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Jason Brierly
Jason Brierly Wasteland Biblebelt / United States, Male, 32
Profession :
poet
Education :
School of hard knocks
Stage
Points

About Me : My name is Jason. Addictions.. Ive had many.. Pain? Ive had A LOT... Love? Had it. Pain? Yes... Family? Lost it.. Kids? Had them.. (did I mention pain?) Ask me ... more »

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  • Jason Brierly (10/4/2013 7:56:00 PM) Post reply

    Read mine and offer critique, and I'll do the same for you?

  • Jason Brierly (10/4/2013 7:19:00 PM) Post reply

    Any chance of a critique?

    It's all in the name


    Pointless and aimlessly,
    The poet takes flight.
    Unaware at the moment,
    Of what he will write.
    The precursor begins the flow,
    The go,
    The,
    " He knows that he wants to write" ,
    Yet doesn't quite know,
    What avenue of creation to take.
    Slowly,
    And surely
    As the creek will rise,
    Creative juices aplenty,
    His art takes form
    As ink meets with paper,
    And,
    With a little help from a friend,
    The words woven intricate,
    Lay out a form unknown.
    Interlocked and likened literature Of a duly noted nonsensical.
    Deep and steeped
    In stark contrast
    From the norm of poetry,
    My flowetry takes form.
    " How B?
    Words so intricate in flow?"
    " A mad man's internal" ,
    I say.
    Thirty years in the making,
    A mad man's nonsensical
    Takes on,
    In a busy mind of mine.
    Thought odd and weird,
    A style unique;
    A story of epic proportions unfolds
    As a knightly troubadour led astray,
    Cuts a lyrical hand,
    Opens his mind,
    And in doing so,
    Opens a vein of creativity
    That spews forth...
    This...
    Tlowetry...
    Little upper thought,
    And
    The proverbial flood gates
    Of my mind open,
    And with a thought,
    Brain sends message
    Through billions of electrical signals.
    Message sent down wire,
    Through arm into a hand,
    Weak and weary
    From hours of holding this pen.
    And,
    At this pen
    The electric signal stops.
    It...
    Ceases..
    From there,
    The ink dances a waltz
    Across a once blank paper,
    Now...
    Not so blank.
    An ink released
    To paint upon this canvas,
    A picture unseen.
    A picture is worth a thousand words?
    Well,
    Picture this...
    My words
    Are worth a million images.
    Images that,
    Through a sequence of words
    Rendered upon parchment,
    Intricate in detail so...
    Deep...
    And meaningful,
    That images grow
    And appear upon the mass's,
    Impressionable mind.
    Like this....
    " The lovers entwined, legs interlocked. A love so deep; a love so inspiring and moving unknown. Two souls merge as one... heartbeat... breath in unison, and from between one's lips, under breath, and heartfelt, the verbal archer takes aim, and release... " I" ... slowly and quietly... " love" ... fluidly into the ear canal... " you" ... to vibrate ever so soothingly, reverberating upon the ear drum. A lover's passion so great. Doing a dance of passion... forever locked in a soul mate's embrace..."
    And,
    As my flowetry free form
    Becomes the image in your mind
    And you see the two
    Entwined in prose,
    You heed the gravity of my words
    Intricate.
    The words aflow,
    To impress upon your mind
    That
    " Million picture, flicker show" ,
    And you realize,
    Truly within...
    " A mad man's nonsensical" ?
    Truly not nonsense.
    And,
    With that,
    A lovely picture is painted,
    And
    For fear of over doing
    With verbal vomit,
    Intricate B...
    must part...

