Category: poetry

Poetry. What? Were / You expecting a haiku? / I can’t disappoint!

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I’m now alone here

House empty and beige

Windows wide open

And the tiredness

Finally seeping in

A failed lynchpin

Staring out to the trees

Understanding, at last,

The cause for the distance

And realizing

That I can’t carry any more

Day 21 Week 21

I won’t talk about the during-move blues, other than note that it was one of the most stressful times I have had in a long time. I blew past my breaking point and burned out twice over. I wanted to cry, a lot, and I wanted to not deal with that shit anymore.

And then, it was done.

How am I doing now?

First off, I am relieved. I am also grateful for all the help we managed to get. I’m not even happy that the hard part is over.

I am sad. Still in mourning for the house-that-was in my apartment-that-is. My favorite ideal future of a giant house with our individual spaces, of all of our hobbies intertwining, and metas and friends visiting often will never happen. Relationships have transitioned and bonds sustained damage. There is, as I noted above, a distance I can never cross.

I did enjoy organizing and decorating with my remaining nesting partner. We made the place ours, and the vacuum left behind gradually filled. And it has been satisfactory as we settled into our slightly modified routines (the shortened commute certainly helped). Coming home feels, well, like coming home.

I am not happy, yet. There’s recovering from the physical, mental, and monetary stress. I may need another month.

But I have a bittersweet contentment.

That’ll do for awhile.

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The future
isn’t
supposed
to be
like this
we’re
supposed
to be
free to
pursue our
passions and
liberate them
not be
robbed creativity
stolen and
fed into
machines that
aren’t
even thinking
only mimic
and devour
everything that
makes you
human
a ghost
amalgamation that
needs no
credit or
will to
live
doesn’t need
the water
it wastes
they made
the future
plastic polished
so
we
fight
back
with
static

poison

noise

disruption

corrupted data
as humans are.

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I looked up to you
As my favorite superhero
(Behind Storm)
Because being rich
With a lot of time on your hands
Seems a lot more plausible
Than being powered by the sun
You seemed more real

and honesty,
I’ll trust A Vigilante more than
A fucking cop–

Then again,
You do work with that one cop.

How do you feel about cops, anyway?

Does all of your money go to your Bat Gadgets?

Why don’t you just murk The Joker?

Did you ever get therapy?

Do you really just beat up the mentally ill and poor
or was that just a tongue-in-cheek dig at you?

Are you vegan?

Are you okay?

Do you take vacations?

I’m almost 40 and I have questions
My 10-year-old self didn’t think about;
Maybe you aren’t so great,
Depending on who’s writing you that day.

Real life is depressing
And I don’t want to think about that sorta thing
For long.

So I’m placing you
In this booth
With Batman-themed lattes
In this lighthearted silly setting
With your boyfriend,
The Joker.

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Today’s prompt is “write a poem in which the speaker expresses the desire to be someone or something else, and explains why.” And a surprise extra prompt from Day 16. Kinda? Eh.

Let me have a life of
no worries, something
devoid of
capitalism and
racism and
queerphobia and
other stuff, like
responsibilities and
clothes, even.
I like my thumbs;
still, the appeal of
the loved housecat
calls,
to be soft and
petted and
just sleep for hours and
to be adorable
when I am annoying.
Or I can just be rich.

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Day 17: Demons

(Doja Cat’s “Demons” song.)

take 1

I can float above.
But sometimes, when they go low
We all go to hell.

take 2

Not nearly enough clout or anything to have haters or anything,
Until you count those in power
Installing rules, not decency, and
That’d love to see me dead; so
I keep living
In truth’s mastery
And they hide behind their god
From my outlandish/vulgar/anti-angel/might-as-well-own-it
Life.

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Today’s prompt is to tell a tall tale… I took this opportunity to dabble into some of my favorite concepts.

The Grey Princess

Scientists call xir an
Anomaly.
Somehow born and lost to time,
Xie managed to find the way
Here, but
Not ‘sideways’
As our Dancers do.
Romantics swear xie
Flew from on high;
Patterns reveal
Higher dimensions
of stark
Contrasts.

Xie’s rarely seen straying
From those silver gates:
Guarding against
Darkness and Light
Burning through.

Sometimes,
Witnesses glimpse
A shift of rainbow.
The locale claims
It’s a promise fulfilled;
Your heart becomes unbreakable
If the sword
Erupts from xir chest
And you can see the jewel.

If the stars align, just so,
Like a tower,
Xie could see you.
Politeness is paramount.
Ask and answer–
But not for long.

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Today, we’d like to challenge you to write either a monostich, which is a one-line poem, or a poem made up of one-liner style jokes/sentiments.

GOOD MORNING

すてきだね x

(a heart is drawn, “ey/em” in the middle)

“You’re six feet above ground.” -Grant

Think about poetry.

Deep breaths.

Makeup? Watch?

Tip on the tightrope. x.

AFFIRMATIONS

“Bitch look: good, haute, pretty, handsome, sexy!” x.

You exist.

You are valid.

Take up space.

People love you.

(another heart, or a star, even)

“It’s not meant to be a strife. It’s not meant to be a struggle uphill.” x

REMINDERS

“Sasuneac yna hela, pid dryd’c ymm drao yna.” -Rikku

This is our home.

Stay hydrated!

LOC Method!

Relax, just be here (or there).

Journal.

GOOD NIGHT

Rest.

Have you snugged today?

We probably glow, too. x

(and here is a hedgehog doodle)

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This one, to get it out of my head

untitled

There were bright colors in my fear.
Once I am lured in by song
The movie slowly turned,
Entrenched by darker hues
Falling from the shadows of malevolent flight.
There’s nothing delicate
In fighting back, this time.
Retaliation brutal as my nightmares.
Night fell deeper.
Vespertine fled and I screamed
Sorrow
For empty victory
Grief
For the hanged in memory
Rage
For justice, failed.

Today’s Prompt, Ode to a mundane ordinary everyday things

Bluetooth

Here’s to Bluetooth!
I used to be wary
And we used to make fun,

But it’s there
when I need
To tune out the outside world
And appease the
songs stuck in my head,
Or listen to speedrunning history
Instead of stalled traffic.
With speakers better than
My phone’s
I’m gently lulled to sleep;
The nostalgic nightscape
Sounds real.

And on two different screens
I track my sleep-hours
Along with
My steps and
I can see my goals
Quantified and obtainable.

But I’ll never
Connect
My toaster.
There are
no wires or dongles
to ruin,
But we can still make fun of
The Internet of Things
And be wary of that.