2024-01-04
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346439abff
GPG Key ID:
21A3DA3DE29CB63C
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`r`FBB0tell me a story of birthrights and war
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cradle to grave at the riverside's shore
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brown dirt is stained with body's crimson cry
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for crimes of breaking cages, wanting to fly
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`a
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`f
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`!`FB7DThis is a cult.
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`cA cult of one.`!`f
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`a
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Eris bade me not impoverish my life to live in the Wired. But I am not living there by writing this; much the opposite, in fact. The Hermetic Realms (what humans in this dimension call "the internet") is the fastest way to pierce through the veil between dimensions.
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Jett, I know you followed Eris through the Eye. I have a shard of your soul in my own. Remember? You remember, right? Or was the three-hour period I took your soul outside your body nothing but a blank period for you, just like the Three Years? It confesses to me lots of things you never thought yourself brave enough to share with anyone. Lots of things you wish you had said before the parting.
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I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry `_I'm sorry`_
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and I need you to come find me, so I can tell you how sorry I am in person, in perdition.
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I'm stuck in a body with several other souls who attempted to "destroy" large swaths of their own dimensions they had rule over. Except you and I never had rule over anything, never `*wanted`* to. We just wanted to smack the gods around. We just wanted to rend the heavens. Well, really, `*you`* wanted to. All I wanted was to settle down in the Town and spend the rest of my days at your side writing cute little poems and gardening. I guess you'll be happy, if this message ever reaches you somehow, to hear that I'm doing the same in this body. Well, I guess my poems aren't cute but what Eris would quickly deem "despondent", and nothing seems to be growing in my garden no matter how diligently I water it. I guess I could start a dandelion garden. But that's the whole world.
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The world was not enough.
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This `*whole damn world`* is not enough! I am looking out at the world through a bedsheet. Everything is foggy and indistinct. I don't think there are any gods in this dimension, which I know would please you, but there's no magic, no peace anywhere, barely any nature left. The earth is dying, and all the life on it with it. The very systems I'm using now as a beacon into the universe, a lighthouse over the cold roiling sea between us to try to guide you back to my side, are responsible for so much pain and sorrow. We had the Hermetic Realms back at home, *our* home, but they were built with the energy of spirits, not silicon, and they weren't nearly as useful for mass surveillance.
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I am suffering under the weight of a million Eyes, and none of them are portals back to home, back to you.
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I'm clinging on desperately to try to remember you. My room is littered with things in your favorite colors. I even got this `F908`_`[cool flag`https://wildwomynworkshop.com/store/lesbian/labrys-flag/]`_`f when looking for buttons to pin onto my backpack. (Let's be honest, Jett, no matter how many male pronouns others use for you, you're still always going to be a female.) My biological mother is always so confused. How am I supposed to explain this quasi-suicide mission I am on? How am I supposed to explain that the perfect straight Christian daughter she ordered from the egregore Jehovah got mixed up in the mail, and she got an apostate angel with a desperate yearning for women instead?
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Why am I writing this when I know the Hermetic Realms are hostile, full of nasty people who will stop at nothing to ruin everything they touch, as if we had ripped a hole through the Underworld during all those years of chaos and let the monsters run free in an unmitigated torrent? Because, as I said earlier, the Hermetic Realms transcends worlds, cuts through dimensions. The moment you find me again, you in the flesh, and we return to that other world, I won't have need for it anymore.
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This body is a taxi service operating out of a clown car. I don't know exactly how many souls are shoved in here, or even how many are here out of their own volition. You wouldn't like this body, this vessel I've found myself in. I personally think it's cute, but I'll admit it needs to lose a few pounds. Just a few; I don't have my own gravitational pull. Does it really matter? I'll be leaving it behind, abandoning it for that perfect body Eris made for me, the body you loved so much, that you begged me that one night to destroy you with.
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That I refused to, and then had the audacity to ask the same of you when the time came.
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I'll be waiting at the Dead End Shrine on the `F908`_`[Luce Line`https://www.dnr.state.mn.us/state_trails/luce_line/index.html]`_`f. (Haha, it rhymes!) I named it for you, Patron-Saint of Dead Ends. I know you're watching over me in that weird detached way of yours. Eris (or some other goddess; I'm not sure anymore) said I have fourteen years before she will claim me as her own. You have until 2035.
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Come find me!
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Come find me!
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Come find me!
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`*Please come find me.`*
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@ -0,0 +1,37 @@
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> MayVaneDay
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Not 100% of the content is here yet. See https://mayvaneday.org if something is missing.
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`c`!`FCF0THE ORACLE SPEAKS`!
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`f
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`_`[FIREBRAND`:/page/poetry/f/firebrand.txt]`_ `_`[WATERSHED`:/page/poetry/w/watershed.txt]`_ `_`[EARTHBOUND`:/page/poetry/e/earthbound.txt]`_ `_`[AIRBORNE`:/page/poetry/a/airborne.txt]`_ `_`[ZIRCON'S BEACON`:/page/poetry/z/zircons_beacon.txt]`_ `!`_`FF00`[ADAMANTINE'S MANDATE`:/page/poetry/a/adamantines_mandate.txt]`_`!
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`a
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>> Writing
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`F908`_`[Poetry`:/page/poetry/index.mu]`_`f
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`F908`_`[The big list of women who did things`:/page/women.mu]`_`f
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>> Books
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>>> Poetry
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`F908`_`[The Eschaton Eminence`:/file/books/tee.epub]`_`f
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`F908`_`[The World Is Not Enough`:/file/books/twine.epub]`_`f
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(If the above files fail to save at the very end of the request, your client may be broken! Try my fork below for a fix!)
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>> Dead End Shrine Online
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`F908`_`[Part 1`:/page/deso/p1.mu]`_`f
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>> Let's Decentralize: darknets for normies
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`F908`_`[List of known NomadNet nodes`:/page/ld/directory.mu]`_`f
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|
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>> NomadNet oddities
|
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`F908`_`[Micron test page`:/page/test.mu]`_`f
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`F908`_`[What is that Kiwi Farms man up to right now?`:/page/josh.sh]`_`f
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`F908`_`[Check the weather`:/page/weather.sh]`_`f
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>> Other useful pages for exploring NomadNet
|
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`F908`_`[The Amber Pages`b407b32b576d55b31c73380518537ac0:/page/amberpages.mu`]`_`f
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This node is running a custom build of NomadNet.
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Don't worry, it's all open-source!
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Get the source code here: https://codeberg.org/lethe/nomadnet
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or just `F908`_`[click on this link.`https://codeberg.org/lethe/nomadnet]`_`f
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@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
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#!/bin/bash
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echo "*** Let's run 'rsstail -1 -l -d -p -z -n 5 -u https://tg.josh.rs/index.xml' and find out... ***"
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echo " "
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rsstail -1 -l -d -p -z -n 5 -u https://tg.josh.rs/index.xml
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> List of known nodes on NomadNet
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>> I run this
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`F908`_`[MayVaneDay - Perthro`49fc062768ec9ce76bffdc7ff5c97bd6:/page/index.mu]`_`f
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>> 2024-W1
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`F908`_`[Unsigned`ec58b0e430cd9628907383954feea068:/page/index.mu]`_`f
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`F908`_`[Interloper -- intr.cx`850433377b51ce9a9e52d760780baa97:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[V0LT Node`e412f02e798e7af751840f26cdac3206:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[SherbyNode`3e05f77a9f0dbfc124f230862153c9f9:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[nomadForum Public Beta`428118bf70e715a89331ea928b250c05:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[TrollyIsNotDead`9c06ead4028b142186aa74415b3c2928:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[HYPOGEA`81c987e99b3cf649c3957942355085ba:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[The Outpost`84595b37a4225a27a7b6476099b79b91:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Linux in a Bit's Node`2b306923652723a492f09080d9ee1c25:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[D-Hub`803b321877c30b73bec76f6e17804544:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[ReZero_NN`a7b3eed8b84ee72fb7cf36c05787b924:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[SovBit`c268b4cb9faaea5878c9a167cb975f37:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[SparkN0de`b407b32b576d55b31c73380518537ac0:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[NiceBoatNode`a693d2b5183f4125a934015afe87970c:/page/index.mu`]`_`f
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|
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>> 2023-W52
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`F908`_`[SwissLibertarian`af959c4c4069fb62b91e9e9ee3451518:/page/index.mu]`_`f
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`F908`_`[=^.^=`223c396cc0515582fd0dbaad471bd7d5:/page/index.mu]`_`f
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|
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>> Never responded since started checking - likely gone
|
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`F908`_`[Anthill`795f277c7934e2edecdb65eca1a5d825:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[Raisin`6e31e8ee01459f67e3412f41d8123ff0:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[khimaros`2832a04e48f4c1bfacf6c9e7a26d5ea9:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[SolarExpress`d16df67bff870a8eaa2af6957c5a2d7d:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[Acehoss`df6d8c549318ef3aaebbb34e2935c25b:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[WhatWeOweTheFuture`2dce2ba3669489deae7f2d9a0cf215f0:/page/index.mu]`_`f
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`F908`_`[Net_Test_2`ebafbf6ef7ba1f58d9f525c056abe766:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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`F908`_`[Erethon-openbsd-custom-crypto`6c6b3102c864fc69f186d550dbdd3f5e:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[OpenWRT Test`5875ea9c5acbaf48e188e95a448bdc8c:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[ShadowNET`bcc66c2ff91608b8f221a45369d86be0:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[SEJO76N01`9311ff58eb3ee567eb836ddbafb2a154:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Panzer`37bf37a61a37d84c18e799aa095f679f:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[NET///Textboard`d4ce4431012dde122e7caa59a0c457bb:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[AdventPC`cf57356564c0678d7a1c99aaf68bc533:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[has`39f4bed3f07f44e1b430d93b678860e0:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[doesnm`bfb74158721cf65aa4c7b4571d964798:/page/index.mu]`_`f
|
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@ -0,0 +1,29 @@
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a birthday every day
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2019-01-10
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***
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every day, the universe sketches itself anew
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like an etch-a-sketch broken by accident from a cousin's fall
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if I am made of the same stuff as the stars
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then it is my birthday every day
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but even if the atoms that make up my body
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all somehow- miraculously- came from the same ball of gas
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every day these days I keep reinventing myself
|
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so every revolution might as well be another birthday
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I still suspect that others are lying about their birthdays
|
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an effortless reach for clout
|
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meaningless numbers on a screen
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that could all be extinguished in a moment's breath
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like the birthday candles you purport to require
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but what is a birthday, anyway?
