Brian Eckert

Writer. Wanderer. Dreamer. Skeptic. Man.

Tag: poetry

The Globalist

The Globalist puts arsenic in your tea and lead in your pencil. The Globalist rounds up infants at night and returns them with chips in their heads. The Globalist has always been at war with you.   The Globalist tells you no; you may not have your steel belted radials, now either go off and […]

Oh Boy, It’s Raining Again

In the Pacific Northwest you can get quite depressed in winter, with its clouds and its rain. Sure, the plants are all green but what does that mean when you’re slowly going insane?   The locals don’t mind the lack of sunshine it sure beats the snow, they insist. But at least when its cold […]

Darkness

Night passes much quicker than you think it does. Fall asleep and you might miss it.   Day, in its dawn to dusk tyranny, oppresses the Darkness, keeping moon and stars under lock and key.   Suppressed night-knowledge hidden from children who gaze, like Narcissus, into lighted pools blinded by the glare of their own […]

Bloodless

I. Remember yourself on this day; The way you looked, the way you talked, the way the sun shone on you; The way you wanted so badly for something to happen.   II. A friend suffered a nervous breakdown the other day and I thought, “Oh, good for him!” as if it were a wedding […]

New Year’s Resolution

Summer lies sleeping and I’m another year Older, tireder, dumber, obsoleter. Greenery. Brownery. Clownery. Horton hears a who and I don’t care. Duck wings like wind chimes. Young girls riding their bicycles for the last time. So many problems in the world; I’m supposed to pick one and make it my own, while Daylight scares […]

St. Elmo’s Fire

St. Elmo’s Fire. St. Elmo’s Fire! St.Elmo’s Fire? Words flashed into a mind on a teleprompter. St. Elmo’s Fire: a place? a type of lighting? a meteorological phenomenon? St. Elmo’s Fire: a pre-man Darkness, heart of Dark Africa. St. Elmo’s Fire: a seafood canning company based in New Orleans. New Orleans. St. Elmo’s Fire. St. […]

Fear the Sower

The Morning Lobotomy

Each laugh I hear is a battle cry, announcing, “The world hasn’t broken me yet.” But on some days laughter isn’t enough, so I
decide to howl instead. I rear back, begin to bellow like a beast…and then they come for me, drag me away kicking
and screaming. A blow to the head and my world goes black…

Denver to Salt Lake by Bus

Went West with dust of haunted dreams in my blood. Stopped just short of where white caps crash against the sky. In Denver, just to get away, because I have to get away from something, just to kill some time, because I have to kill something.

How I’ve Lived

I’ve lived through broken hearts and broken bones and broken dreams and broken teeth and broken homes and broken promises and broken silences and broken records…