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Literature Text
because we are so stupid,
they think that
our weak hearts whimper
in our uninspired chests,
that our blood pools like sludge in our feet
and fingertips,
that we aim our smiles vapidly
at our front-facing cameras
to capture nothing more than our
narcissism.
because we are so stupid,
they give us no choice
but to fight like dogs for atlas’s position—
unpaid,
but it might look good
on our resume.
(now, because we are so stupid,
we wonder why our backs hurt,
why it’s so hard to enjoy the world
when it’s resting on our shoulders, why
no matter how brilliantly our resumes sparkle,
our phones sit
dead
on our desks.)
but
because they are so stupid
we will keep smiling at the camera
because we like to see our own sharp teeth
bared at the world.
we will grow out our claws,
and we will howl our songs,
and our muscles will become strong from the weight
that we carry
and our mouths will never remain silent,
lips always touching, tongue
trapped by teeth,
no.
we will tear through the red tape they’ve
stuck across our mouths,
and we will crack open our jaws
and show our bloody tongues to the world,
and prove
beyond the shadow of a doubt
that we, too, can
produce a pearl.
they think that
our weak hearts whimper
in our uninspired chests,
that our blood pools like sludge in our feet
and fingertips,
that we aim our smiles vapidly
at our front-facing cameras
to capture nothing more than our
narcissism.
because we are so stupid,
they give us no choice
but to fight like dogs for atlas’s position—
unpaid,
but it might look good
on our resume.
(now, because we are so stupid,
we wonder why our backs hurt,
why it’s so hard to enjoy the world
when it’s resting on our shoulders, why
no matter how brilliantly our resumes sparkle,
our phones sit
dead
on our desks.)
but
because they are so stupid
we will keep smiling at the camera
because we like to see our own sharp teeth
bared at the world.
we will grow out our claws,
and we will howl our songs,
and our muscles will become strong from the weight
that we carry
and our mouths will never remain silent,
lips always touching, tongue
trapped by teeth,
no.
we will tear through the red tape they’ve
stuck across our mouths,
and we will crack open our jaws
and show our bloody tongues to the world,
and prove
beyond the shadow of a doubt
that we, too, can
produce a pearl.
Literature
Chronicles: Apathy
Again, upended--suspended,
Seeking resurgence unresisting,
Instead barrier and blockade.
Five months and fourteen nights,
The only yield an indifferent frost.
The landscape, transfigured:
A dismembered ecosystem
Of mud-turned-brick,
Flowers withered corpses in their casket-beds,
A frozen lake of dead grass lined by the
brittle forest's edge;
Resigned, with a melancholic wince;
Trees bare that never bore any leaves.
Literature
post disentanglement of self
as one listens
silence dispels
in whispers
of cosmic hiss
listen to this: [but]
do not sit and listen
nor feel your clothing
nor peer beyond thoughts
as one by one
one ceases to sense
one finds one's mind
luxuriously grand
behind closed eyelids
where everything bides
awaiting one's call
or recall
great and small
ideas will sidle
to satiate
the barren and needful
unmoving unseen
like timid vixen
epiphanies lurk
noiseless nearby
be quiet
be patient
wish one to approach
as one may
quite soundless
soul-weighted
on softest of feet
lightly becoming
of a sudden
there it is
new truth!
so well worth the wait
where silence
[yet not total sile
Literature
Damned Kids
"You wanna see something cool, Peter?"
Marnie's hair was long, shaggy. She peered at me through it. Shy. Brown eyes behind black curtains.
Every time she said that, it was an adventure. Danny'd snicker at me. "Where'd she drag you off to this time, Pete? Catch a chicken and kill it? Pull the wings off butterflies?"
The whole town thought Marnie and her family were strange. Marnie was bullied at school. One time Danny shoved a cup of worms into her locker. Everybody thought that was real funny.
I didn’t. It was stupid. Marnie was just quiet. Her mom drank a lot, didn’t leave the house much. Her dad, well. He wasn't around.
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Featured in Groups
the first poem that i've written for my poetry class this semester. we were given the first and last lines, and had to create a piece around them.
comments are always appreciated
comments are always appreciated
© 2015 - 2024 aprilwednesday
Comments9
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Excellent stuff. 