TheGrowingPoet

Out of all the different Holiday desserts Nothing lifts the spirit More than gingerbread houses They are beautiful And look good enough to eat But making them Is no easy task Taking a trip To the local Candy section Of the grocery store Red hots, Small gumdrops, Candy canes All practical for decorating Chocolate truffles For a stone wall Royal icing Used as the glue To hold all the candy together Assembling the pieces, With careful hands, Creating a sugary masterpiece A symbol of festive flair The aroma of spices Fills the air A symphony of flavors Awakening our appetite Frosting dripping like fresh snow Down the rooftops edge While the sugar glass windows Reveals a miniature world of dreams Upon this finished creation, Children gather 'round Gazing in amazement At this sugary marvel And we all admire The beauty we built A delectable treat Beyond compare And a shared moment of joy In gingerbread houses, We find a sweet taste Of holiday magic A tasty, delightful creation And

There once was a well-known street artist Who was as clever as could be. He could make his art very lifelike Which was quite a sight to see. He liked tricking people with his art For it was all too easy. One day, while walking down the street With his art supplies in hand, He couldn't help but notice that The roads just looked too bland. If only it had a bit more pizzazz Wouldn’t that be grand? After staring at the street for a while, An idea came to his head. If there wasn’t anyone who could brighten the road, He would do it himself instead. Looking at his chalks, he thought "Why not?" He might as well go ahead. He stepped right onto the empty road Making sure no cars were coming by, It was time to set his plan into action, He might as well give it a try. He knew this project would be the best, Though he wouldn’t tell others why. With his chalk, he began to draw For an hour, or maybe two He added some black, a bit of white, And just a few touches of blue. How clever he was, for

Springtime. The most beautiful time of year, Especially in the country of Japan. The season is marked By the mass blooming of cherry blossoms, Also known as sakura. They bloom in the first promise of spring And shoot from the trees In a froth of sugar-pink petals. The cherry blossom trees Glow in the morning sun Like the divine Japanese spirits. The spring breeze brings forth These beautiful blossoms, For they cannot be seen on cherry trees Any other time of the year. Even the old, mature trees Put on such a wonderful show When the blossoms carry off in the breeze From their gnarled branches. The world should focus less on finding new wars to fight And focus more on looking for cherry blossoms to watch For elegance conquers violence More than anything else. The sakura blossoms remain beautiful And will stay beautiful for a while Until they fade and die.

I am not a person Who desires romance, Because I don't need it to be happy. Being in love with someone, Either romantically or physically, Is not that important to me. But I'm still perfectly capable of love So I'm not broken, frigid, or unlovable. I'm not a robot. I'm not confused. I'm not just focused on other things at the moment. I love my family, And I love my friends, In a familiar and platonic way. No matter what other people think, No matter what other people say, I don't see mating or dating As anything more Than a time-consuming hobby. I have nothing against it, But I'm just not interested in it. I will always be single, But free to hold my own life in my hands. I don't need to focus on romance, As it's not a priority in my life. There are lots of other things Waiting for me That suit my best interests at heart. Even if you don't understand, Please show respect for how I feel. Even though I don't want romance, I can take care of myself.

I think I know you I really think I do Stop reading this poem the moment this doesn't apply to you and we shall see. Deal? Alright... You have lived in many places But one specific part remained No matter what amalgamation The buildings that make up places Appeared in and how they sprawled The World around you always felt Huge While you felt small lost Somewhere As everyone who has ever felt alone knows: You could stand at the center of an army It wouldn't make a difference Solitude does not make Loneliness You have spend many nights In the Darkness at the edge of town With your headphones in deep A drill that lets it all flow out For a moment that is all the peace you need Because even the thought of more than that Is Utopia personified You know you couldn't Hang with a Persona like that So you shake that Monkey Off of your left arm Settling for the sound in your ears But something ate all the data on your phone And no matter how many tears fall on the curb

LOOKOUTLOOKOUTLOOKOUTLOOKOUTLOOKOUT! BEAT IS BACK! Contort the twister I was already twitching But that’s ok It fits right in Since Beat Poetry is already always moving anyway IT’S THE GREAT RESIGNATION! Let’s go and celebrate They’ll call it catastrophe Call it an anomaly I smelled it coming For ten years against the wind It’s a sense of camaraderie Born from a lack of camaraderie A brand new fantasy Three cheers for the Hikikomori Priests: No Future No Future No Future From here No Phoenix Downs No Ozone Layer No Vibrant Atmosphere Humanity has become a toy to wind up Especially if you claim our best days are centuries behind us and to get the barrage to stop, empowering you is just the stuff I know like three places to score Heroin™ That are within half an hour’s travel MAX from here. You can find generations come together there to have the same problems, and your archaic messaging somehow hasn’t solved them and ceased these sloven moments. At least the Damned

It rained for 5 hours It’s dusk. The weekend is over A haiku on strain A Dahlia of a color unimportant is bent by the weight of the residual droplets of rain water, that luckily has very low acidity out here in the rural middle of somewhere. As the sun shone casually yesterday, a Ladybug of a color unimportant landed on the Flower’s beautiful shield. The Children, spawns of houses unimportant had a few connoisseurs amongst them, who knew to take the chance to kneel down and witness the meeting of Insectoid and Flora. The Dahlia stood proudly in the perception of the Children, almost lifting the Ladybug closer to their young faces; a presentation to Gods of a faith unimportant, who require entertainment. But the Dahlia had other concerns. Concerns motivated by pain and exhaustion. A rude, old Man carelessly spilled ashes of Tobacco from an exploitative brand unimportant right onto the Flower’s kingdom, right on the village’s crossroad. That was before the Rain started

I hope I never need the best reason to stop smoking. Since the best reason to stop smoking includes your charred lungs filling with water while a nurse watches you writhe; turning you into another intrusive memory of the dread they need to talk to their therapist about. That one is permanent. I've smoked many last cigarettes in my life. They taste the best. Second only to the first ones, in one of those moments where the stress management ain't working out anymore. You may repeat this over the years to your heart's content. Till it gets harder Till it gets heavier Till it burns through too many layers You can't undo leather and reverse it back to living skin. Regret alone can never build a time machine. The affliction is already a common thing. It's not hungry, but it'll still eat off all the sheen. It's your own Hunger that moves the Teeth. "Sheesh!" He exclaimed... "Aren't you the Life of the party... It's just a little knickknack used to socialize, manage stress and

What do you think a computer might do When its master is away?  It might dream about software, old or new Whether it’s night or day.  It might daydream about deleting spam That has been left on its masters email.  It could get rid of people’s scams And avoid annoying promotions or sales.  It has its own built-in calculator Which helps their master do their math.  But its only stationary is digital paper,  But it was able to type up its own path.  Their master writes documents on Microsoft Word,  And it helped create, view, and edit.  But it wanted to write things that nobody heard,  Because it really wanted good credit.  It listens to music on Spotify, Pandora, or SoundCloud.  All those wonderful tunes it cannot deny,  Whether they are quiet or loud.  It likes look at pictures on Instagram And watching movies on Netflix.  It never has to worry about any traffic jams When it’s up to its old tricks.  A computer daydreams of lots of things When its master isn’t