Conference Of The Isolated: The Poems Of Brian M. Spradlin

By Brian Spradlin

The greatest works in history have all been built from a sense of isolation. It is within these moments that the author's truth finds its way from pen to paper. Conference of the Isolated attempts to reopen a dialogue, one that is missing from today's climate. A life lived must be worth living, and as we struggled together through these past few years, it became apparent that isolation would be at the forefront of our very existence, forced in some cases, voluntary in others. Conference of the Isolated not only tackles the loneliness of this period but dwells on the past as it relates to the great works of our time, much of which has never seen the light of day. Along the way, recollections of the past, remembrances of those we lost, and a hope for a better tomorrow all reign in word play.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887937373

Book preview

On Legacy

from the snuggly blanket at birth

to the inevitable curtain call…

what lies between will define you and me and all of us,

what is the end game?

it closes the chapter then the novella,

parents instrumental,

the music to the ears of those concerned,

they will course the geometry of young minds,

mold and shape like sacred sculptures,

cultivate a future in a few short years,

introductions then made to other tiny creatures,

letters and words, laughs and connections,

nature sets in,

voices grow steep,

hairs emerge

and temptation and vice appear,

it is here where direction is ripe with angles,

and so some will fall

others to excel,

the decider arrives

apathy to it all

or perhaps a stranglehold on opportunity

perhaps a rap at the door

to play endless victim,

to fail on purpose,

will you accumulate acquaintance?

will you walk through the occasional door?

will you hold options close?

here it all sums up,

after the career wraps,

after your own children relive your experience

it all starts again.

in their eyes.

in their depth.

in all they are.

your world created theirs.

your decisions will prove mighty to naive ears

and to virgin experience,

and they will instruct

based on your lead,

the world needs leaders,

our only prayer now,

everything starts at home,

branches of the family tree

attached to the trunk of possibility.

Single File

we’ll become those guys we make light of,

sixteen deep at the food court

reminiscing

talking about that fish we caught back in the day

or the hole in one in ’75,

maybe the miracle baby from nowhere

or the camaro saved with high school sweat money,

it will be us in one way, shape, or oblique form

at least to what can be remembered,

moments in a vase

jarred memories

the greatest exaggerations or truths

merely years from recall.

Halcyon

wonderful days they were

my youth

dressed for class

absorbed the lessons

sought summer like the rest

nights when i slept and dreamt

growing toward something

yet not quite sure what,

swimming, playing

the definition of childhood

the preface to ambition

the refuge in family,

safety

security

hope

life sweet as citrus

the perfect piano key

these are the days i return to

and every so often i hold dear

as life and reality’s roads

would turn sideways

deal me curveballs

and lead me through lessons

drenched in solemnity.

Fish Tank

and so you see the blood rush to the surface

it is you who have made me what i am today

and so you see

i need no facebook account

to rest my laurels on the past

the past is dead

and thankfully so

the ex, she looks so sick

and yet so willing to advertise

let all of my friends back into your shitbox

they dumb enough to speak to you

the short-term memory

the fire burning down my walls,

walls once meant to sustain our marriage

instead evaporated around my soul

blank looks from the muted audience

but as in all the tables will turn

i’ve made sure of my attitude when it does

for too long i’ve faded their character

and now the rush of adrenaline is so thick

a machete could do no damage

the tingling, i’m returning

will survive my laps in this sea of disaster

in this piranha tank where all know nothing

except to use…to inflict…and to batter

what brains you have left in my swollen head.

Strangle

in these fertile shadows i will hide

from love, from my dreams,

from all that seems to please me…

they are the false hopes of a once energized man

a man who gave of himself to better you

a man whose firm wish was to hold you close

a man who has given all to receive none,

and so he walks by you

and in all that you do,

you will mean nothing when the book is complete,

even less after reading it,

and by day you can smile like a dizzy fool,

but by night you can reminisce

about the soldier you threw away,

drown in your tears then,

my boat is secured.

A Stain

lads awake and gather their bags,

wiping sleep from young ovals

they prepare their way,

fill the bus seats

have their laughs before the bell rings,

from afar the architects assemble their destruction,

the blueprints alive in their twisted minds,

plans laid for months

the cowardice of insanity alive

while they mortgage the concept of death,

isolated and without purpose

they will forego their own end in favor of treachery,

their aim is to take scalps

and the doves lay unaware of fate,

these horrors are not partisan,

the innocent care not about politica,

only being all that they can,

propped up by their teachers and parents

who hold close and dear the future that will soon disappear,

terror alive and induced by the ill,

they will meet their end as well

the stains and residue they leave on the school floor

will inevitably stain their souls on judgment day.

doves fly,

in our hearts you will live forever.