    Intricate B

  • Jason Brierly (10/4/2013 5:27:00 PM) Post reply

    My name is Jason.
    Adictions..
    I've had many..
    Pain?I've had A LOT...
    Love?Had it.
    Pain?Yes...
    Family?Lost it..
    Kids?Had them.. (did I mention pain?)
    Ask me what I do for a few living?
    I am a poet..
    Is there at least one sort of drug, in my sustem every day?
    Yes.. but what's a day with a little dizzy?
    I bury my pain with booz, and drugs, and various billy bad ass reindeer games.
    Do I hurt?More than words in the English language can explain.
    What do I want out of life?
    To be happy..
    Will I ever be?
    Probably not.
    I am an American fuck up.
    I, in complete honesty with myself, will probably end my life on my own terms. Because fuck you! !
    Because fuck the world! !
    I want to exploit my feelings, and live off of the riches, but realistically and logically speaking, I will drink myself to death before I see a penny..I am depressed.
    I constantly question my sanity.
    I don't talk to people about shit that needs talked about
    I'm a tough guy
    But am emotionally soft.
    My only outlet for my pain is my writing,
    And it is quickly losing its therapeutic properties.
    I have written pain on paper that none but I will EVER lay eyes upon in the guise of poetry..
    Pain that people can't fathom.
    Pain of losing 3 of the only 4 things that ever mattered to me..
    My kids.
    My sanity...
    My soul, ...
    My name is Jason,
    And I am an American fuck up.
    I am a wasted youth.
    I am an American poet.
    Ihave a fractured mind.
    I am Intricate B.

    I have quite the eclectic writing style.
    I write a lot of my insanity in pieces like

    Smile's all agape

    Lollipops aplenty
    on candy cane lane.
    An array of all the colors
    Within the spectrum of the rainbow.
    Fluffiest clouds
    Of pure white cotton.
    Every structure, and tree, and sign, and rock,
    Wrapped delicately and thoroughly,
    In plush pillows of goose down.
    The ankle high,
    'Silky soft to bare feet' grass,
    Expressing shades of green,
    That define the color..
    Elated with childlike wonder
    And innocence,
    A kiddo at Disneyland,
    I take off running full speed...
    With a careless disregard
    To possible injury,
    I leap head long in classic
    Superman style,
    Testing the supple, down bumpers.
    In attempt to reach forth to catch myself,
    I find it impossible to extend my arms.
    No matter.
    I land with a light padded thud.

    On my feet,
    Again with the same childlike drive as before,
    One foot before the other,
    I take off in full on sprint..
    Goofy look upon my face,
    Tongue extended to its limit,
    I aim with tenacity,
    For the closest sweetness of a red lollipop.
    As I reach it I am stopped,
    Dead in my tracks.
    Tongue, a millimeter removed
    From sweet successful contact,
    I recieve instead
    The 'no taste' of invisible force field.
    And as I'm shaken violently
    From a thorazine induced trance,
    My brilliantly colored,
    Happy place of a world shrinks,
    Down to an uncomfortable
    8x8 padded cell.
    " GOD DAMNIT! ! " I scream,
    My nose still itching like a mofo..
    Unable to receive sweet relief
    From just one go over with my
    'Restrained in the happy jacket' finger.
    Fuck...

    And of my wife in poems like,

    Random acts of unconditional love..


