Now i understand,
chose snow lady
snow babe
She need to cook!
He wants stars
He loved them
Sometimes in later day
he turns evil because he chose stars
Understood daddy
that 3rd one biggest say mistake of my life,
the made of love.
Ha-ha! Yeah. Ha-ha!
PS DAD: I need to be able to write.

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

There is no such thing as repetition
Set in stone necessity of self choice
What's here today in space around you
Wasn't same yesterday,
Leaves fall and our creations
If good ones
Are here to stay-
To fall back to enjoy whenever we want
Which in no way is repetitiveness
For instance
To fall asleep with these pajamas to wake back up to
Does not make my sleeping a waste because I wore those same pajamas
Just last eve,
repetitive repetition blissful bite

Violets are grey
Berries are blue
Nettles are green
Cherries are red
Berries are purple

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Stems are yellowish
Seeds are green

Violets are grey
Blood is blood

Your blood is red
Mine might be blue,
or yellow, or orange, or pink

© Clarissa van Vreden

Judgement calls for the infiltration of none of it at all
The sad barrier that so many want to write about
to touch, to make reasoning of-
sad speech when feeling good,
thought of love for being hurt
in that touch of a moment for a waking call
of pens on poetry walls.

© 2017 Clarissa van Vreden

Nothing is ever broken,
It is how it is.
Even words have the ability to seem as ruin but even words can be painted over.
It is not even safe to say everything is beautiful, because it is more then that you see...

Succumbed by news flash
of whispers that don't exist.
Not so mesmerized but wishing to
feed on something that simply exists.
No heartache no pain that brings me down for I question its appearance within me now.
A question like this out loud would receive back an answer such as earlier of "I don't know."
Honest in all its poetry form but obsolete of an almost ignited fuel of anger,
Leaving me with the right immediate answer,
No logic needed
Of what was one is simply now a peaceful embryo ignited in star form- pleasant, alive, and mused- without the presence of whispers at all,
A soul you are
That must be all.

Sleeping socks
Lying over the side arm-rest of the chair beside me
Slurping snoozes
In their airways.
Black and white tilted sadly not awakened by the morning church bell.
Yet it's more quiet there asking if they've done their part.
In distant snoozes we speak- A sniff of poison can leak into my heart as the deafening noise of stripes plead only a smell- a smell of dissaray as the night lingers on.
What goes up must come down must it not, yet bound absolute that passage-airways clear up.

I stay here baby
I stay right here

Counting clocks of light shed
Won't break my sun shed
Broken pavements hail a mile home
I'm right here baby I'm right here

Sight seeing of stars encounting
Blossoming everything in growing
Stars glowing
Moon light pouring

I stay here baby
I stay right here
Holding unto
A muse break
A kick into you
A playwright of fight
To sing a song about

And that goes a little bit like
No!
I'm right here baby
I'm right here

© Clarissa van Vreden

The interchanging elapse
Between the wind and the sun
The air and the rising soil

Comes with how different
Or how yet so the same

As it happens now like when
The pour of rain
The sunshine though
Flickering in the eyes
Over ever-change

Though my eyes see different
Perhaps I’m unkowingly some type of
Colorblind

Moving perhaps forwards or backwards
As I sleep of memoires
And hasty rememberance when I wake up
To of yesterday

Rainbows come in a while usually
Though stagnant in piling up of thought
For it exists

Where and there though
Distinguishable

Fire flames of proving existing now
Like ashes
You’ll never be gone

© Clarissa van Vreden

As the sun rose down again,

the flight of being up,

made question

For when had flown,

running about to go,

further and then back up again

Sitting, resting, laying, testing dreaming of a scape canoe

waters still, risen unto

making way to where

feet hold, escaping the lovely day

© 2018 Clarissa van Vreden

In a Spiritual world,
much not needed of explain:
In a Galaxy field World
we are all in
In galaxy connection

Sometimes it's like "what?"
to say for the negative inside
I come across,
a leech
a ******* my speech
and I don't want to be there for it hear it,
but there it is
that repeat
of my taste, so to speak.

It's like I get it!
so to pass out on a bad note,
it's not the greatest feedback
because, it is not me.
It's that link that exists...

Why not you try to be you and try
face your faith if you've heard of such,
and be your behave because we're all much better off.
Though why would you read this a hear out listen
though, "we're all much better off."

