These are for you..

These are for you.. 💐

Floored,

is the man waist deep in a bed of his own flowers.

Flawed,

is the man scared to pick & bury himself in them.

You’d be picked clean apart indiscriminately in the foulest of manners,

way before they pick out a scented rose & hand it to you enamored.

Cultivate it in the highest order—

you are no doubt,

the sun, the garden & the water.

Do it yourself.

Grow yourself.

Pick yourself.

..from you.

9/2/2020

"PoetsTruMental"

learn me slowly.

learn me slowly.

please, 

be patient 

with my pages.

-pavanna reddy

as I am not ready, to turn them just yet.

For sometimes I stumble upon my words,

And they assemble into a nest

welcoming me right back home to rest.

But I never do knowing there are mines,

delicate to the slightest caress.

Read them with me as I finger the lines,

setting off data explosions with every find. 

So please,

be patient

with my pages.

As we both, have so much more to untwine.

To understand my growth & complex phases,

it is better to learn me slowly.

So you can lick your thumb and taste it

when you finally turn my pages.

-Brennan

Inspired by pavanna reddy

"PoetsTruMental"

Remind Me Why

Lovers going to love;
Beings are going to be;
Warriors are going to war;
& Poets are going to pour it all out again & again for minds that can't seem to remember this.

"PoetsTruMental"

You Might Find In Hindsight..

you might find a man more prepared for life than I was
but you won't ever find a man more prepared for you.

"PoetsTruMental"

Next Time Around

Next Time Around

I swear it never fails...
Life watched me
fall for four,
Hit for the perfect score.
Then allow them to all fall apart.
Eventually I'll get the lesson; I'll get smart.
I can even play the next one out in the dark-

When I make it to your heart
and I actually figure you out,
You'll be quick to shout:
"nigga get out!"
More in fear than you'll be in love.
When I show you as if I've had enough and begin to walk,
you'll start to think my love was just lust-
never strong enough to begin with.
But I'll just be showing you my words were far more than talk.
More in love than in fear with you,
your words and minor infractions
will cut deeper than anyone elses harshest actions.
Pain plus Pleasure equals Passion...
And I won't be able to imagine
having this style of love fit me
in a better or similar fashion.
Our past will be so intense!
Still, we'll hold on to the past tense.
What I'll do to your head will be hard to erase; Hard to rinse.
We'll just lather and repeat,
stalling under the heat of the water,
that's scalding, boiling, yet spoiling,
to our fears of being alone.
So we'll loan our bodies to each other
hoping we're collecting interest.
But we'll hardly invest the rest-
Your heart will be yours.
And my mind will be mine.
An in and out battle for control,
we'll just end up wasting each other's time.
But life is full of seconds
and every minute in it isn't a given.
The time we share is actually the power,
We'll just be holding on to hours.

~Brennan

"PoetsTruMental"

Unstitched Butterflies

Unstitched Butterflies

There’s a lesson in every lesion,

A reason for every impression.

So I occasionally undo the stitches

(At a rate of every other month in every season)

And enter in search of the forgotten caveat.

Bypassing the motifs & awing designs.

Familiarities have a tendency to keep your attention.

(Like how my name once sat atop your flower)

I bear in mind not (in heart),

The moral is what I seek,

Never the episodes-

(So I don’t recall the many nights spent under your movements)

No matter how tempting.

I can’t salvage it all,

So I never linger longer than it takes a tear to fall.

(Though my glossy eyes now match yours then)

I only take what I can bring with me safely-

The Ideas and wisdoms from the aftermath.

In no way is it ever tangible.

(Except for the pictures of you and I fixed in a happier moment)

As quickly as I’m in,

I’m out.

Stitching back up the seams to a past realm.