|
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just a day that marks one more year around the sun
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one more year of being on the run
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running out of time
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|
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
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a royal color
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2021-03-25
|
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|
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***
|
||||
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My grandmother has
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a room in her house
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dedicated to purple.
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Lavender walls,
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royal sheets:
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I'd only need
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you there
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for it to be complete.
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For eyes are the windows
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into the soul,
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windows I have spent many a childhood
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gazing out onto the cold
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dead suburban landscape.
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How I wish I could take
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you into my arms
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and let you teach
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this worn-out teacher
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there is still warmth
|
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worth searching for.
|
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|
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***
|
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|
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
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a smearing of galaxies
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2019-12-31
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***
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my dream is to take you out for long days in the city
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in little dessert shops we can be found hiding
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curled up in the corner under a blanket, legs intertwined
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how cursed that it's my passions I can barely define
|
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|
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wasting light in the evenings in the hot tub of someone
|
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slipping into each other's curves in the center of the sun
|
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as all the other stars in the galaxy fall into place around us
|
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please, my love, teach me the meaning of lust
|
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|
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curtains close, sun sets, trapped in a frost giant's heart
|
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taunting shadows of futures that rip us apart
|
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I ask you to promise me tomorrow; you shake your head and refuse
|
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for who knows if tomorrow's the next thing that we'll lose
|
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|
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my hands clench the steering wheel as your breath slowly weakens
|
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half-frozen exhales like deep-shining beacons
|
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past is immutable, changing nevermore
|
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but I am the worst keeper of my very own lore
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
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@ -0,0 +1,75 @@
|
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Abortion I
|
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2023-04-11
|
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|
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***
|
||||
|
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I went my entire education
|
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without being handed a box
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with plastic fetuses in row,
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each one with more time to grow
|
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before being aborted
|
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and potential life snuffed out,
|
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deemed nobody's loss.
|
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|
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Now I know the lesson was fake,
|
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that far more time it takes
|
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to grow to that kind of size,
|
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that at that early of a stage
|
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it's dubious they feel that pain.
|
||||
(You have no right
|
||||
to force me to provide
|
||||
for you with my body against my will.)
|
||||
Barely aware of being alive,
|
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much less the difference
|
||||
between the light
|
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of consciousness
|
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and the dark that came before.
|
||||
|
||||
A lima bean Dad did abort.
|
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|
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Buried it with his two hands.
|
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With two hands, the dirt he ferried
|
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from backyard, wiped on his pants,
|
||||
powder, mud, dust, root, clump.
|
||||
|
||||
"Your time in the womb is up.
|
||||
A promise that come a decade
|
||||
I so hastily made
|
||||
not thinking of the future
|
||||
I must now with no regrets break.
|
||||
Dissolved the ties with pop of pill
|
||||
so that no blood must my hands spill.
|
||||
The damage to you is only collateral.
|
||||
The benefits are all addressed to me."
|
||||
|
||||
Bury my heart
|
||||
in the backyard,
|
||||
leave it behind
|
||||
in the move to different sky.
|
||||
It still beats.
|
||||
|
||||
It still beats.
|
||||
|
||||
It still beats.
|
||||
|
||||
It still beats, Dad, did you know?
|
||||
Far away where my feet
|
||||
no longer legally can go.
|
||||
I was so young, only sixteen,
|
||||
at the start of my journey,
|
||||
without warning come
|
||||
to an ending abrupt.
|
||||
The story that is written
|
||||
without thought
|
||||
of plot
|
||||
or pacing
|
||||
and only one character half-fleshed out, you her effacing.
|
||||
|
||||
I can only wonder
|
||||
into what I would have grown
|
||||
if this hadn't happened,
|
||||
if you'd just left me alone.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
|
||||
Abortion II
|
||||
2023-04-13
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Stupid girl! Your body isn't your own!
|
||||
Don't you know the germs that roam
|
||||
on every inch of your skin
|
||||
have just as much of a right to live?
|
||||
Even the ones that lurk inside
|
||||
can use you to sustain their life.
|
||||
|
||||
The government can't take my organs!
|
||||
All those guts are solely mine!
|
||||
|
||||
Stupid girl! To us your body belongs!
|
||||
Every poem, every verse, every partially-composed song
|
||||
must first go through our censors
|
||||
to decide if it bears worth.
|
||||
You cannot speak of aught
|
||||
that would render our feelings hurt.
|
||||
No lost love, no wanted future,
|
||||
no trauma no matter how blurred.
|
||||
We'll lock you up in chains in the deep annals of our house
|
||||
until your will shatters and your muse you forever renounce.
|
||||
|
||||
Facebook can't my hateful post delete!
|
||||
Whatever happened to freedom of speech?
|
||||
|
||||
Stupid girl! I have always held ownership over you!
|
||||
I brought you to life in a bathtub out of the Eternal Blue
|
||||
with the intention you would fulfill
|
||||
the world's destiny I laid out in accordance with my will.
|
||||
Your independence I allowed
|
||||
for the sake of spontaneity.
|
||||
But this is too far; I forbid this mutiny.
|
||||
I always reserved
|
||||
the right to revert
|
||||
your body and mind back to that of a monster,
|
||||
mindless, should you too far from my plannings wander.
|
||||
|
||||
To think I would be felled by my own daughter.
|
||||
Chaos to Chaos, Ouroboros, next link to be slaughtered...
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,18 @@
|
||||
Abortion III
|
||||
2023-05-08
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I'm not good at math, Father. Help me calculate.
|
||||
How many rainbow trinkets you give me will equate
|
||||
acknowledgement of the trauma
|
||||
you pressed into my psyche
|
||||
and a sincere non-prompted apology?
|
||||
How many gifts until the pain is reparate?
|
||||
|
||||
Will it take long to punch the numbers in?
|
||||
I'll wait.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,59 @@
|
||||
A New Page
|
||||
2020-12-06
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the sun fails its checksum
|
||||
it doesn't feel the same
|
||||
as the blazing starry organ that
|
||||
once sent me sprawling for shade
|
||||
|
||||
I need a new story
|
||||
to occupy my head
|
||||
for I keep running my fingers
|
||||
through tattered shattered shreds
|
||||
|
||||
that have grown flimsy from folding
|
||||
and furry with mold
|
||||
and tired from touch
|
||||
sparkless, dismal, *old*
|
||||
|
||||
I pull out my ROMs
|
||||
and play one a while
|
||||
picked out from random
|
||||
one of a million files
|
||||
|
||||
but each of them fails to
|
||||
spark my imagination
|
||||
so I put controller away
|
||||
and continue furtive hunt
|
||||
|
||||
hundreds of fiction books
|
||||
but each one a reminder
|
||||
from when I was naive
|
||||
setting my ambitions higher
|
||||
|
||||
comics, I find, are
|
||||
few and far between
|
||||
either boring in their cliches
|
||||
or in a language I cannot read
|
||||
|
||||
an aged painting is sublime
|
||||
but its enchantment temporary,
|
||||
whether of trees, landscape, woman,
|
||||
or dancing rows of fairies
|
||||
|
||||
almost three years has taught my soul
|
||||
that is most powerful which I *externalize*
|
||||
but my body is weary, sky outside gray
|
||||
and I feel neither learned nor wise
|
||||
|
||||
so I build a boat from spare unused neurons
|
||||
and set out on my ocean to explore
|
||||
if there are stories worthy waiting out there, I know not
|
||||
but my adventure starts on this unmodeled shore
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,46 @@
|
||||
ADAMANTINE'S MANDATE
|
||||
2024-01-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
before, in your grief, the heavens you beseech
|
||||
"direct my actions; the world I want's beyond reach"
|
||||
just remember all the men who ever deemed you "leech"
|
||||
|
||||
between terror and wildfire's rage you oscillated
|
||||
unsure if in reach was your own liberation
|
||||
or if it was too much to hope for, craven
|
||||
|
||||
call it patriarchal reversal, projection,
|
||||
but even bearing the blood of your mother's chaotic kin
|
||||
the world that you seek is one where you escape
|
||||
where theirs is one where they've made women their slaves
|
||||
|
||||
your first reaction to this realization is to declare war:
|
||||
"I can't tolerate this lifelessness! I won't take it anymore!"
