Colossal Rage

Thousands of windows

Beat white in the golden sun

Thrumming against the quakes

That erupted the city like clockwork

There, the colossal poleaxe

Threatening in the giant’s hand

Swung an arc 20 floors deep.

The city’s cries were silent in the giant’s ears

For all he heard was his rage

Spin Me a Conundrum

Spin me a conundrum

A question of sanity on a thread

Twining in my nightmares

Twisted moods of dread

Motives complicating

The answers nowhere near

Driving touch of lunacy

To make the Game of Fear

Not Talent, No.

Pieces of her writing and and words shove me through the page until I am there and have to blink away the vision, shocked that words could grab me so. Not talent, no. But the ability to craft a reader to a writer’s soul.

I actually wrote this about an author whose book I am currently reading. I am not done reading the book yet, but I hope the ending is as beautiful and as grasping as her writing. Let’s give a shoutout to the artists who inspire other artists and keep the magickal flow of passion dancing in us all.

Book I am reading: The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

From a Vulnerable Place

This week has been a very vulnerable week, as I write this from a different state about to attend a funeral. From the recent death, all the rejections I’ve gotten so far, and dipping my toes into a past that threatens to drown me, I would say that it has been challenging mentally. I tried to find a poem I have done in the past this morning before having to get ready that didn’t sting and burn to the touch of a thought, but the only one I found was one that I thought fits well to the day I had yesterday.

Resentment inhabits me from so long ago.

Alone. My family’s eyes boring into me.

Always the outcast.

No one by my side.

I never want the same for you.

Kerf in a Forest

She was a greenhorn

who made a kerf in a tree

but little did she know

the forest wasn’t pleased.

Eyes were all watching

hidden nearby

All could care less

that she was told only lies.

Sent out to awaken

the monsters of the leaves

but little did she know

the demon she unleashed.

Sorrows of Failure in the River of Dreams

Lost in my River of Dreams,

warring against the current that propels me in directions I don’t want to go,

I drown in sorrows of failure, but have glorious breath when my face rises.

I hope to reach a time where air is a given

and dreams become the land where I can walk.

May we all reach that land where we can live out our dreams and not be lost in the river forever. Keep fighting, keep rising for breath, and keep against the current that tries to pull you under.

Be a “Dope” If It Means Following your Passion

Most times a “dope”

Who sticks to his “dopey” things

Will make everyone out to be “dopes” in the end.

Examples:

*Gamers grow to make world-known games

*Someone who can’t communicate grows to help millions of kids learn to connect

*The class clown becomes a famous comedian

Then there is you. Stick to your passions and follow your dreams.

(Thought after the sad poem, I would write something funny / inspiring thanks to a #vss prompt this morning. The message : Don’t Judge. Not even yourself. Keep being you and keep following your passions because they may be the clearest road to your dreams <3)

When Was It?

When was it that I broke?

When was it when I couldn’t take rejection any longer?

When was it that I closed myself off and wouldn’t let myself feel or be happy?

I remember that carefree self who always reached.

And wanted nothing more than to love.

But now, a distant memory, I stand alone.

Only a comfort to myself.