(Content with the immeasurable time spent playing with butterflies)

~Brennan

"PoetsTruMental"

RealEyes

RealEyes

She peers back at me with the intent to love--
By any means necessary.
Breaks away only to carry on her daily tasks;
But returns right back to the eyes that admire her.
Admiration beyond her phenotype--
Intelligence,
Principles, &
Naivete (we know not what the other always knows).
She is very aware herself as my focus--
How I blink,
Only to view her exhibition with crystal clarity;
And how I rest,
To remind me that dreams won't know a beauty like reality.
She loves the scrutiny.
I adore how her smile grows from my intimate concentration.
I love even more,
The faces she makes during penetration.
Her eyes widen with gratitude,
I personally see my worth in their magnitude.
She's crazy about me taking in her everything.
Even when I'm giving her the side eye,
My peripheral doesn't miss her complexity;
I don't overlook her strange.
Nights spent wishing,
Days spent searching,
For someone to notice--
With eyes that are omniscient,
That reflect upon ourselves.
Realize our value exists inside each others eyes,
The reason we walk the earth for--
Find eyes that make you worth more,
Fine eyes that don't lie.

~Brennan R.


"PoetsTruMental"

Always Time for the Truth

I told you everything for a reason…

If the weather was to change

At moment’s notice,

I informed you-

You would be prepared for the seasons.

I was trying to make you my future…

But the more I unwrapped the present

I found a link to your past-

Felt less like your man

And more like an intruder.

I apologize if you feel as if I wasted your time…

I couldn’t trust

What I loved.

You based it on

Too many lies.

A truth can unravel at any moment…

So at anytime,

If anyone

Ever asks you about your past-

Own It.

~Brennan Brenoso

"PoetsTruMental"

Come September

Come September (August 13, 2010)

It’s not you, it’s me.

When I’m most elated, my guards are at their highest.

I don’t believe it’s too good to be true.

But I do have this feeling that what is good isn't necessarily true.

I don't know why that it is,

So I may pester you until I do.

I just want to be in control of the Fall when it comes,

Because it will come.

I won't forget to remember-

Come September.

"PoetsTruMental"

St. Tru

St. Tru

All my life,
I've lived on St. Tru.
Never ever giving anyone reason, to doubt what I do.
But my mind never built this place fair for two.
And you, desperately wanted onto my St. Tru.
YOU?
The one who isn't ashamed to try and play me for a fool.
I'm Sorry-
And that will be my only apology-
That is something I can never share with you.

~Brennan

"PoetsTruMental"

Locked Myself Out

Locked Myself Out

The words are inside
Full of insight
I feel them picking at locks
And for some reason
I'm locked out
As if these thoughts
Can't be redeemed at the moment
They would cower in the presence of the light
But my words are always therapy
I swear I need a session
Still
Nothing's seeping out
I'm forced to do without..NO!
I need to keep picking...


"PoetsTruMental"

We arE motionS tale

We arE motionS tale

Again, they scream adapt!
They scream change!
I finally wonder can I?
The hostile days from where I have come,
Does not have me readily on standby.

After all,
After every long fought night is a new evolution
Now, with others alike, I finally wish to conserve.
Revolutions do not always begin from the bottom up,
Time has come for us to preserve!

We spout back:
“You adapt, you change!”
You rarely even entertain if you‘re capable.
Come your turn to give back,
Unnecessary battles become the only way to break you.

Your dreams don’t equate my reality,
But our realities perpetuates your dream!
Our vitriol swells in this monstrous of a culture-
Selling us various forms of hallucinatory capital,
As you pick at us living dead like the vulture.

We plant the seeds that grow your arms wider!
Ever since the days of our fathers!
But you resist change for the better?
I swear we have been standing face to face with Lady Liberty all this time
And most of us have never even met her!

Produce some earnest scruples instead of capital!
Manifest our destiny!
America, constantly we are motion’s tale!
We will Love you no more!
No, not if you wear emotion stale.

