This is what happens when you have a banger of an earworm in your head, insomnia, and you’re mad about something. So here is my parody to the tune of Chappell Roan’s "Good Luck, Babe!" Shoutout to the rhyming dictionary and a thesaurus, couldn’t have done this without you.
Resigned, abused
Community Standards insist I’m still unbruised
My data, misused
With Bortposting, cats, and celebs keeping me amused
I cannot just up and leave
How I’m gonna spam these memes?
I’m gonna stave off FOMO with passive scrolling
Chorus:
You can cuss out bigots every hour
Install plugins and adblock, use a dummy email
You can state a fact or just defend yourself
AI moderators throw you in FB Jail
Delete, babe! (Delete!)
Just delete, babe! (Delete it!)
You gotta gray your name to restore the feeling
Delete, babe! (Delete!)
Just delete, babe! (Delete it!)
You gotta gray your name to return to meaning
Who gives, a fuck?
Everything is there though viewing what you want takes luck
We are trapped, with this muck
This shit don’t help my depression, but our support network is stuck
Think I’ll finally just leave
Even though I’ll miss those memes
I just want true connection and stop this scrolling
(Chorus)
When you stay up with your phone through the hours of the night
With that glare in your eyes: cop blue with pound-six-F whites
And when you think about my sites, web two point oh
You flounder while I code, "I told you so"
I gave links to elsewhere, I told you so
I hate repeating myself, but: I told you so!
(Chorus)
You gotta gray your name to restore the feeling
You gotta gray your name to return to meaning
You gotta gray your name to restore the feeling
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
Here are some more poems I’ve written this month so far! I usually try again with prompts I find interesting, and leave room for revisiting concepts I like. And I hope you like these!
