Brusselsproo - Hello Poetry

Growing flower vines on the side of this empty house It's been quite some time since I have seen this door Since I have laid on this barren floor, it's so strange seeing that carpets face replaced Feeling the ice of this hardwood floor How nice it is to miss those memories. Do you remember when we all laid out, making beds out of blankets because there was no room for us all And yet we did not fit any other way, finding ways all over one another Then someone would wake up with ranch on their face Sleep over rules, my dear. The first to fall gets the joke after all. No one has tended to the flowers in a while but whos to say there has been anyone to take that place. Remember when this used to be so colorful and over there we would scream our lungs out Convince me that I could learn how to sing and now you wouldn't even hear my voice. Yet this garden is so pretty. Raining days would fill the fountains water edge and arise would come the cute babies of those flying bugs. We confused them for tadpoles more days that not. How relaxing of a time those days were Worrisome worries having no existence in that time of mind, at least in those moments. I skipped quite a bit, like how with some silky pants you could go zooming down the stairs being lucky enough not to fall too hard. The stairs were carpeted but those floors were not. What memories safe place, where one thought she died and cried and screamed And now it is nothing but a childish memory. This house smells old, but still like home. It's about time that I find home isn't it? With it's own pretty garden and this time my neighbors can hear something beautiful as we would sit outside and serenade the sky. The flowers would bloom with such variety, colors everywhere! My children would make explosions coming up and down the stairs, forgetting that walking exist Sliding down staircases just like we did. Create happier memories for the future that the past didn't have. Perhaps this is learning to let go, forget all that no longer serves this body No longer serves this mind, it's just taking up space. I would rather just cry, let the sea of dams release and find myself beneath the rivers sea. Happiness sprouts from seeds and I am but a thousand flowers trying to grow at the same time But all these different parts need different things, different soil, water and sunlight Breathe Maybe that is why I feel such butterflies around you and that smiles of yours Oh, how they go crazy, making a mess of my insides How did pollen get in my nose ? I'm allergic Mirror appreciation shows change, from the days where those bags are so heavy To where it seems like the glow has followed it's morning flow. There is something to this growth. Remember painting on the coffee table, so much art lost over the years of an overly educated child Playing dumb to the world for strategy. We do not "perfect" so it is right but to express accurately, to be frank this is the last place I want advice.

0

Jan 23, 2021

Jan 23, 2021 at 1:04 PM UTC

Memories

Growing flower vines on the side of this empty house It's been quite some time since I have seen this door Since I have laid on this barren floor, it's so strange seeing that carpets face replaced Feeling the ice of this hardwood floor How nice it is to miss those memories. Do you remember when we all laid out, making beds out of blankets because there was no room for us all And yet we did not fit any other way, finding ways all over one another Then someone would wake up with ranch on their face Sleep over rules, my dear. The first to fall gets the joke after all. No one has tended to the flowers in a while but whos to say there has been anyone to take that place. Remember when this used to be so colorful and over there we would scream our lungs out Convince me that I could learn how to sing and now you wouldn't even hear my voice. Yet this garden is so pretty. Raining days would fill the fountains water edge and arise would come the cute babies of those flying bugs. We confused them for tadpoles more days that not. How relaxing of a time those days were Worrisome worries having no existence in that time of mind, at least in those moments. I skipped quite a bit, like how with some silky pants you could go zooming down the stairs being lucky enough not to fall too hard. The stairs were carpeted but those floors were not. What memories safe place, where one thought she died and cried and screamed And now it is nothing but a childish memory. This house smells old, but still like home. It's about time that I find home isn't it? With it's own pretty garden and this time my neighbors can hear something beautiful as we would sit outside and serenade the sky. The flowers would bloom with such variety, colors everywhere! My children would make explosions coming up and down the stairs, forgetting that walking exist Sliding down staircases just like we did. Create happier memories for the future that the past didn't have. Perhaps this is learning to let go, forget all that no longer serves this body No longer serves this mind, it's just taking up space. I would rather just cry, let the sea of dams release and find myself beneath the rivers sea. Happiness sprouts from seeds and I am but a thousand flowers trying to grow at the same time But all these different parts need different things, different soil, water and sunlight Breathe Maybe that is why I feel such butterflies around you and that smiles of yours Oh, how they go crazy, making a mess of my insides How did pollen get in my nose ? I'm allergic Mirror appreciation shows change, from the days where those bags are so heavy To where it seems like the glow has followed it's morning flow. There is something to this growth. Remember painting on the coffee table, so much art lost over the years of an overly educated child Playing dumb to the world for strategy. We do not "perfect" so it is right but to express accurately, to be frank this is the last place I want advice.

