My First Blog Post

“A freeing to start,

a new beginning of me-

in this space, this time;

Hoping to spread my wings,

revealing colors of sublime;

feelings,

ones I’ve been sheltering. “

–butterfly affects

This is the first post on my new blog. I’m just getting this new blog going, so stay tuned for more in depth poetry. Subscribe below to get notified when I post new updates.

Full housed

So this self

Reflects on the assumptive

Again, me

I had to say it again to remind

Self this is therapy, like poetry

The twisted turns

I learn a back

A not knowing —dumbing

A numb to cure these—things

As the assumptive sting

Numbs my brain

So repetitive—out numbered again

Surrounded alone

Looking as thee— assumption I see

Knowing half assed

By never giving the full part of me

——

“I’m now bursting in hives; allergic to the bitch fits that held the part of me that seems to surprise—as I gaze. Now the assumptions of me leaves these strangers amazed—a real maze; from me. Wondering as if these lie for the truths I never bared to see.”

A writing for you _from me ;to Tommie.

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

To inner self center

I felt the rain fill my eyes

A sensitive sting

Nourishing what was once dry

I cite

The drops that blend

A sent to capture the light that struck

To strain

Each give in

Closing to the sound of scent

This dew

Misting free

A relief to a greater feeling

A soul moving away from —

Just to be

As Shutting surrounds

Thunder splashed a life

That breathed a new look around

—–

“I question the wrong in smelling self. What is this and if not what would it be? The findings of a feeling that moves far beyond to set free. Passion; the answer that grasp as my feet clasp the ground. Another wonder to who actually cares when your eyes are closed and there is no where else to look around—- I question”

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

The cure

Sig a ré

I’m going to do myself this favor

–Far , a long time

A mention of mine that I’ve prayed for

A go

To this bench I meet

—-a standing

Another chance to —

A cutting of myself left off the words I’d usually guess

This spreading

…

I myself grew —thinning out from time

This olde age of prime

;

I reflect again

Now sitting–aleft standing

…

I became clear of the now that I was once demanding

“this seclusion isn’t all that was–to be; as this also included other parts that are becoming just parts to see. I’ve waited as the fade of mind waited and weighed with mated time. Still–now sitting; only the words that I’d prayed are the ones I’m submitting”

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

Sill–oh.

They come alive

On today

As said , with no time for tomorrow

I follow by thread

Each gesture leading a beholding

—

A pause igniting by feeling

I question a mere being within

This leading of her again

, by a memory

Do you remember me?

As a knowing of being here

An acknowledge of me making it clear

This mark of mind

Letting all that holds and molds of me

As the chips fall and leave where they pose to be

I correct to reflect a self as, supposed to be

This direction

I’ll notate to slate within this reflection

;

Another clause—adjoining the focus

—As they are–so misunderstood

These words on this now

Reflecting a me only heard through whispers

Speaking up for the time

All that was lost —as breath created to find

This now

——“so, what do you know“

Tale me a secret; I’ve never met anyone who made whispers come alive.

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

She lives to define;
my artiste. Tommie.

(WAU) acronyms

Poetry—

The gift of a poet

I believed to be far less than what I am

This poet–i’ll let it be my poetry

As I am

This far gone influence

Too paved to be amazed

This insane comprehensive recite of me

The art of speech

For so long I allow it to be; as such this is

And also let it be by therapy

A touch

Me of my —pagne

Views from a stun with out a shame

As I , me

Maybe this is a you who believe to see

—

Poetry this — I

Only leaving a touch of all there is

Far out to me

“the abuse among us rip away the parts that cherish what life is; loving our environment. Being able to see yourself these words do more than brush–to tail or tale. A perspective is also an art which can persuade to a mind that seas the world in its own eay.” —-as I may.

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

Create lives

Poure

And naw-i don’t write, as much anymore

Too busy taken on the harbors that bore with

Let’s call these emojis

These stricken wounds that stings the —

Ok well now you see why I don’t do this anymore

What was it that I was drawing–?

Summed up to think– the reality of

It is envisioned through me

Within these gauze I let it sink

—-

A lack of—burdened for a feeling of a lack of

—

Do you–get–it , now?

I lack a respect for the respect of regret

A grievance that I have–not

And will-not, wept

—

So again—bored by the harbor of

All of these

Things I nack

Still not feeling a thing.

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

“I learned again on my own that making excuses were useless; especially when there were things that I meant to do; expecting nonetheless. Being taken as a lack thereof, with no respect. I never know what to expect. Chances I make to change behaviors that were not threats. Excuses; often make us feel useless, a seeking of acceptance. regret(?) “

Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

Still , there

Through the glooms I settle within

Unsettling a look given

What it is ; this introspection

After all the given reflection

Invades left constant fumes

—these perceptions;

Released a head of mine to my own

Demise

A misery that tainted my soul despised

—

I’ve laid and —

outcries

—-

My mind; listening to these cracks from my eyes

;

A longing of–too much

, this battery

As I slept with the depth within my own

Internally graving what was left to room

—

I released all these unspoke of

fumes

—Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

“this is the part where I would write for a lack of . “

Compassion it

Isn’t it funny..how motivation lacks

When the thing that is asked of you

just won’t come back

These words taken–hidden for ransom

This granted piece

…isn’t this ; it

An asking of –for the surpassing

To think I just blinked—

An everlasting

–outlasting this fit—fad to suit

Isn’t it funny

To know I meant all of

–that shit

Now I sit back in a gaze to amaze

gasping at the part of it

—these ones, where there lies

; and isn’t it funny

How the same power of your tongue

can be your own disguise

—-Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

“poe”

A jolting

With every step a head I yield

This once built

A now glance around this new found

So dumb founded

I still—this shutting of mind

A giving to piece of its kind

A meaning to hint at peace

I reek of the foul oder from the language it speaks

Spilling fog from my

Misjudged

What—a subtle mind

Taken of chance—by the dances of time

—

Soles from the heels disconnected

All from my– woes

Misdirected in their prime

—

Intake this —pouring of

—

Me

Closing my eyes as I blind

By the only direction I see

—Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

“Run for us”

Ther–a P

So i made a project to write

These three things; subjective to help me with, many dreams

Or call them wishes , what ever came to mind

As I cannot think of anything at this time

Writer’s block;

That’s it , standing on what ever it was that held these thoughts furthering from mine

My eyes blinded by these clouded things

Chipping away at this block of steem

I repeated these 3 things-a dozen times

Still founding–another stage of dumb

Nothing but music coming to mind

“siri play, ring the alarm”

–Mitchell, Tierra (ae)

Map this, riddle