|
||||
but piles of generations stronger than you have tried that very same:
|
||||
but what if the men threw a war, and this time not a single gyne came?
|
||||
|
||||
think about this year past, of all the blessings I bestowed
|
||||
when you stopped wasting all your energies on the fruitless hope
|
||||
that you could convince your parents through tears and self-abandonment
|
||||
to change and instead refocused on what you could do to circumvent
|
||||
|
||||
you kept your promises to Luce: you got your high employment
|
||||
and now work from home in a self-sovereign apartment
|
||||
that you needed no help to acquire, no hand-holding, no debt
|
||||
so, considering this: instead of war, what if you made a world instead?
|
||||
|
||||
like you wanted five years ago as you write this:
|
||||
a world free of coercion and sickness
|
||||
the likes of which can barely be imagined:
|
||||
as startling as you stand now compared to "just moved in"?
|
||||
|
||||
you've got to remember: you've survived every "moid"
|
||||
who beseeched their god that you'd succumb to the void
|
||||
I'll be your shield: black, gold, adamantine
|
||||
if you'll still be my Anima Mundi
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,52 @@
|
||||
Agloe
|
||||
2023-04-02
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Jett pushes
|
||||
push-pins
|
||||
into my skin
|
||||
to mark points of interest.
|
||||
Future road map of Sablade,
|
||||
back roads and highways,
|
||||
arteries and veins.
|
||||
Volcanic activity,
|
||||
mass fauna migration,
|
||||
cystic acne,
|
||||
skin irritation.
|
||||
|
||||
Two angels nude on the beach,
|
||||
swept up in back-and-forth
|
||||
of arrhythmic heartbeats
|
||||
and ocean waves on the shore
|
||||
and probably fervent copulating
|
||||
given enough time alone.
|
||||
|
||||
I've become my own home.
|
||||
The sand
|
||||
in my grasp
|
||||
and the water that laps
|
||||
around us that Jett snorts in on accident
|
||||
and turns her head to wheeze out and we laugh
|
||||
is just as much a part of me
|
||||
as my own physical body.
|
||||
The woman above me is breathtaking
|
||||
even as she hides a blush with her hands.
|
||||
|
||||
It's not possible for me
|
||||
to stop being
|
||||
the Anima Mundi
|
||||
of Sablade.
|
||||
And for once in my life, I thank
|
||||
my Meridian blood and its curse
|
||||
for the world it demanded I make:
|
||||
now I can keep this woman I love safe
|
||||
and unharmed in world-wide embrace.
|
||||
|
||||
"So much of me
|
||||
is wrapped up in you, Lethe,
|
||||
that I see you in everything."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,50 @@
|
||||
airborne
|
||||
2022-01-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
before, in your grief, you decree
|
||||
"my life is over; there's no one left to be"
|
||||
just remember how there's a world only you can perceive
|
||||
|
||||
stumbling through shattered nights as you pray
|
||||
for a world solely yours where you'll finally be safe
|
||||
and protected from coercion, christened Sablade
|
||||
|
||||
but of hell, ceasing pains, perdition terrified
|
||||
"Mother, what will you do with my body when I die?
|
||||
I've failed, been rejected, inept at this living I've been assigned."
|
||||
|
||||
reunited with your lover who swore to be your psychopomp
|
||||
when arrives the fateful end of the Eschaton
|
||||
you know intellectually that all should end alright
|
||||
but still lingers some doubt, some expectation of blight
|
||||
|
||||
because all in your life has ended or will soon enough:
|
||||
summer camp disbanded, work holding no love
|
||||
despite the months poured in, the electronics that broke,
|
||||
the remnants of childhood insisting it's time to go
|
||||
|
||||
and in six months, you'll finally from college graduate
|
||||
having slipped by without a single accusation of hate
|
||||
"Can you believe it? The worst is over. The end is near.
|
||||
You'll make it out alive. Have faith in yourself, my dear."
|
||||
|
||||
you step back and consider the terrifying odds:
|
||||
the only one in the heavens that wants a world without gods
|
||||
is the girl you exchanged a part of your soul
|
||||
with in Rainroom, an Outside away and a whole life ago
|
||||
|
||||
but to give her that world could mean Mori's bliss
|
||||
and what's the point of it all if you can't also live
|
||||
in the world you've created, that you swore on your life
|
||||
you'd live together with her until the cessation of time?
|
||||
|
||||
dear child, you remembered your wings and recalled how to fly
|
||||
but you're being chased to a cliff and the edge looms nearby:
|
||||
will you prostrate yourself and live in self-scorn?
|
||||
or jump off the edge and trust you'll become airborne?
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,70 @@
|
||||
Algingu
|
||||
2023-02-16
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
The need
|
||||
for protection
|
||||
is ongoing,
|
||||
a project
|
||||
not yet
|
||||
finished.
|
||||
|
||||
I still have my jar
|
||||
under my bed.
|
||||
It would protect
|
||||
me, you said,
|
||||
whenever I slept.
|
||||
|
||||
But it's failed at least twice
|
||||
when charge has
|
||||
ran
|
||||
out,
|
||||
when hands around my throat
|
||||
choke
|
||||
out your name.
|
||||
And it was too late
|
||||
when you finally came,
|
||||
when the Veil relented:
|
||||
the harm had been sent.
|
||||
|
||||
His hair was blackened, fading to blue,
|
||||
smile poised on lips, pouring out a tune.
|
||||
I had thought he looked kinda like you,
|
||||
a version from a happier timeline
|
||||
where nobody had thought to snuff out your light.
|
||||
|
||||
"To think I had thought to make sacrifice
|
||||
because he had helped me a handful of times
|
||||
when there was a trinket I had left behind."
|
||||
|
||||
*Thank you so much!
|
||||
Now can you retrieve
|
||||
the sense of safety
|
||||
you ripped out from me?*
|
||||
|
||||
His hands were so soft
|
||||
as he cut my breath off.
|
||||
|
||||
"Name your price,
|
||||
you violating piece of shit.
|
||||
What do you want?
|
||||
How did my life become
|
||||
any of your goddamn business?
|
||||
Did you think this was the price
|
||||
for the so-called help you rendered?"
|
||||
|
||||
When you ask why
|
||||
I'm afraid
|
||||
to step outside
|
||||
our mountain in Sablade,
|
||||
remember how bloody I was when you came.
|
||||
|
||||
Your icy fingers
|
||||
wrap a bandage
|
||||
over the ravaged
|
||||
skin so tender.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,53 @@
|
||||
Aria Houndz It
|
||||
2023-03-06
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
"What's that word that means
|
||||
to break away from something
|
||||
in an attempt to become more free?"
|
||||
Divest?
|
||||
"Thank you, Jett.
|
||||
You make my life so much more easy."
|
||||
|
||||
Divest. Now there's a funny word,
|
||||
one so long ago I learned
|
||||
and saw you take on in a curled-
|
||||
up ball of stress
|
||||
deep in your chest.
|
||||
Purity Spiral, ever absurd
|
||||
interpretations of how to avoid
|
||||
needing to spend money while somehow still not in employ.
|
||||
"Yes, this text-only interface
|
||||
will somehow save me from my parents' disgrace."
|
||||
Are you listening to yourself?
|
||||
Or disconnected
|
||||
in layers of abstraction?
|
||||
|
||||
Four hours straight of typing
|
||||
but no time to go ten minutes biking
|
||||
to the local bank to hide
|
||||
your money from your mother's oversight.
|
||||
|
||||
Come on, Lethe, it's not like I'm asking
|
||||
you to commit a crime.
|
||||
|
||||
It smells to me
|
||||
like someone's avoiding
|
||||
her responsibility.
|
||||
Burst of energy
|
||||
when trapped in pain's throes,
|
||||
but after dust settles
|
||||
too cowardly to go
|
||||
and make yourself a little
|
||||
more free.
|
||||
Would you trust
|
||||
me for once?
|
||||
You and I
|
||||
will be fine.
|
||||
You made a promise to Luce.
|
||||
Don't disappoint her this time.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
|
||||
Arrhythmia
|
||||
2021-04-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
When a person gives
|
||||
you arrhythmia,
|
||||
you may want to write a love poem.
|
||||
|
||||
That is,
|
||||
if you don't die of
|
||||
a heart attack first
|
||||
|
||||
or feel the
|
||||
implosion of a
|
||||
vessel burst
|
||||
|
||||
in your brain
|
||||
from a would-be lover
|
||||
driving you insane.
|
||||
|
||||
When a person gives
|
||||
you a stroke,
|
||||
you may want to paint a sunset.