40

Sometimes you're sweet like honey But it can shift to savory and sometimes even nothing at all Sometimes though you are an explosion of flavor What the world would call Umami

0

Jan 23, 2021

Jan 23, 2021 at 12:55 PM UTC

Sometimes

Sometimes you're sweet like honey But it can shift to savory and sometimes even nothing at all Sometimes though you are an explosion of flavor What the world would call Umami

4

Trying out this letter thing How is it so far? I've never been an entrepreneur with words but I know them well enough to get around. Like riding a bike except I forget some of what I am taught, making these up hill rides difficult. Complete strangers will place there eyes upon this page, screen and so forth but will you? I wonder Perhaps years after catastrophe has struck, you'll find these broken words of mine expressing this love that I am so afraid of. I am afraid because there is no denying what you already know of as for others it was easy to hide. Trapped closet shut behind lock and key because it was "too early" to speak of anything dealing with this feeling. Of course it was okay when it was accidental, but those moments also felt forced to feel the same. Where will you go when this is no longer the same? Mystery shape given hand, am I allowed to shake?

0

Aug 25, 2020

Aug 25, 2020 at 1:47 AM UTC

Never Sent, Never Finished

Trying out this letter thing How is it so far? I've never been an entrepreneur with words but I know them well enough to get around. Like riding a bike except I forget some of what I am taught, making these up hill rides difficult. Complete strangers will place there eyes upon this page, screen and so forth but will you? I wonder Perhaps years after catastrophe has struck, you'll find these broken words of mine expressing this love that I am so afraid of. I am afraid because there is no denying what you already know of as for others it was easy to hide. Trapped closet shut behind lock and key because it was "too early" to speak of anything dealing with this feeling. Of course it was okay when it was accidental, but those moments also felt forced to feel the same. Where will you go when this is no longer the same? Mystery shape given hand, am I allowed to shake?

8

Can I be your honey with my stinger bunny? Sting away those ill willed emotions and make you laugh at all things funny Help that smile glisten a little more Isn't it strange? For the Sunshine Sunrise to feel butterflies All fluttering around thoughts of you How do you do? Firebird Naturous charm, who ever thought a heart could be captured as such Run with me in this meadows, lets play hide and seek. Let us feel the energy between us, of us as separate beings. My job had always been to help the growth or so I thought You have taught me to grow within myself so that I do not Rot Your arms are such a safe place, although I feel bothersome

0

Aug 13, 2020

Aug 13, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC

Honey Wasp

Can I be your honey with my stinger bunny? Sting away those ill willed emotions and make you laugh at all things funny Help that smile glisten a little more Isn't it strange? For the Sunshine Sunrise to feel butterflies All fluttering around thoughts of you How do you do? Firebird Naturous charm, who ever thought a heart could be captured as such Run with me in this meadows, lets play hide and seek. Let us feel the energy between us, of us as separate beings. My job had always been to help the growth or so I thought You have taught me to grow within myself so that I do not Rot Your arms are such a safe place, although I feel bothersome

13

I saw you from the corner of my eye Flash black, you showed your face but yet your gaze couldn’t meet mine Uneasy goodbye and sage burnt soon. Left this lingering feeling Were you someone I knew?

0

Jul 7, 2020

Jul 7, 2020 at 10:44 PM UTC

Bad Omen

I saw you from the corner of my eye Flash black, you showed your face but yet your gaze couldn’t meet mine Uneasy goodbye and sage burnt soon. Left this lingering feeling Were you someone I knew?

4

How do people write about love? It is effortless, like staring off into the flowers edge of meadows. I write about it, accidental When the waves are crashing on these peaks Here comes he in the middle of the sea. It grows frustrating to say but "This was not meant to be about you" I would constantly say, laugh at myself but in truth I'm afraid. What if those words hold some relevance to you. You've ****** me off to high heavens but god forbid you're the cause of such loneliness. What is a love poem to a person that is experiencing something new? He is my Fire Cannon burst through that ships side. They'll be sinking sure enough just like me beloved heart. In a cheesy story the girl would faint. Echoed voices He'd call me a dork.

0

Jul 7, 2020

Jul 7, 2020 at 10:07 PM UTC

I don't know... Love?

How do people write about love? It is effortless, like staring off into the flowers edge of meadows. I write about it, accidental When the waves are crashing on these peaks Here comes he in the middle of the sea. It grows frustrating to say but "This was not meant to be about you" I would constantly say, laugh at myself but in truth I'm afraid. What if those words hold some relevance to you. You've ****** me off to high heavens but god forbid you're the cause of such loneliness. What is a love poem to a person that is experiencing something new? He is my Fire Cannon burst through that ships side. They'll be sinking sure enough just like me beloved heart. In a cheesy story the girl would faint. Echoed voices He'd call me a dork.