~Brennan Brenoso

"PoetsTruMental"

Gripping Points

Gripping Points

My hands climb your figure like a mountain side,
Surveying the gripping points you possess.
I appreciate your hands doing the same
While we kiss with our tongues like we're at war-
A sexual war affair.
I feel your curves
And immediately know
Every twist and bend of your flesh
Will serve a purpose.
I genuinely began with your eyes,
Since they did have a grip on me.
You're full in hips,
The best reference point to steady and pace the rides.
Pleasantly thick from top to bottom,
Allows so much to be given while getting.
Your hair,
Flows down your back,
Which is like a magnet to my palms and fingers
And I don't want to pull away.
No, not yet.
You grab below,
Entering lock and key,
Propelling us to the point of no return.
I playfully battle with your hands-
The obvious gripping points-
Enclosed with each of my own.
Trying to regain control
You're overpowered by the pleasurable pain.
Still you never just remain still.
Our energy drives us to switch positions every now and then-

You top us off as I direct our gyrations at your waist.
My hands go lower and clutch your thickness.
You lean on my chest as if for better posture,
And ride.
I then turn us around-
You twice over, so that you're on your stomach-
And you can barely stomach me
As I bottom out within.
From your belly to our sides,
My only gripping points are your breasts,
One in each hand.
Let one go
And I prop a leg to the ceiling.
In this stretch of time,
We're gripping onto each other
And expressing pent up feelings.

Conceivably, your lips are gripping points too.
Flowing with ecstasy,
You moan out my name,
Knowing I hang onto every word you say
And every sound you make.
I aim to break you,
As you do me,
In the best of ways.
If only for the moment,
Hold me firmly.
Where ever you choose to,
No matter how tight you hold on to me,
Whether your hands make their way from the top of my head,
To the surface of my neck, to deep within the skin of my back
Or to the sheets we sweated on, as you pierce the pillows with your teeth,
You won't be able to grasp what I'm doing to you,
Having giving me your gripping points.
~Brennan Brenoso

Half Full

Half Full

Let's,
Take our cups
And,
Raise them up
And,
Toast to the life that we're beginning to see.
Well,
I see you
And,
You see me
And,
I have a feeling something amazing is about to be.
So please,
Smile me your best
And,
I'll do the rest
And,
Meet me halfway every now and then.
I can,
Open you up
And,
Drink from your cup
And,
Still fill you back up to the top again.
I'm so,
Full of myself
And,
It's making you melt
And,
You have me believing that I have your key.
Well I,
Know that I do
And,
It will fit you
And,
I believe that we are fitting to see.
I've learned,
Positive times
And,
Positive minds
And,
Attraction leads to much greater events.
So,
Take my hand
And,
Let life show the plan
And,
If not now, it'll soon begin to make sense.

You and I,
Are merely children of the sky.
>Half full of ourselves? Yes!<
But still,
We're searching for the wings to this poem,
To fly us back home.

-Brennan Brenoso

"PoetsTruMental"

Hate Me

Hate Me

Hate me!
If that's the only way to get over me,
Take it!
Don't look back!
Because if you do,
You'll see me.
I'll still be standing here.
Too sure to move on.
So you have too.
We both know the deal
And you picked the best option,
On our once abundant table of choices.
Now, dusty and bleak, it erodes in the dark.
As did our other decisions.
I'm tired of always breaking your heart-
With loving words of sincerity;
With raw feelings unmatched by any other;
With the given sensations that seemed nothing but ethereal.
All misconstrued by your insecurities.
And my ego,
My ego never stays idle
When you come to me on your terms.
There's only but so much time
That my mind has,
Before it no longer enshrines
And wonders of your past.
It happened so many times before.
Leaving us oso sad.
Like you once had writ above your wrist.
I'm beginning to envision the "oso"
Invisibly dripping like a slit.
Yet, I keep still
Seeming as if I'm waiting for your return.
But I'm not.
Really, I'm not.
I'm just keeping that part of me alive.
Intricately, I keep record of my growth,
Through you.
Naturally allowing a bed for you,
Whenever you do,
Make your way, and
Come back.
So what do we do,
With these irregulars cycles of tainted love?
I want you to be happy
And there isn't much I can do-
I'm stuck in my ways.
But you figured it out-
Or, suitably put,
You figured a way out.
In order to move on
And not fall again,
And again..
You have to hate me!
More than you ever loved me!
Hate me baby.
Hate me!

~Brennan Brenoso

"PoetsTruMental"