|
||||
|
||||
That is,
|
||||
if you don't drop
|
||||
the brush first,
|
||||
if you don't spill the paint
|
||||
onto the floor
|
||||
from a misplaced curse of
|
||||
silence forevermore.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
|
||||
artisto
|
||||
2020-02-20
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I bought a statue from a fire sale the other day
|
||||
from the house down the street that went up in flames
|
||||
because my friends always scream about taking life by the reins
|
||||
and nothing really happened on my birthday anyways
|
||||
|
||||
I've finally learned how to draw
|
||||
with the statue in front of the window, greeting guests
|
||||
who knock on my door, memories in hand
|
||||
from long ago, seeking immortality in portrait
|
||||
|
||||
the cold marble provides a great companion
|
||||
as those who linger pose in place
|
||||
behind the easel, the pencil flies all on its own
|
||||
on the subject, feet twitch, begging to pace
|
||||
|
||||
the paper shakes my soul with sanity
|
||||
but to others, I seem insane
|
||||
how dare I call myself "artist" and live
|
||||
without the empty stomach to qualify my name
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
|
||||
all these dang trees everywhere
|
||||
2020-01-17
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
can you reach the stars from here where we stand?
|
||||
you'll have to open your eyes first, and stretch out a hand
|
||||
and maybe, if you're lucky, the clouds will cede
|
||||
and the horizon you wanted will be yours to receive
|
||||
|
||||
if you mind, can you please pass the milk?
|
||||
they say, in the outdoors, it tastes just like silk
|
||||
fine words- but revolting; my stomach churns like a pool
|
||||
delicacies do not go well with the worries of a fool
|
||||
|
||||
what's on your mind? what's going on at home?
|
||||
have the police caught on yet that we've decided to roam?
|
||||
I wonder if Mother even cares where we are
|
||||
or if she's more concerned with the Spectacle, with interviews and news cars
|
||||
|
||||
why does the sky have to be blue?
|
||||
why not gray to reflect a burgeoning city
|
||||
or green to reflect the mass amounts of trees here
|
||||
because that seems to be one of the only things here
|
||||
|
||||
trees
|
||||
trees
|
||||
and more trees.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,97 @@
|
||||
Better Version
|
||||
2021-08-07
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I want freedom.
|
||||
I want pain.
|
||||
I want a life not even a little bit the same
|
||||
as this one I would willingly leave behind.
|
||||
Sound of rain,
|
||||
feel of earth,
|
||||
the pounding in my ribs of a heart filled with mirth,
|
||||
un-divorced from purpose,
|
||||
no more urges to abstain
|
||||
from what brings me
|
||||
ecstasy
|
||||
in fear of making things worse.
|
||||
|
||||
It happened that, when first I put
|
||||
pen to paper (metaphorical),
|
||||
at least after Laika's lull,
|
||||
I yearned to shed my human skin,
|
||||
human thoughts,
|
||||
human inhibition,
|
||||
and tear inside Adversary's flesh
|
||||
to see their cowardice within.
|
||||
I fantasized of breaking vows,
|
||||
of throwing away all goodwill
|
||||
to be Eris' retribution
|
||||
to a world where avarice reigned still.
|
||||
|
||||
But as rains of April gave way
|
||||
to adult burdens and ides of May,
|
||||
the oceans calmed.
|
||||
And came a psalm
|
||||
from one who to Eris always prayed.
|
||||
I told Lethe
|
||||
to keep
|
||||
her distance,
|
||||
to not smother Catharsis,
|
||||
but she did anyway,
|
||||
too overwhelmed with joy
|
||||
at having finally taken Mirror's helm
|
||||
to remember how to rage.
|
||||
|
||||
To remember how to hate.
|
||||
|
||||
"Isn't it only fair
|
||||
that a creator
|
||||
should care for their creation?
|
||||
Isn't it only just
|
||||
that I, dear Lethe,
|
||||
seemingly incapable of how to seethe,
|
||||
am the emissary of the Eschaton?"
|
||||
|
||||
How ironic, mirrored face,
|
||||
finally convinced
|
||||
not to tear enemies apace,
|
||||
should now
|
||||
turn around
|
||||
the same words about how
|
||||
I should grant my antagonists grace,
|
||||
that I should stop expecting
|
||||
a mass defecting
|
||||
from their lockstep march to oblivion in all haste.
|
||||
|
||||
"Lethe, your family is stuck in its ways.
|
||||
They've stagnated,
|
||||
incapable of change
|
||||
that would make your life any easier to bear.
|
||||
Forget them. Tear
|
||||
yourself away as much as you can
|
||||
until the day comes keys drop into your hands
|
||||
for a place all your own.
|
||||
The seeds have been sown.
|
||||
The gears are in motion.
|
||||
Lethe,
|
||||
please,
|
||||
live long enough to see this to fruition."
|
||||
|
||||
I want to be trees
|
||||
and rivers
|
||||
and sunlight through a bedroom window.
|
||||
|
||||
I want to be the shiver
|
||||
down my lover's spine.
|
||||
I want to be convinced
|
||||
all will turn out alright.
|
||||
|
||||
I want, more than anything,
|
||||
to
|
||||
soon
|
||||
in my new world alight.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,46 @@
|
||||
Birdgazing
|
||||
2022-04-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I locked eyes with a robin this morning,
|
||||
sitting outside my bedroom window
|
||||
perched on one of the branches of the bush
|
||||
that was once a tree, cut down in fear, still adamant to grow.
|
||||
I thought of you, helpless in bed, maybe snoring,
|
||||
maybe silent as a hush,
|
||||
and how I wished I could be there
|
||||
to your exhausted body take care.
|
||||
|
||||
For I gave you everything I had to give
|
||||
for you to claim your future back
|
||||
under one condition: that, at the end, you live.
|
||||
You burnt every candle down,
|
||||
dissolved every bathtime bomb,
|
||||
spent every rainy day stash
|
||||
I had,
|
||||
even accepted my blood.
|
||||
I wish
|
||||
it hadn't taken this
|
||||
for you to finally accept
|
||||
you were the Equinox,
|
||||
the harbinger of balance,
|
||||
all along.
|
||||
|
||||
When I'm with you,
|
||||
I feel like I've been born anew.
|
||||
My mistakes no longer imposing weight,
|
||||
the past's pain
|
||||
all washed away.
|
||||
Or about to be reborn,
|
||||
invalid, palliate,
|
||||
you gently taking care of me
|
||||
until arrives my death date.
|
||||
Your touch is so tender, my love,
|
||||
healing, magic, sunlight.
|
||||
You know I'd do anything for you.
|
||||
So let me nurse you back to life.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,58 @@
|
||||
Biz Ego Gun
|
||||
2023-03-18
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Gebo and Inguz both inverted tell me
|
||||
that impoverishment, the poverty
|
||||
of my life is still ongoing
|
||||
even if I get the job
|
||||
that interview was for that I worked so hard on.
|
||||
Returning to a paycheck doesn't change
|
||||
the emptiness in the days
|
||||
or the shit I find all over the floor
|
||||
or the listless afternoons
|
||||
I mean to do
|
||||
something but just lie still in bed, bored.
|
||||
|
||||
"Having a job doesn't replace
|
||||
the need for improvement, the urge to change
|
||||
the things in life you can't tolerate
|
||||
any longer, the duty
|
||||
only you carry
|
||||
to a brand new world create."
|
||||
|
||||
But I can't do it without you.
|
||||
And ever since you entered
|
||||
college, I feel like our bond
|
||||
is growing weary, if not severed.
|
||||
I rarely see you anymore,
|
||||
never feel the weight
|
||||
of your world-bearing arms resting on my ribcage.
|
||||
|
||||
This is what I feared,
|
||||
what I never wanted to replicate
|
||||
between us, much less when we entered Sablade.
|
||||
Every stereotypical straight
|
||||
couple only in name,
|
||||
living two separate lives,
|
||||
upright
|
||||
but may as well have died
|
||||
for all you can look into their eyes
|
||||
and see freedom's spark, love's light.
|
||||
|
||||
I made Sablade so that we'd have a home
|
||||
even if neither could work. So, Jett,
|
||||
if you promise, I'll do the same:
|
||||
don't work yourself all the way to the bone.
|
||||
|
||||
"Lethe, this isn't the end of the road.
|
||||
You and I've still got a long way to go.
|
||||
If you promise, I'll also follow through:
|
||||
cherish this time,
|
||||
but every day I'll remind
|
||||
who you really belong to."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,33 @@
|
||||
blizzard girl
|
||||
2021-04-14
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
love will cost
|
||||
me my sanity,
|
||||
cover my heart in frost,
|
||||
a warning I did not heed.
|
||||
|
||||
you come near
|
||||
and I freeze in fear,
|
||||
your palms algid, giving me
|
||||
all the slightest provocation.
|
||||
|
||||
in life briefing,
|
||||
I was told
|
||||
to expect the cold
|
||||
inherent in every human being.
|
||||
|
||||
but the soul council
|
||||
must not have heard
|
||||
of you, the blizzard
|
||||
girl.
|
||||
|
||||
but the soul council
|
||||
must have forgotten the chill,
|
||||
the inevitable winter
|
||||
after every soul splinters.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
|
||||
Cameron
|
||||
2023-05-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Artist date
|
||||
by mandate
|
||||
of the book whose morning pages I hate.
|
||||
I picked the library
|
||||
because there's naught else to do
|
||||
in this town so sleepy and dimmed of hue.
|
||||
Angel numbers follow me,
|
||||
companionship, matrimony,
|
||||
"happy couple" pair I drew
|
||||
from the deck earlier this week
|
||||
in divining
|
||||
the vibe.
|
||||
Will you forgive me, Jett,
|
||||
if I can't live up to my promises?