Don't be ware of the human leech,
ignore it
and continue being, who you are.

I have come to face the Witch(es)
They intact imaginational visual feed force upon thee
and crack a field in your Aura
because of envy

Witches exist too,
and so do
the spiritual
human leech.

Energy,
it exists.

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

there was only sky
there was a cave of which there were the dead inside
the birds started chirping from the beginning roots of trees
the ocean layer was swerving
the rainbow appeared once the messages were in full bloom
The sky started turning from purple's and red's to a bright blue
There were bats that hovered from the caves
only darkness seemed to know where this all came from
because the rise of skies made it as though something new
The foxes showed themselves as the mud turned brown
and the wolves appeared themselves as the birds fell down
it seemed as if everything was coming alive from the roots of trees
moths only appeared in the know about century
the crystal snowflakes came about every so often, every 2 to 3 weeks.
There then appeared to be no one in these coffins in the caves
Bones spurred
the souls of the people didn't arrive just suddenly, but one showed notice as the next followed in the midst of autumn and summer not before winter fall
They came from a galactic falling
slowly their crystals began to show
to prove that in the coldest of all seasons humans are strongest of them all

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

Why?
She snads voice to a similarity
if you tell her to please be on with her tune more
she repeats the voice of your soul
She's lied to her husband all along of not able too understand his incoming senses
She tries to move her voice abouts to mine as so before with her tune
to a all alongingness of repetition of yours.
There's evil in her vide
this is why

I am laying in a daze
where the quivering of the crows have got me in a spin
one of which I've made a spider web without remembering how or when
The days are tumbling like the sea side and I'm deciding whether or not to take this ride; Comforting in no gaps or holes- oh this must be a glorious slide.
I may arrive in a place known where I can't climb back upwards to the place known where my web is that of a still image
and so I go for joy in darkness where I might find a glittering star just like that star, I've gone so far.
My heart made of copper bleeds the insides of my gooey body edging its surroundings turning into vein drops the muse don't break because my heart is with me.
Sometimes I ponder my body is made of silver tear drops, as I wash myself with the rain.

© 2018 Clarissa van Vreden

Where there once was a willow tree, out-broke some purple Daisy flowers. Indeed smelling of lavender. The grass grew dim and the sun always setting. Where there was a will was a way reminded the willow tree. Birds seemed to re-speech what was said. Crows my loveliest animals out of this bunch, just because... Well there was a book about a wishing well they've all heard of- far away. Here the rain was enough supply- The mothers, all friends- the fathers also. My favorite was pumpkin soup.
They stayed living to out the smell of something sleepy. The willow tree became like the wishing well, and here we all are, solemnly.

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

This memoire...
That Guy was like magic
It was like obscene
Like the internal visual aspect, of yes, my dream

Past night...
I am in love with you.
I can't "see you"
I only cry and I don't know why.
Phsically strong with emotion in nerve endings,
sick.

© Clarissa van Vreden

(to be continued)

5.19.2016-
From the touch of wind to the glistening feed of bright blue ocean waves surrounding my knees.
To the questioning of nothing off in the sense of when asking, what else is out there?
Neither bored or glimpsed of fairness in today,
left with remains of I am still here to make up my day. It might not make all the comprehensions in the world anymore to my heart when words whisper nothing but truth near my ears. Yet I understand now what it can be to hear ration. With this, and without swallow- I’ll let my feet wander back to the bright blue sky, back to the sea, once again feeling it for what it is. For what it truly is.

internet stuff comes back up

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

Batman ride car mobile swerving back

Let me rides,
given to school bois,
made a deal
he said aight
after I said i wont scam
given
though others lended
or was it both?
well theres Youngbloodz:
straight cars lining
me aint cool with them taking
so I ordered my car
after firing in the air saying dont move.
one heated
i said dont get out as he moving out,
i shot a gun towards him out so ther
was wind
killah all like dont
well im in my vehicle
and they also took his car
i didnt know that was his car
home
calling the po
about his car by he
and we got them cars back

ps I shot the gun before the wind

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

Are you listening?
Lines, bliss, peacing?
Ease, drops
Sky-
Tears stopped dry
Fine binds
Glistens
Earth rise
Mistens
Mind hear you,
Trials tear true
I find you regardless of
Body what minds can do

Like nothing I write matters anymore?
Go back to writing in books?
Wasn’t there a purpose for writing in the stanza?
Wasn’t there a purpose for coloring to begin at?

