Biography
"A Dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world".
-Oscar Wilde
By Brian Michael Peterson Isn’t the point in life to ask questions, tackle barriers and pow through the unimaginable? If I were to place me in a category in what part of the city I most identify wi…
My new addition to my column HALL OF SHAME published on New Queer on the Block Magazine.
Check it out!
Here I’m with my National News Editor and buddy, Shaun Knittel. This was such a great rally and march to stand our ground and take back our neighborhood. #teamcapitolhill
Rain pours down with an infatuated expression
onto my face to deliver fates
fates screaming and it’s the future,
it’s the possibilities
it’s the unknown and the mystery.
Players around me, all around me,
telling me what to do,
what to wear and how to act,
sometimes I feel like a puppet on strings
controlled by society.
Pain is still in the frontal lobe of my brain,
it’s pain derived from love, lack of
Pushing through to make the best of everything,
for the people around me, the ones who look up to me,
the ones who are expecting a leader,
the ones who are needing a guide to show them the way.
I’m spent.
Exhausted.
I need a break.
I need to be checked.
You be the judge, but judgemental fags need not apply.
Something oh so magical about this view and that sign.
Soon this will be home
(Source: saccrilegious)
My work station. Writing interview questions, possible columnist for New Queer on the Block.
Fuck Facbook!
This is my personal blog, and not Facebook, so it seems appropriate to talk about something that’s been bothering a huge deal about social media. I’m a write in many different mediums including fiction and non-fiction (journalism).
The thing that is driving me nuts the most is what is shared on Facebook and twitter. I write about a historical event in the making and its not really shared on Facebook, but re-sharing a picture of a pig flying while eating bacon is news-worthy on Facebook.
What gives?
We Came, We Spoke, We Marched - An Original Poem by B.Michael Peterson
We came, we spoke up, we marched
Even the crows are intimated.
We came, we spoke, we marched,
Even the bums we shocked.
We came, we spoke, we marched,
Even the politicians heard our chants.
We came, we spoke, we marched,
Even the conservative rats of yesteryear agreed with our views.
We came, we spoke, we march,
Let’s see if the crime setters will fuck with us now.
Paths (A Poem I Wrote)
Seeing you for the first time in nine months,
I get flustered, confused, and paralyzed.
There are many things I still find attractive in your,
but distraction is not in my cards.
On I march forward to reach for my dreams,
my goals,
Our paths will align when the universe and the charts,
have decided us deem quality material to meet,
in the dead center.