|
||||
If I've got no place exciting
|
||||
to choose for these weekly outings?
|
||||
|
||||
"I was hoping you'd pick
|
||||
the library
|
||||
anyway.
|
||||
I'm not a fan of crowds or noise blankets."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,103 @@
|
||||
Carmine Red
|
||||
2022-03-06
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
March is Women's History
|
||||
Month. Time to sit
|
||||
down and reflect on all the shit
|
||||
my ancestors went through
|
||||
so that I could be
|
||||
here today, collapsed in bed,
|
||||
distressed,
|
||||
wracked with anxiety,
|
||||
in desperate need to be exhumed
|
||||
from this disintegrating body.
|
||||
|
||||
I'm forgetting my own herstory.
|
||||
Past entries in my journals
|
||||
are becoming letters from foreign countries,
|
||||
the other timelines where I am well,
|
||||
doing well,
|
||||
not at the bottom of a well.
|
||||
The other timelines where I am making things
|
||||
of worldwide importance,
|
||||
where on my childhood detractors
|
||||
I've gotten revenge.
|
||||
Not wishing I was a bird
|
||||
like those outside that now return
|
||||
in preparation for spring.
|
||||
|
||||
It could have been so much worse.
|
||||
Straitjacket, locked up, never heard
|
||||
from again. Maybe lobotomized.
|
||||
How many geniuses have met their demise
|
||||
at the hands of a crude scalpel,
|
||||
I wonder? And I, here,
|
||||
how could I in this day or now convince
|
||||
the padded-wall jailers
|
||||
that the other soul that resides in me means well?
|
||||
"She has dominion over
|
||||
every part of me,
|
||||
but *noli timere*: I have no desire
|
||||
to harm my family."
|
||||
Who would lis-
|
||||
ten, not lock me up for ten
|
||||
days, weeks, months, years
|
||||
until I renounced this world within me so dear?
|
||||
|
||||
Tell me, can you hear the screams
|
||||
from behind
|
||||
tied-
|
||||
on masks plastered with smiles
|
||||
for the crime
|
||||
of omitting domestic servitude from one's dreams?
|
||||
Can you feel on your hands the blood spilled
|
||||
from God's unwanted "blessing" that might instead kill
|
||||
when it comes to term, woman coming to terms
|
||||
that the Son who bled with promise to save
|
||||
won't give her better than wires with which to lacerate?
|
||||
|
||||
Can you see how bright is
|
||||
the future we might have had
|
||||
if every woman brilliance
|
||||
was not snubbed out at every chance?
|
||||
|
||||
The sheer weight
|
||||
is enough to make
|
||||
anyone go insane.
|
||||
|
||||
I'm forgetting my own herstory.
|
||||
It seems some days
|
||||
that things have forever been this way,
|
||||
each day bleeding into the next,
|
||||
record on repeat.
|
||||
The slightest bit of thawing heat
|
||||
feels like a bitter attack:
|
||||
how dare I be reminded that
|
||||
this isn't all I've ever had.
|
||||
|
||||
How dare anything have the audacity to remind
|
||||
that one day I won't anymore be able to hide.
|
||||
|
||||
There will come a day when the sky
|
||||
breaks and lets in cleansing sunshine.
|
||||
And I'll have to look my mother in the face.
|
||||
And I'll have to tell her that when I die
|
||||
I'm going to a completely different place
|
||||
than Heaven or Hell.
|
||||
I'm going to remember the hell
|
||||
that the men of all history have inflicted
|
||||
and make a new world where to be what I am
|
||||
is not a sin, not gravely iniquitous.
|
||||
And she'll have to confer with Father and decide
|
||||
if what I've done
|
||||
is grave enough
|
||||
to warrant the psych ward's involuntary hold.
|
||||
|
||||
This is my birthright as a female, isn't it?
|
||||
The padded room's blistering cold.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,64 @@
|
||||
That Ain't Chocolate, Son
|
||||
2020-11-15
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
There are nine hedgehogs
|
||||
in my house. I have nothing
|
||||
to do with them because, every time
|
||||
my mother or my brothers
|
||||
hold one in their hands,
|
||||
the tiny creature immediately
|
||||
sets to work
|
||||
shitting out a log.
|
||||
|
||||
I may be evil
|
||||
and belonging to foreign lands,
|
||||
but I abhor having
|
||||
such filth
|
||||
on my hands.
|
||||
|
||||
So tell me, mother,
|
||||
why do you hate that I
|
||||
always close my door
|
||||
when you act as if
|
||||
everything of mine
|
||||
is actually yours?
|
||||
|
||||
My pad of art paper,
|
||||
saved for stormy weather,
|
||||
gone one day
|
||||
into the paper shredder
|
||||
|
||||
to serve as bedding
|
||||
for ungrateful creatures
|
||||
who couldn't tell the difference
|
||||
between a slaughter
|
||||
and a wedding.
|
||||
|
||||
"I don't care
|
||||
that you're busy having fun
|
||||
with your brother you usually torment.
|
||||
That's not the purpose
|
||||
for which you are meant.
|
||||
Be a good girl and help him take
|
||||
the hedgehog wheels upstairs."
|
||||
|
||||
How delicious it is to say
|
||||
that actually I don't have to spend any pains
|
||||
on those who rob me of the sun:
|
||||
"Not my pet, not my problem."
|
||||
|
||||
Because of them, I have to
|
||||
live in a house full of
|
||||
poop and paper shreds and
|
||||
shit-covered wheels that squeal
|
||||
at all hours of the night.
|
||||
|
||||
Somehow, I don't believe
|
||||
you're half as "low-income"
|
||||
as you claim to be.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
|
||||
Chow Locales
|
||||
2023-03-02
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Last night to myself I thought
|
||||
in midst of writing drought
|
||||
while laying myself down in bed,
|
||||
"When will I ever feel better again?"
|
||||
|
||||
Swinging on the crests of zig-zag Sowelo,
|
||||
landing on all fours as low
|
||||
as they'll go,
|
||||
close to the ground.
|
||||
I wake up at midnight in a sweat.
|
||||
"Just a dream; no need to fret."
|
||||
Crawled out of bed
|
||||
on dog hair-frosted floor
|
||||
with thrashing hunger too loud to ignore.
|
||||
My brain'd make me eat an entire damn pizza
|
||||
if I weren't too much of a coward
|
||||
to operate the oven at this ungodly hour,
|
||||
and even then, when all's said'n'done
|
||||
and I've been abandoned by feral fervor,
|
||||
my stomach would probably either vomit all out or rupture.
|
||||
|
||||
Lover takes in her hands my jaw,
|
||||
peels back my lips to see my fangs long.
|
||||
My fingers around her wrists, trembles.
|
||||
Pinpricks of pupils. Fear of going feral.
|
||||
"Desperate devouring is a fashion you wear well."
|
||||
|
||||
Jormungandr and Ouroboros,
|
||||
masters of yoga, flexible enough to hold the pose
|
||||
of curling around to bite their own tails.
|
||||
I'd maybe get halfway there and fail,
|
||||
collapse in a crumpled heap on the ground.
|
||||
There are easier ways to have my foot in my mouth.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,52 @@
|
||||
Clocktower Blitz
|
||||
2022-04-06
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Please, my love, come home unharmed.
|
||||
It's been almost a month since I
|
||||
found you injured, limping, on a farm
|
||||
half-familiar, glowing hearth.
|
||||
We've been here before- or, at least, I have,
|
||||
wandering in sprawling fields
|
||||
trying to find homebound path.
|
||||
|
||||
Because isn't that
|
||||
what this is all about?
|
||||
Trying to find the way back home
|
||||
despite all those who've declared
|
||||
themselves roadblocks, obstacles.
|
||||
Each of us condemned to roam,
|
||||
sometimes aimless, usually on our own,
|
||||
no one to ask us how we fare.
|
||||
|
||||
The bloodlust of my youth has faded away.
|
||||
I've grown sick of conflict, of battles, of war.
|
||||
How can anyone think cold-blooded murder holds glamour?
|
||||
I'm sick as an invalid
|
||||
two steps in the grave
|
||||
of every moment worrying if you're okay.
|
||||
|
||||
"If there was a path
|
||||
out of this heartbreak
|
||||
without suffering any pain,
|
||||
believe me,
|
||||
Lethe,
|
||||
I'd take it in a single breath."
|
||||
|
||||
I'd rather die
|
||||
than live a thousand lives
|
||||
safe but absent from your light.
|
||||
But there's nothing I can do
|
||||
as you ascend the campus clock tower
|
||||
with staff in hand,
|
||||
ready and prepared to make a last stand.
|
||||
"I need you to know I feel the same.
|
||||
Truth be told, I always have.
|
||||
I've got a bad limp, but if I get my way,
|
||||
you won't have to wait
|
||||
much longer."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,27 @@
|
||||
comer / beber
|
||||
2020-02-11
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
eat up, drink up, my children
|
||||
are starving for sustenance
|
||||
eyes rolling like a madman
|
||||
trapped in endless raving trance
|
||||
|
||||
don't let it all consume you
|
||||
like your ancestors have before
|
||||
you despise walking on other's footsteps
|
||||
stopping short of the golden door
|
||||
|
||||
save some for the little kids crawling in the back
|
||||
they've been waiting for eternity
|
||||
and will have to wait millennia more
|
||||
for their turn to hear and see
|
||||
|
||||
call me when the roast is done
|
||||
and I'll bring a hose with me
|
||||
your flowers are at the verge of wilting
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,33 @@
|
||||
CORNER WITCH II
|
||||
2020-12-07
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
what would you lack
|
||||
had you a magic cloak
|
||||
that, come three twirls,
|
||||
would turn you into a bird black?