Wasn’t there a purpose to help humanity with the non-begs of entirity though proof-work of somethings?

Wasn’t there a non-place though an at-place at purposing with words?
Word and or non-endeavor though word for placing action at for placing?
Wasn’t there a means for some type of entell where others can read and where others can see a pass-by of art?

Why anything at all I question myself as I realize not my body yet but realize there may not be a purpose to anything at all when so much has been done and not a thank you Clarissa for having written/action-ed/placed/…

It’s like what good is anything of doings when feasts are barely feasts and become rather a laugh-at
For it’s that majority prefer to, laugh-at rather than laugh-with.

It’s that there hadn’t been no pleasure in minds though rather seeking pleasure for that as

I can’t recall a place socially anymore online where there was appreciation for statuses re-mongst books or school-type shares with acknowledgement. Besides many of those people are dead not already but somewhere amongst the lines.

It’s never like I say internal but saying like over and over again can by very funny. I don’t want to think about how many have gone about speaking of the word like with everything in between as though it’s humanity though I have written there and that is the truth: Like… Somehow seems to fly by very as easy.

Back to belief in how it may be more to the structure of not writing anywhere is no longer a means for I have done that already and I can’t not not help it.

My body is where I is.

© Clarissa van Vreden

It's the evening
There is no thunder, yet
It's bound to happen eventually
It's like the time versus the weather,
and yet there is no knowledge to everything
The mysterious and the real happenings, bound, to be forgotten

© Clarissa van Vreden

I’ve come to understand now that of course as someone is sleeping, the other needs to give respect and not wake that individual of course- It’s always been like that for in terms of that knowledge though maybe we are all simply put born as individuals where our brains do not mesh in any way shape or form other than talk about ourselves and unto ourselves to make points come across

That we are all individually intrinsic and that sleeping all together as a global spheric mannerism is just the way so that so that that can just be some way of understanding that humans are a certain way

It’s like we do this just in case the real out there aliens are alive for them to see what humanity is like that it’s its own planet meant for humanity. Other than it proves no point at all, when the lights go down low and the music begins to blare and the fireworks are in the air on a schedule that changes every, single, year

This is our Atmosphere

© 2018 Clarissa van Vreden

Well hello,
I'm on my thoughts literally word for word writing without thought.
I'm speaking in disguise in ways I mesmerise for wings have unfolding happy brings.
Speaking in tongue saying why oh why such a disguise when it's my mask that let me to you!
How do you do?!
So I spread my wings, and scream oh dear! Which makes me laugh because hey dear, oh my,
I can fly! No no these words are my song just beautiful how this be a twist of the tongue.
Oh my mesmerised eyes.
Now what do I spy?

© 2017 Clarissa van Vreden

ten percent battery to write about eyes
ten percent battery to write about eyes
ten percent battery to write about eyes

thine eyes are thine eyes

though have not haven't have hathened thur eyes
thise eyes have been haddened by your eyes

obviously

nothing about realize " that you have eyes
as safety

no thanks , and no thanks ittitty -

Demisial deprived depriviciality

no thanks,

you two

eyes for mine areth sacred like my faith of sensity

those who have scaredom of eyes have scaredom of eyes

but me,

I know thine eyes

and + you

You aren't nothing but that demise in senseless hearacheded heartache heartacheded devure in spiced spliced

hathened you had senselessnessness

Can't I; Be nice?

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

You had the way
you had your day
The night turned young
and the birds yeah,
they sung.

Today is different
you're in my psyche,
so far and gone.

Back to this what?
Back to that
My heart is a hummingbird
and you took that back.

See ya tomorrow!

© Clarissa van Vreden

You phase me
I've phased me
It was a phase I was in
Where you've known me
But when I see you
All that I can see,
Are those judge mental eyes.

© Clarissa C. van Vreden

it has a lot of faults,
your story,
has a lot of unsaid
your story
has a lot of knowledge

Your story is epic,
but yet so strange as of right now: Bland

The thought of it explanation,
gets you eery instead of laughable because of
what?

You felt you couldn't explain it better?

Your story,

mine.

PS: Do tell because that is why you feel this way

© Clarissa C. van Vreden