then counting steps,

New diet plan -

THE BEST ONE YET!

Get off the couch,

that's good enough,

Breathe in, breathe out,

that's exercise,

now get back to The Lazy Life.

Your phone knows more than you do,

No one knows more than you do,

Let's get offended,

everyone needs more attention.

More public displays of how they can't deal with rejection,

You have to hate everybody so there's equal tension,

And debunk the whole "common" in common sense myth.
Brandon Wentz Poetry

Existential Anxiety

Catch up to get ahead

Lifestyle choices 

Life mislead 

Whatever else still lies ahead

Cow shit problems 

Roadways flooded

The Second Coming never came 

Cars sank into impassable roads 

Like babies dunked in the Holy Lake

I was baptized but I came back up 

I’m 

More than a moron 

Still

Less than a saint 

What’s covered with rust

gets covered with gold paint

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Careless/Curious

Like clockwork

I pull up

the light turns red.

Decay is everywhere

We’re flinging our own shit at each other

No one can hear you from down there.

The tires are all flat

And no one has a spare.

 

“Hey before you get all caught up in the spiral,”

I was stuck in my head all the while

But I heard someone say,

“That girl is viral.

“I’d stay away if that were me.”

Word spreads like disease,

Not enough rest

and too much sleep.

 

“Work is hard,”

get in line,

Deal with it, everybody’s tired,

No more concern,

everything’s fine,

Toe on the edge of the Great Divide.

The grass on my side isn’t all that green,

Is it green over there,

or is it covered in weeds?

The only way to know is to go over and see.

Brandon Wentz Creative Writing, Poetry

Exhausted

Reaching out for nothing at all, 
I come back empty-handed, 
but not disappointed, 
I learned not to expect much –
Not even a postcard,
Not even a phone call,
Not even common decency – 
and you damn sure can’t bank on miracles
ever.
Can’t bank on people either –
People burn you,
People move,
People die, but before they do they’ll lie to you
The circle of life is cruel 
It morphs into a wheel 
and damn can it roll, 
The more I let this life get to me
the closer I get to being swallowed whole
Like when you drive past a car crash 
and drive real slow, til you hear the phrase
“Nothin’ to see here, come on, let’s go folks,”
We only want to see until we get too close, 
The things you see and can’t un-see –
Track marks on your friend, 
Your ex telling you she was spending New Year’s Eve with someone else for the first time in four years, 
The funeral service for a friend you knew since you were thirteen –
And what I’ve figured out, most importantly,
The higher the expectations, the lower every letdown leaves you feeling.