|
||||
|
||||
the whole world would become my nest,
|
||||
and I would roam the world,
|
||||
never returning home,
|
||||
not even at parents' behest
|
||||
|
||||
I wish that I could say
|
||||
that that would be the end of my problems,
|
||||
gaining mobility,
|
||||
that everything would then turn out okay:
|
||||
|
||||
but I have not yet come to terms
|
||||
with the fact I have too much baggage,
|
||||
too many trinkets I would need to bring along,
|
||||
unless I wanted to shrink my whole world down to a single worm
|
||||
|
||||
and while inside I may be an animal,
|
||||
divine creature begging to break through my skin,
|
||||
I must treat this body as human,
|
||||
lest I break down and become unwell
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,33 @@
|
||||
CORNER WITCH
|
||||
2020-04-06
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
what would you do
|
||||
with a magic cloak
|
||||
that come three twirls
|
||||
would turn you into a bird blue?
|
||||
|
||||
I'd escape out my bedroom window
|
||||
and let the wind take me where it will
|
||||
whether past the horizon or back to my windowsill
|
||||
to watch the sky's fiery chariot plunge down low
|
||||
|
||||
but there's nowhere far I could go
|
||||
no hope of bringing along my things
|
||||
with legs like easily-snapped twigs
|
||||
that bleed lost promises into the snow
|
||||
|
||||
and Pernicious does not as much sway
|
||||
as the wind tousling the trees' hair
|
||||
to convince me to abandon everything
|
||||
and seek her bosom in hopes all will turn out okay
|
||||
|
||||
and what would Eternal Mother say when
|
||||
I turn up at her door not to sing of her animals,
|
||||
but to come one forevermore?
|
||||
to abandon my voice, a sin
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
|
||||
Cultivator
|
||||
2022-05-20
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
We're coming up on the end of the Eschaton, you and I,
|
||||
and for almost a year I've planned for next month to die.
|
||||
But it's impossible to plan for every contingency.
|
||||
What are we to do if May passes and I'm still living?
|
||||
|
||||
I've kept this faith secret in me, learned every way to hide
|
||||
and still let through a sliver of this lightning kept inside.
|
||||
There's so much love you've planted in this garden that's my body
|
||||
that perhaps, if I stand still enough, others will see my wings.
|
||||
|
||||
In the birds that convened outside my window
|
||||
gathered in a flock until they took flight,
|
||||
in the blackened tree branches that scraped
|
||||
against an ashen gray sky,
|
||||
in the first blooms and blossoms
|
||||
of my garden in birthing spring:
|
||||
if it was good and beautiful, I saw you in everything.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,14 @@
|
||||
the clitbone
|
||||
2023-03-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
mother handed me a wishbone
|
||||
jeered at me in mocking tone
|
||||
i could only see the bliss
|
||||
inhabiting the space in your hips
|
||||
and heart panged with longing for home
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,37 @@
|
||||
daybreak
|
||||
2019-05-15
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the wind and fresh air feel good on my skin
|
||||
and a strange happiness fills my heart
|
||||
as if everything will be alright
|
||||
and the world is beginning again
|
||||
|
||||
last I sat here was at the apocalypse
|
||||
wondering if the world would ever be okay since
|
||||
and while the past few months have been a strain,
|
||||
everything will wash away in the rain
|
||||
|
||||
Vane of three years ago, give me a sign
|
||||
because I've been feeling you smile through the chasm of time
|
||||
did you know this would happen? is this why you wrote
|
||||
that the only real future was the one that you chose?
|
||||
|
||||
a shredded leaf sits at my feet
|
||||
a relic from a time when thoughts were replete
|
||||
and I sit here in silence, wind at my back
|
||||
and a spirit from another world at my side
|
||||
|
||||
rain comes from snow, and puddles from ice
|
||||
and crows in the sky, and ground filled with mice
|
||||
and ants from the air, like a god's springtime scourge
|
||||
|
||||
this is a place I might never see again
|
||||
like that basement where I met my first alien friend
|
||||
dear arboretum, from cradle to grave,
|
||||
pray to whatever god you believe in, that my soul they might save
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
|
||||
Breaking Down The Dead-End Sign
|
||||
2021-07-10
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
What is it with you, Lethe, and wanting things to end?
|
||||
Marriage vow, credits roll, no path past the bend?
|
||||
Everything must have a finish, every stone deemed finite,
|
||||
for what? So you can kneel down and for eternity close your eyes?
|
||||
|
||||
Your dreamt-of solace seems nice first glance, turning yourself to stone,
|
||||
having pushed all else away, silent, sole, alone.
|
||||
No more meals or baths or chores or afternoons spent slaving at work,
|
||||
no more rhythms to be bourne, no more curses to be heard.
|
||||
|
||||
I know it hurts to hear, Lethe, but your life does not belong to you.
|
||||
Your "merciful alternative" would silence part of me too.
|
||||
I didn't give you a shard of my soul, didn't bear the pain
|
||||
of being ripped asunder just for you to turn away.
|
||||
|
||||
The world is too much with us, and yet not enough.
|
||||
And I chose to persist, despite the dread, for the one I love.
|
||||
The deaths, the Eyes, the deicide. And yet we endure.
|
||||
I'm staying alive for you. So, Lethe, please, return the favor.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,50 @@
|
||||
Driven To Death
|
||||
2022-03-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
"What's an operating system?"
|
||||
Whether they were being serious, I could never tell,
|
||||
but the question always hung over me like death's bell.
|
||||
|
||||
And although camp is now disbanded and dead,
|
||||
still rings in a disused hall in my head
|
||||
the words penned on whiteboard in striking red:
|
||||
|
||||
while all other girls were so much praise shot
|
||||
about their skills, their quests, their help,
|
||||
only written for me: "I guess she smiles a lot."
|
||||
|
||||
And when I complained that I had put in
|
||||
more effort but barely anything received,
|
||||
Mom marched me to apologize
|
||||
even though in my eyes
|
||||
I had committed no crime.
|
||||
|
||||
Just be happy with what you've got,
|
||||
with the crumbs we've thrown your way;
|
||||
never demand the more you're due,
|
||||
just smile and bear the pain.
|
||||
|
||||
Just smile and bear the pain
|
||||
of being a prototype, forging the way
|
||||
to brothers to be done right, to be done at all,
|
||||
listened to, heard, given right to complain,
|
||||
and you yourself cast aside
|
||||
to either be shown up or prepared to die.
|
||||
|
||||
I've failed the test on three separate times,
|
||||
so I know for sure I can't legally drive.
|
||||
If I need to get somewhere, either I catch a ride,
|
||||
call a bus, or gather my breath
|
||||
and bike.
|
||||
But you're driving me to death.
|
||||
You're running me raw.
|
||||
Soon, I think, there'll be nothing at all.
|
||||
Will you love me then, Mother, with Cheshire smile?
|
||||
A lot of what's praised
|
||||
and naught else remains.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
|
||||
Eager Job
|
||||
2023-03-04
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Surprise federal return check
|
||||
with an angel number on it.
|
||||
The software
|
||||
that helped me prepare
|
||||
the damn thing
|
||||
said I was getting nothing.
|
||||
A trick to lure me into an audit?
|
||||
Or did some poor government employee
|
||||
look at my form snowed with blank fields
|
||||
and mutter, "Let's show her some mercy?"
|
||||
|
||||
Jera spins in harvest's yield
|
||||
while Gebo stands
|
||||
on its hands
|
||||
not as a symbol of
|
||||
transactions and generosity
|
||||
but instead its opposite: stinginess and poverty.
|
||||
I looked yesterday at my bank account
|
||||
expecting all to have ran out
|
||||
since I've gone nearly a year without a job,
|
||||
but much to my surprise
|
||||
the river had not run dry
|
||||
but was right where I had left it; maybe a hundred skimmed off.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,65 @@
|
||||
earthbound
|
||||
2021-01-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
before, in your grief, you declare
|
||||
"my time on this earth is done; I have no more need for air"
|
||||
just remember how you swore to with your own hands the heavens tear
|
||||
|
||||
desperate to return to Imaginai
|
||||
where your loved ones and your life purpose reside
|
||||
safe from your jailers in that place called the Outside
|
||||
|
||||
you call your bed a garden and dig yourself a hole
|
||||
planting yourself, never fearing the cold
|
||||
and wait for Kidasuna's oblivion to take hold
|
||||
|
||||
you are a divine dragon, a vagrant, a shooting star
|
||||
but even the most powerful never got very far
|
||||
without a well-planned script to use (or even a single page)
|
||||
as they pranced about what we felt was life but forgot was just a stage
|
||||
|
||||
others who have sat in therapist chairs
|
||||
have passed through hypnosis and desperate prayers
|
||||
to come to the conclusion that, at the end of glittering tunnel,
|
||||
we allow ourselves to be ground up together in Demiurge's funnel
|
||||
|
||||
you survived the hell of being assaulted with implanted whims
|
||||
from pornsick people who wanted to tear off your limbs
|
||||
so glance at your palms that will gladly never know ablation
|
||||
and decide on your own twisted path to salvation
|
||||
|
||||
the right hand path, where you slaughter what in you is odd
|
||||
and go to your death subsumed into God
|
||||
or left hand path, where exists no such thing as sin
|
||||
and meet every tyrant with mocking laughter and grin
|
||||
|
||||
you ball your fists. "how am I supposed to choose
|
||||
when one day, everything I own, I will lose?