    It's all in the hips.
    The curves.
    My queen's physique.
    They speak for themselves. From afar, they scream, " TAKE NOTICE! ! " Sleek and sensual,
    the smooth ups and downs,
    the joy ride of
    hips and thigh.
    The symphony springs forth
    with all that is...
    woman...
    She has the perfect
    hour glass
    figure, the
    classic Eve body.
    I long for her,
    I yearn to have her
    curvy luscious body;
    Stripped and bare,
    and pressed firm
    against my soul and body.
    My hands make their way
    to her curvaceous hips,
    and draw her close.
    Against my body,
    I feel her warmth.
    Against my skin,
    I feel her ever soft,
    radiance
    and flesh.
    Oh, hand,
    do your dance,
    as my fingers waltz
    across her belly,
    light enough to feel
    a slight shiver
    of the sensation.
    Hand,
    make your way back,
    over hip,
    and down slightly
    and there...
    Her plumpness,
    personified by her cute,
    perfect
    little butt.
    My love
    lets a lone breath escape,
    warmth
    across the nape of my neck,
    and
    with a gentle squeeze,
    a soft moan
    departs from her lips
    to meet with my
    Ever waiting ear drums.
    Fingers
    tracing that
    which makes my queen,
    100% woman,
    leaving behind a sensation
    which releases
    those much sought after
    pheromones
    and endorphins
    and chemicals
    which so dearly I crave.
    The essence of my queen.
    Scent de love.
    Chemicals released,
    my thoughts race
    for clarity
    as my body does
    that which is natural.
    What was not,
    now is.
    Hand on cheek,
    I draw her in.
    Breath on breath.
    Hearts beat in unison.
    The,
    " I need you and you need me"
    perfection.
    Her eyes shut
    in the passion
    of the moment.
    Her lips,
    two beautiful blushing saints
    which I hold
    so dearly,
    connect with my
    -thirsty for her love-
    lips.
    The majestic power
    of desire.
    And love.
    And perfection.
    And the,
    " Blind to the world,
    besides the woman before me" .
    My woman.
    My love.
    Soul mates.
    Lips connect,
    and silence.
    My thoughts cease,
    and silence.
    Eyes closed,
    I recognize within my mind,
    that in my hands,
    I hold my reason.
    My very essence
    for being,
    my purpose to draw
    the next breath.
    Lips pressed,
    tongues doing their dance,
    I let slide
    what I've held ever so patiently back, into her perfection.
    Fireworks.
    A lover's passion erupts
    in my heart
    and srtrikes me to my soul,
    and very core
    of what makes me,
    and I am overcome
    with emotion
    as I realize I have it.
    She and I have...
    it....
    The thing that drives a man.
    The thing that everyone wants...
    Craves...
    Needs...
    Looks for...
    Man woman and child alike...
    True,
    100% pure,
    unadulterated,
    unconditional love.
    Her nails dig deep
    into my back as my manhood
    is swallowed,
    engulfed by her womanhood.
    The perfection of life.
    The sacred feminine.
    Life producer,
    and sustainer extraordinaire.
    Muscles tense and throb
    and in,
    and in,
    and in.
    Tongues locked in passion,
    breath heavy and deep,
    hearts do the flutter
    known only by lovers,
    as they beat
    in unison for one another.
    Locked in the depths
    and heat of passion,
    soul mates eternal do their slow dance.
    The dance of two becoming one.
    Two souls,
    fused as one.
    She.
    And I.
    And then the moment.
    Bodies pressed firm.
    Deep inside
    that which I hold with absolute reverence,
    our eyes open and meet.
    Her eyes,
    the most beautiful hues of brown,
    the spark of passion
    resides.
    The light of love,
    is ever present.
    The mating of two souls
    branded as one,
    a love
    lasting longer than forever
    is set in stone,
    cast in platinum
    and solidified to stand
    as a testament
    to those seeking love.
    Erected as a shrine
    to house
    the absolute truth
    to those
    seekers of love, of the eternal brand.
    Our love,
    a testimony of purity
    in it's most righteous of forms, stands tall
    as a beacon for others.
    The perfect example.
    Of love in it's purest of forms.
    As we reach passion,
    together as one,
    our eyes lock and then...
    Nothing else matters....
    Nothing else exists...
    The she..
    And the I..
    Just us..
    A climax to rival
    the tallest of structures
    or mountains.
    Such an immense burst of passion,
    the angels cry.
    As my soul
    pours into her,
    it's she,
    and I.
    Then calm.
    And peace.
    The gentle throb
    of all that is woman.
    The light pulse of
    what was once limp.
    The lovers rest.
    Bodies pressed firm.
    A slumber much earned.
    The release of such an immense
    radiant power
    generated only,
    by the fusing of two souls.
    A rest much earned.
    Two, fused as one, sleep.
    Dreams.
    Peace.
    Rest...

    Like me or love me, you'll find nothing but raw emotion in my writes..

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