Various Poems & Other Writing

There will be more added to this page as time goes on. For now, I'll post a personal piece of writing as a placeholder. This piece will be a poem, as most of my work is poetry or of that vernacular.

They're Coming

by Brandon

They’re coming from all over,

Walking down these roads…

The streets are filled with strangers,

If only there was someone you could know –

They’re walking from the past,

Emerging in the future –

They’re climbing,

They’re running,

They’re making themselves known.

‘They’ aren’t as foreign as you may think –

They’re you and me,

We are them.

We walk together,

Or we run apart –

But we stride towards a singular goal –

We take a pace that forces our fate to unfold.

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The Hard Lines That Must Be Resolved

It's been a year. A full 365 days that were filled with many moments of wonder, indifference, confusion, or simple joy. As life transitions, so do my own thoughts and writing styles. I wish I didn't leave for so long. I wish I had stuck to the routine of posting consistently. I wish a lot of things, but for now, I will simply reach out and attempt to balance small posts and retelling stories that I have yet to tell here. I'm no longer a Junior College student. I've traded up and began working towards a bachelors degree, but there is still time - still space that needs to be filled. While I add to my own repertoire of classical works of fiction, I also conduct a further analysis of my own life and writing. I begin to question things inside of myself that I have yet to allow beyond the courtyard of my mind. Or, simply put without flowery language, unexpressed emotions have begun to come under the scope of close observation. While my academic life has changed, my career ...

A Theme of Prose

Many years ago, when I was just a young man, I experienced the first pang of yearning for love. But, as a shy, to-myself-person, I wasn't conditioned to open myself up to another person and allow that level of vulnerability to show. In a sense, I was a clam, holding everything inside at the notion of possible danger. So, to combat the blossoming feelings and the overwhelming sense of defeat I was feeling, I turned to poetry. I turned to the one thing I could rely on to keep a secret that would never be revealed to the light of day. Crushes came, and eventually, they found their way out again. At first, there were a few interests in women, but then it became known to myself that women weren't my sole interest. Of course, some guys have a sexual identity that suddenly springs itself on everyone else before they, themselves, actually become aware of it. Others, they come to know their sexuality and embrace or reject it. I was more of a toss-up than I'd like to admit. While I...

A Locked Box, A Missing Key, And One Memory

There's no easy way to develop yourself that is sustainable outside of the greenhouse you put around yourself to grow. Perhaps a bulky, harsh statement, but it's true. I've spent my time building up to a person who's simply an anxious, vulgar, diluted mess. As hard as I try to pull myself together to be presentable, it's not happening. The Locked Box. What I mean is that my mind works best when it's left alone. Sometimes it works too well. If you listen closely, it's almost like you can hear the cogs clicking and scuffing around and around. As much as I'd like to have the motion stop, to have the noise withdraw for just a few minutes of silence, it's also what helps me to succeed. Most people might find others that motivate them, but I tend to gather inspiration like vintage clothes. I hold onto things until they become worn out, overused, and then I'll repurpose those things into new items - pillows, rags, bandanas, bags. But, I also want to...

A Walking Memoir

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