Sill

memories all born from somewhere

and so embarked on this adventure

from hamlin to the present day,

adult poker games, mini swimming pool in the corridor,

the rocking horse with the shifty eye that frightened me

after 8 p.m. each night…

reading books on the couch with mom,

these were the times that would shape what was to come,

many will remember their first recollection,

and years before the eventual brain bump,

my earliest highlight would come on a loud Saturday night

as i rocked a bit too hard and caught the edge of the sill,

sometimes i wonder how others fared

but i can still feel the pain as if it was yesterday

though decades past it…

The Hot Days

mid-june

we met again by accident

and two days later we were lovers,

we made up for lost time

killed that cricket sound in the distance

oh, that first night

thanks for the lap dance

then behind nervousness and booze

we slapped skin and met tongues,

the party would last a month

before the insanity began

but i’d give anything

to have it all again…

Tens And Tens

same messaging

same old fraud

seen it too many times

please relinquish the grasp

that choke hold you’ve perfected

breathing restricted

veins slit

minds torn in two

you destroy then change the story,

we’re living it though

always a heartbeat from disaster

and disaster you are,

holding on for decades

to a governance by force

not by attrition,

attaining your will from us

feeds us the desperation we need,

don’t despair when force overwhelms your ambition

we rule by civility

not cowardice.

Atmosphere Out Loud

i hear the whispers

they rest gently behind violin clouds,

soft and amorous,

scandalous, salacious all at once

a repercussion sponge

the levy of worthlessness

apostolic mercies

visions yet no functioning eyes,

tendencies and norms

rolled into one empty basin,

the lucid rampant heartbeat

which begs for sanity but fails to prosper,

gossipy gatekeepers

scribbled criticism

invisible ink footnotes

blessed by the trivial,

dollars that can never travel home

petty and incredulous

it only matters when the waves wage war

when the jungle sounds shriek

when it all bears fruit

when you hear the composite of all that will be

all you can hold inside

all the art you can inhale

until it hits the page

and we dissect it.

Pervasive

you know who i am…

or so i thought

that brilliant man you said

i called it lucky

but alas, i stand

the same man you said you loved

yet hung out to dry,

yes, you know who i am,

so let me stand behind the compliment,

far and away

i save for better days

and lap by lap i surround your dreams,

don’t care who you roll around with now,

it’s cheap,

we had a story-book ending

right from the inception,

right from the knee-buckler,

when i saw you first a half decade ago…

you saw me differently…

not as a lover but just another guy,

you knew who i was,

so let me stand behind that past,

canyon calls and the rust wears off,

i must move on but not before my beer and shot,

i remain consistent

teens on through the twenties and past,

my past never dissipates,

i am the dark

you are even darker

and that’s why we always got along

because our darkness seemed so right,

never questioned,

i stand indifferent,

you know who i am,

let me sit in this darkness,

alone, unfettered,

so we drifted apart again,

your loss, my loss,

stalemate, double checkmate,

but i still breathe,

lungs of fire to never be extinguished,

you stay in my desire

you shape this erotica,

i wanted no one else

like i wanted you,

i want you more now than ever,

you know who i am,

let me have this moment,

let me stand behind this bottle,

let me win again.

False Eye

calls made for an emergency ignored

and with intent to grind an opponent,

the peaceful arrived to be heard

because of the vid, because of the cursed rulebook

because of the inconsistency

the hypocrites slammed the doors shut

though they’d cried at the pulpit before,

blamed it on the backbones,

blamed it on the wheel stompers,

no room for the common man anymore,

parties shifted,

the oligarchs charm with saccharine wine

and sacrilege,

the heartland knows the truth,

we still matter,

the inner thirty-five

that make the country whistle,

that slide their time cards through,

not enough patience to listen to us,

not enough guts to investigate,

their fake promises will never come true

galaxies of decades and a blasphemy

the opposites are polar

yet your freezers are stocked

years of sustenance

train tracks of roadkill

our eyes blindfolded for too long,

you’ve now made it obvious that we are not one,

only yourselves to blame,

read your mirrors,

in charge but out of touch

and some deserters along our path as well,

judges in robes

and scribes may decree

but in the end we will have our say

we tried on the day you labeled a falsehood

and dotted an i that you titled

while exempting the bloodshed before it.

Claws

perpetrators run the show,

torn with anguish but never let on,

working