Tag: poet
1000 Followers!!! 😁❤️🌹
I cant believe I made it to 1k followers! This is truly a blessing for me and I want to thank you guys for your love, support and feedback. You’ve helped me grow and maintain the confidence to keep growing. Thank you thank you thank yous!
Update: I finished my Story and Concept class with an A! It was so stressful but my hard work certainly paid off.
I got a new kitten! His name is Alfred and he always likes to help me edit on the computer
I’m moving to Atlanta this year! I’m terrified but excited to expand my horizons
A publishing company contacted me! This could be the beginning of my career guys! Wish me luck!
Estranged
how comfortable I was
giving everything
I thought I was
before I knew
what or who I was
conforming
performing how a hidden
witness does
how solicitous
with barely a soul to offer
if it’d give me a chance
a place
a body to harbor
– B. Brown
(image courtesy of Pinterest)
Untimely Wisdom
like a flower who bloomed too soon,
I witnessed the harshes of winters, alone
pelted with acidic rain
no chance to glisten with dew,
only frost, fragrance diffused
I welt before decaying leaves,
my flush foreign
amongst fraying faculties,
couldn’t fathom following through
as a phantom into the spring
– B. Brown
Pulled Apart
on display
sold as is
no returns
after alterations
so you were stuck with me
defective,
useless
for your prerogatives,
unaware
that I was more
than what you wanted
I was everything
that you needed
– B. Brown
(Doll Chateau Stacia)
For Free
I was told
not to write
Without pay
As if coin
Was the only currency
I have to deal with
As if my power is limited
As if I scour for my lines
And rhymes each time
I sit to write to read
The bones
Clattering inside me
As if I don’t write
For me
For those who bleed
Like me
Who hurt chronically
Who neurotically
Self medicate
With narcotics
And loving memories
I don’t write for free
No one has to pay me
To pay my dues
I do freely
Write to free me
And others being
Frantically living
– B. Brown
(Time clock freestyle haha five minutes before the work day begins. Rise and grind. Good morning.)
Pirated
drag me from the rails, along the deck
down the hallway, towards the back
through the door, down the stairs
into and through the cabin
surrounded by wood, no windows
spun around, five times, for good
surrounded by darkness,
no sense of direction
locked in oblivion
breathe in,
breathe out adrenaline
sounding from the depths again
pushing pardons
hearing the same old voice again,
you can come out
when you’re ready to listen
– B. Brown
(oil painting by Polish artist Justyna Kopania)
Entombed
trapped with a salvaged map,
trucking through catacombs
lit white as bone
with flames
that maimed bloodlines
sacred rhymes
made claim
as the only holy domain
he walks over
floors worn scorned
walls caked, torn
and bubbled as the ceiling
crumbles rubble
pacing down rumbling tunnels
paranoid
the thunder of stampeding
those roaming freely
the fools
with undoubtedly wicked
tools, with spools
of delusions, confusions
prayers impaired
of the ruthless
the others
deserted
by his ruling Spirit
-B. Brown
(image by Jillian Locke)
Bound
you didn’t figure
my short leash
into the picture
my shackle sores
I love to live to endure
rope lines
I’m embroidered
it is the texture
you’ve grown
so fond of
as delirious as
I am from suspension
my submission
to a grander
commission
my raw knees
from crawling
every morning
a twisted tongue
from begging
a relentless scissor
by hazing
from pledging
to the desolate revelry
my soul tearing
bearing spree
that jerks me
by the collar
when I grow weak
and damn,
did you weaken me…
– B. Brown
(image courtesy of Pinterest)
Tequila
what’s this dialect
that I’m hearin?
coatin every
careful word
I’m searin;
withholdin
a flash front,
scorchin’:
don’t be a hero!
(fireballs laughin)
butcha whims
as thick as ya skin
hard-headed
to win
(gigglin)
a drunk like me, hi
slurrin all forms
(I predict storms)
and ya rain cloud,
rumblin with
warm showers
and I just planted those
(I point)
but I think
you knew dat
(I digress)
ha,
I tink you knew dat
(I straighten my dress)
dis don’t happen erryday…
the way you…
make me so easy,
(I know,
it’s hearsay)
but, yes,
I’ll cooperate
whatever you say
like this? this way? okay
but who sent
you anyways?
I don’t remember
callin for a cab,
an escort,
fuckin right,
I’m my own money’s
worth,
and I’ll say it again-
belligerent? no-
and I’ll say it again,
who the hell sent you
anyways?
just as I was leavin’
who told you to
hold the door?
thank you,
(I’m just teasin’,
I’m just teasin…)
I just don’t
(hiccup)
see your reasonin
for stoppin an helpin
a bitter bat like me,
why you (hiccup)
you find me lovely,
don’t you?
oh how,
you’ve calmed me…
sigh, so thoroughly
so quickly
(blanketed the wics)
sedated me
you don’t
want to hurt me,
do you?
ha
(sorry)
but I can
trust ya?
I came here
alone
how did you know
I was here?
how could you?
oh
you’ve been looking
for me
everywhere?
you almost gave up
too?
ha!
you’re just
as tipsy too…
yeah
(hiccup)
yeah, but you can
trust me too
if I can
make it home
(hiccup)
then you will
too
– B. Brown
(alcohol art by Tina Stensland)