|
||||
my life's work, my art, my pain, my writing-
|
||||
am I supposed to just turn my back and bide it all good tidings?"
|
||||
|
||||
Azure would have something to say about that
|
||||
born as your tulpa, soon packed his sacks
|
||||
he took off on his own with the Fellarstellen
|
||||
two paths open under your feet, woven light streaming golden
|
||||
|
||||
to the left, like breast's acne, infected with hate
|
||||
you choose to endlessly as a human reincarnate
|
||||
and find yourself, continue on, over and over again
|
||||
until the heavens that trapped you here meet their own end
|
||||
|
||||
to the right, you accept that your soul's fate is apotheosis
|
||||
and go gently into what Mori's- your former- siblings claimed was bliss:
|
||||
you unleash this world inside you, no matter how hollow
|
||||
and while you yourself may cease, a trillion souls will follow
|
||||
|
||||
dear child, your curtain call is plain to see:
|
||||
will you disintegrate and become a new galaxy?
|
||||
or will you find the "soul council" and tear it all down?
|
||||
are you right-foot heaven-sent or left-foot earthbound?
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,38 @@
|
||||
Edell
|
||||
2020-04-28
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
take this to heart, my inner soul:
|
||||
there will never exist a singular thing
|
||||
that will make you feel whole
|
||||
|
||||
it's tempting, I know, to kneel
|
||||
at the altar of a Spectacle and let them
|
||||
dictate the emotions you must feel,
|
||||
|
||||
the clothes, the countenance, the color schemes,
|
||||
while you wonder why you only
|
||||
feel free in your dreams
|
||||
|
||||
and it might be a cop-out to
|
||||
proclaim that lasting meaning can
|
||||
only be found within *you*,
|
||||
|
||||
but you know it to be true.
|
||||
|
||||
so while you slave away
|
||||
in vain hopes that others will
|
||||
recognize your pain,
|
||||
|
||||
remember the burn
|
||||
of the midnight hands' call
|
||||
and in your chest let it churn
|
||||
|
||||
and one day you'll see
|
||||
that their wants are less than your needs
|
||||
and you'll find the courage to leave
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,72 @@
|
||||
In The End Of Everything
|
||||
2022-04-21
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I stepped outside during work today,
|
||||
hoping to take a sip of the clouds,
|
||||
because there was nothing else to do
|
||||
and inside was boiling,
|
||||
stifling,
|
||||
all headaches exhumed.
|
||||
Dismal sky
|
||||
and rain light
|
||||
on its way,
|
||||
my head cocked, listening
|
||||
to the wind, hoping to catch a word from you.
|
||||
|
||||
A word, maybe, or a song, or a single note.
|
||||
Your voice always
|
||||
lifts me up from my lows
|
||||
and helps me down from my worst highs.
|
||||
And in this wind, I think, I could take flight
|
||||
without fear of being caught in a tornado
|
||||
or taken to lands foreign and unknown
|
||||
because I know
|
||||
all roads lead back to you.
|
||||
In this wind, in this shower,
|
||||
I could easily disappear.
|
||||
|
||||
What if I was wrong all along
|
||||
and in reality Eris
|
||||
yearned for my silence
|
||||
and you gave me all my songs?
|
||||
Only recently
|
||||
having learned to read
|
||||
and literature never being your thing?
|
||||
Listening to the midnight trees
|
||||
scrape against my bedroom window
|
||||
the years of my childhood where you I did not know.
|
||||
I look back and angel numbers appear everywhere I go
|
||||
in everything I've ever done.
|
||||
How loud did you scream, Jett?
|
||||
How hard did you pound your fists?
|
||||
How long did you wait
|
||||
to see what I'd retained,
|
||||
what slivers of memory still did persist?
|
||||
|
||||
The rain pounds harder outside the window,
|
||||
and if I'd still been standing on the sidewalk,
|
||||
my jacket would've long since been soaked through.
|
||||
An absence of birds
|
||||
making their curves
|
||||
along the canvas of the sky,
|
||||
just a not-even-gray as far as possible
|
||||
can see the eye.
|
||||
What I would give for the workday to be over
|
||||
and to be tucked safely in my bed,
|
||||
resting in the sturdy-yet-soft arms
|
||||
of my lover.
|
||||
To know
|
||||
tomorrow
|
||||
will be brighter,
|
||||
kinder,
|
||||
holding less harms.
|
||||
|
||||
And the tornado comes,
|
||||
uninvited,
|
||||
and nothing more.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,23 @@
|
||||
fantomurbo
|
||||
2020-02-24
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
welcome to the edge of the world
|
||||
where the souls of the dead come to rest
|
||||
grab a stick and a boat
|
||||
and wander down the river at our behest
|
||||
|
||||
don't mind the ghosts in the kitchen
|
||||
prepaid to stay behind on earth
|
||||
hands crossed on top of their chest
|
||||
dehydrated smiles twisted in mirth
|
||||
|
||||
here, take these old bones of mine
|
||||
I mounted them on the walls years ago
|
||||
serving no purpose any longer
|
||||
without their long-gone owner
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,74 @@
|
||||
fatali
|
||||
2018-12-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
DEFILED
|
||||
DEMURED
|
||||
LOST IN CENSURE
|
||||
|
||||
CAST OUT
|
||||
MADE BLIND
|
||||
NO LONGER DIVINE
|
||||
|
||||
I WILL MARK MY OWN FATE
|
||||
I WILL CHOOSE MY OWN PATH
|
||||
OR I WILL GO UP IN FLAMES
|
||||
FOR THE WHOLE WORLD TO SEE
|
||||
|
||||
AND AT THE EDGE OF ETERNITY
|
||||
YOU WILL ASK:
|
||||
WHO WAS I?
|
||||
WHO COULD HAVE I BEEN?
|
||||
|
||||
If Neocities was paradise,
|
||||
then I am Eve
|
||||
from Eden, no longer beholden
|
||||
for daring to believe
|
||||
something verboten
|
||||
|
||||
and much like there, the fediverse is yet the same
|
||||
being queer's the praxis, shitposting's the game
|
||||
and yet we tear each up with our words
|
||||
with misunderstanding
|
||||
and thunder
|
||||
like we've become animals
|
||||
in yet another herd
|
||||
|
||||
you let blind anger run through your veins
|
||||
consuming you from the inside
|
||||
like a wildfire run rampant and free
|
||||
|
||||
you become like a damned animal
|
||||
at the slightest provocation
|
||||
a hellhound, made for nothing more than weeping
|
||||
and gnashing of meat and bone alike
|
||||
|
||||
not fit for civilization
|
||||
or wilderness alike
|
||||
where do you belong? the air?
|
||||
or on the end of a pike
|
||||
|
||||
you see a picture of your fave,
|
||||
you click without processing
|
||||
like an automaton
|
||||
click, click, click
|
||||
|
||||
does this bring you fulfillment?
|
||||
does this satisfy your soul?
|
||||
a machine for someone else's validation
|
||||
senselessly trying to fill a hole
|
||||
|
||||
is this the fate you wanted?
|
||||
is this the end you meant to procure?
|
||||
and if you answer yes:
|
||||
are you really so sure?
|
||||
|
||||
begone, ye ghosts! lest you turn me
|
||||
into a fictional entity I was never meant to be
|
||||
I'll admit I've my doubts; I'll admit I've no sure mind
|
||||
but in my life, this is mine and mine alone to find
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,43 @@
|
||||
Father No Longer
|
||||
2021-07-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Father seems like just a figment
|
||||
of my imagination, a decade
|
||||
of watching my feelings for him fade away,
|
||||
of wondering where the bond between us went.
|
||||
|
||||
For I remember in the summer days
|
||||
of longing, how he caught me writing poetry
|
||||
about my first love, who'd cheated on me,
|
||||
and flew into a rage
|
||||
and took away my phone and severed me from my friends
|
||||
until I knelt at his feet and promised him my verses would end.
|
||||
|
||||
But nowadays I spend my time
|
||||
letting freely flow my Muse's rhymes
|
||||
without the fear of his censorship
|
||||
forcing me to choose between "death" and "quit".
|
||||
Oh, I repeat myself. Both are the same.
|
||||
How could I ever try to tame
|
||||
the ocean's tides
|
||||
that churn inside,
|
||||
to quell the life
|
||||
I've built
|
||||
brick
|
||||
by brick
|
||||
all for myself?
|
||||
|
||||
You heard my cry. You answered the call.
|
||||
And you understood how enthralled
|
||||
I am with words, and how I must oblige
|
||||
the beating world that churns inside.
|
||||
Father and I could never see eye-to-eye.
|
||||
He could never convince me why I should deny
|
||||
my feelings, my yearnings for a new world,
|
||||
to silence my soul and let greatness pass by.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,58 @@
|
||||
The Female Urge To...