15

Could this even be labeled as poetry? The inside of my head is screaming So here we speak ever so fluently, a little broken because my eyes are defective Body perspective, is to happens to be the same Painful painful, lonely games. It is hard to speak with rivers creating waterfalls Blurred lines of letters, I'm not drunk I swear. I am just swerving through these lines of paint Give me a canvas to portray my hate That was false.

0

Jul 5, 2020

Jul 5, 2020 at 10:50 PM UTC

Writing Rampage

Could this even be labeled as poetry? The inside of my head is screaming So here we speak ever so fluently, a little broken because my eyes are defective Body perspective, is to happens to be the same Painful painful, lonely games. It is hard to speak with rivers creating waterfalls Blurred lines of letters, I'm not drunk I swear. I am just swerving through these lines of paint Give me a canvas to portray my hate That was false.

10

Can you be so sure that you're eyes are not deceiving That it is not you who's glasses are fogged over with those roses Pink film world Can you be so sure, you have seen me? When we are naked in bed, how can you tell? When I tell you those secrets, am I obvious? In truth, we're just scared children learning about love. Different experiences to add up. My apologies, fear speaks strongly

0

Jul 5, 2020

Jul 5, 2020 at 10:49 PM UTC

Can you?

Can you be so sure that you're eyes are not deceiving That it is not you who's glasses are fogged over with those roses Pink film world Can you be so sure, you have seen me? When we are naked in bed, how can you tell? When I tell you those secrets, am I obvious? In truth, we're just scared children learning about love. Different experiences to add up. My apologies, fear speaks strongly

9

Wasn't the night so loud? Of people cheering proud Wine glasses hold true to pain of loud noises BOOOM This is terrifying Panic bloom like flowers through this room No need to water this garden they have more than enough Fuel. How helpless, fire spread Reckless thoughts hold true pain An artist once spoke of her hands being covered in red She held her skin until it bled with the heed of loneliness' head. I can feel so much Yet here we are acting numb.

0

Jul 4, 2020

Jul 4, 2020 at 11:01 PM UTC

Lonesome

Wasn't the night so loud? Of people cheering proud Wine glasses hold true to pain of loud noises BOOOM This is terrifying Panic bloom like flowers through this room No need to water this garden they have more than enough Fuel. How helpless, fire spread Reckless thoughts hold true pain An artist once spoke of her hands being covered in red She held her skin until it bled with the heed of loneliness' head. I can feel so much Yet here we are acting numb.

13

It is not that of getting lost in the spirals of the wall, those patterns and faces, making shapes from basic dots and strange angles in places. Imagination straining. This is dissociation, it is no joke of wow that fan looks nice But I really just lost my sense of self in this life. The surrounding surfaces were not real even with my hands on it’s surface Was this fire really burning, those candles melting? All I see is glass burning, charred over black ash. Tell me dear Do you stand in doorways feeling dizzy because the reality is crumbling and that sense of smell does nothing It lingers with this annoying sweetness Yet the candles keep these levels grounded It is looking in the mirror and not being able to recognize who is seen Is that me breathing? Am I touching the sink, is my face so strange to look this way. Some days feel normal and others I have no sense of taste Imagine those sweet desserts no longer having flavor We will cry at this frightened state, the world does no favors. But here we are also aware that this is real despite how it feels, maybe I am magic Sage my beloved hated name. Who are you? Why don't you ask the world the same.

0

Jun 25, 2020

Jun 25, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC

Dissociate

It is not that of getting lost in the spirals of the wall, those patterns and faces, making shapes from basic dots and strange angles in places. Imagination straining. This is dissociation, it is no joke of wow that fan looks nice But I really just lost my sense of self in this life. The surrounding surfaces were not real even with my hands on it’s surface Was this fire really burning, those candles melting? All I see is glass burning, charred over black ash. Tell me dear Do you stand in doorways feeling dizzy because the reality is crumbling and that sense of smell does nothing It lingers with this annoying sweetness Yet the candles keep these levels grounded It is looking in the mirror and not being able to recognize who is seen Is that me breathing? Am I touching the sink, is my face so strange to look this way. Some days feel normal and others I have no sense of taste Imagine those sweet desserts no longer having flavor We will cry at this frightened state, the world does no favors. But here we are also aware that this is real despite how it feels, maybe I am magic Sage my beloved hated name. Who are you? Why don't you ask the world the same.

19