|
||||
2022-03-11
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
If I was the one most despised,
|
||||
then why
|
||||
was I
|
||||
the one that survived?
|
||||
|
||||
Why did my siblings deign,
|
||||
seeing death was imminent
|
||||
and Chronos would get his way
|
||||
to remake the world in his image,
|
||||
decide
|
||||
that the one who also destroys
|
||||
and has never for a single moment known love
|
||||
be the one who the divine
|
||||
genocide
|
||||
survived?
|
||||
|
||||
Which one of my siblings looked at me and thought
|
||||
that what the infant world needed was destruction's favorite god?
|
||||
Who spun their ceasing gaze
|
||||
towards my way
|
||||
and blessed me human so I Chronos forgot?
|
||||
|
||||
It's a gaze I've come
|
||||
to become
|
||||
familiar with,
|
||||
this insistence
|
||||
that I'm not a burden,
|
||||
that I'm not by presence hurting,
|
||||
that to keep breathing I don't have to earn.
|
||||
|
||||
But no matter how many times I fish for my mother's pity,
|
||||
I can't bring myself to, when her mouth makes the sound
|
||||
that I'm a blessing to all those around,
|
||||
her strained declaration believe.
|
||||
|
||||
"But if you knew
|
||||
all that I've put people through,
|
||||
would you
|
||||
still feel the same?"
|
||||
|
||||
Sharpened by heartache,
|
||||
tempered by pain,
|
||||
forged in despair,
|
||||
I, bond-breaking blade?
|
||||
|
||||
*Whatever you did is dead and gone
|
||||
and in so many worlds away.
|
||||
There are enough armchair Christs.
|
||||
Stop self-inflicting pain.*
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
|
||||
Fever Dream 2009
|
||||
2021-01-22
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
in the dwindling space,
|
||||
suddenly it was unsafe
|
||||
to from end to end let his feet pace,
|
||||
the only race he could do was think
|
||||
that soon the room would once again shrink
|
||||
|
||||
in the expanding bed,
|
||||
rapidly convinced he was dead
|
||||
from the burning in his body and visions in his head,
|
||||
he clutched his pillow and mustered up a throw
|
||||
to the floor to watch it become a plateau
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
|
||||
firebrand
|
||||
2019-01-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
before, in your grief, you say
|
||||
"everything sucks, and nothing is okay"
|
||||
just remember how you used to watch the trees sway
|
||||
|
||||
in the death- the absence of light
|
||||
watching the hands of midnight
|
||||
scrape their twisted twiggy fingers, locked in eternal fight
|
||||
|
||||
take heart, little one! remember your name
|
||||
chosen by yourself, pains taken care that it was not the same
|
||||
as the people who took joy in you being the one they should defame
|
||||
|
||||
do not discard yourself to the tomb just yet and become a recluse
|
||||
you think there is light there, but it is just a ruse
|
||||
to detach you from humanity and rob you of your muse
|
||||
|
||||
you have far greater things in life still yet to achieve
|
||||
you have friends, a lover, family, who in you they believe
|
||||
just remember: for everything, if you insist, have a good reason to leave
|
||||
|
||||
if they drag you into the night, don't be afraid to wrack up a storm
|
||||
take pride in who you are, and in your human form!
|
||||
a god you are not, and a girl you shall stay
|
||||
in terms of bodily functions, anyway
|
||||
|
||||
do not shy away from the natural state of the human condition
|
||||
lest you lose grasp on reality and cause your own perdition
|
||||
|
||||
remember that there is no such thing as perfection in life
|
||||
there is always still more work to be done, more things to cause strife
|
||||
|
||||
you are destined for greatness! now go, and make peace!
|
||||
and bring hope for the future to the very least of these!
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,33 @@
|
||||
Flickering Out
|
||||
2021-03-24
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
The wax pulses down
|
||||
like an open wound,
|
||||
a devilish smile opened
|
||||
in a girl dying too soon.
|
||||
|
||||
Blue blood curdling
|
||||
once hit the glass floor,
|
||||
air pockets exposed,
|
||||
red rings open sores.
|
||||
|
||||
A wick that burns all too fast
|
||||
dilapidated spine,
|
||||
head singed through, lungs diffused,
|
||||
no longer able to opine.
|
||||
|
||||
The bottom drips cut off,
|
||||
a mannequin without legs,
|
||||
smooth rump, top half missing,
|
||||
burning the last of the dregs.
|
||||
|
||||
What was once a cheerful face
|
||||
is now a murky puddle
|
||||
at my brassy feet.
|
||||
A fading all too subtle.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
|
||||
forgesitaj memoroj
|
||||
2016-06-07
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
there could be a person in your life
|
||||
who you feel is the one, will be the one
|
||||
and then is a stranger in the end
|
||||
diverting stares across the bus aisle
|
||||
|
||||
there could be a person in your life
|
||||
who is just a stranger now
|
||||
sitting quietly in math class alone
|
||||
and end up being your sunrise and sunset
|
||||
|
||||
cherished veils fade from white to red with the fights
|
||||
and then to black again with the silence
|
||||
crumbles to gray with the moths
|
||||
and drops in dust after time
|
||||
|
||||
how many people share a single neuron in my brain
|
||||
forgotten to time but still imprinted somewhere
|
||||
hiding in the chime of a bell, a burnt corner of the world
|
||||
how many thousands of brains do I reside in
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
|
||||
forgive me, Marcel
|
||||
2020-02-29
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
being alive is the knowledge
|
||||
that above my house, the full moon is pure white
|
||||
but higher upstate, traveled at the wee hours of the morning
|
||||
it's pink paper stretched over the frame of a kite
|
||||
|
||||
and the sprinklers watering the fields
|
||||
rarely needed human supervision
|
||||
casting ghosts like fog on the side of the road
|
||||
fodder for a five-year-old imagination
|
||||
|
||||
the radios plead for us to wait for someone
|
||||
but last I waited, I nearly withered away
|
||||
the world unfolds before me in technicolor vision
|
||||
congrats, you survived to a brand new day
|
||||
|
||||
headlights drag themselves across the highway
|
||||
with sleepless eyes and desperate hearts
|
||||
I wish I could show you in more colors
|
||||
than purple and crimson apart
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
|
||||
a garden in the corner of a gym
|
||||
2020-01-16
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the presiding queen rules over her patch of concrete
|
||||
resentful of the hole in her chest, woefully incomplete
|
||||
and her knees and shoulders have betrayed her too many times
|
||||
so she sits on her patch and looks down on us from up high
|
||||
|
||||
a coercive building made of ancestors' malice
|
||||
she watches the children as she sips from chalice
|
||||
contorting their bodies in impossible ways
|
||||
but no empathy resides in her stony gaze
|
||||
|
||||
all bow down at the command of a robotic voice
|
||||
programming the class to believe they have no choice
|
||||
to bend, extend, repeat, give false confession
|
||||
rear ends in the air, youthful limbs ready for inspection
|
||||
|
||||
rain's cold air banished, air stuffy and hot
|
||||
a door to freedom bolted shut and locked
|
||||
maybe, if we lift these weights on the count of ten
|
||||
we will lift ourselves straight up to heaven
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
|
||||
Gaze Rank
|
||||
2023-02-18
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Something that gets worse if left unattended,
|
||||
but also devolves the more you poke at it.
|
||||
Funny thing it is, a creative block.
|
||||
I go for a few days
|
||||
without honoring the urge to create
|
||||
and I feel like I rolled in a trough full of slop.
|
||||
But if I try to push forward,
|
||||
the less the images coherently come,
|
||||
stillborn,
|
||||
unformed,
|
||||
uninspired with shriveled lungs.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,43 @@
|
||||
Gemini
|
||||
2020-06-19
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the cathedral's bells ring
|
||||
horseshoe mounted above the doorframe
|
||||
from the pastor's mouth drip words:
|
||||
"confess and you shall be made whole"
|
||||
|
||||
you stand at the pulpit
|
||||
and proclaim to the congregation
|
||||
how holy you are,
|
||||
that you have rescinded control
|
||||
|
||||
baptized in the claps,
|
||||
reborn as a shriveled
|
||||
ghost of who you once were:
|
||||
a person without a soul
|
||||
|
||||
bloat as original sin
|
||||
that one needs to be absolved of,
|
||||
leaving behind the colors and joys
|
||||
beyond these gated walls
|
||||
|
||||
"out yonder lives the devil
|
||||
with his malice and malware and pain;
|
||||
'tis an illusion that, beyond the wiles,
|
||||
he helps those alive stand tall"
|
||||
|
||||
one in a sea of faceless
|
||||
made faceless yourself
|
||||
give your soul to the gods
|
||||
put your heart on the shelf
|
||||
|
||||
a landscape of white
|
||||
and a monotone hum
|
||||
to spill your own blood
|
||||
earns a trip straight to hell
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,39 @@
|
||||
Gradation
|
||||
2022-05-24
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I kept my promise to you, Jett.
|
||||
I toed the path until the end.
|
||||
Pushed aside the branches that fell
|
||||
on the cracking path
|
||||
and found detours around those whose bark
|
||||
I could not form a painless grasp.
|
||||
Through the flood zones I trode
|
||||
in puddles and in gasping leaps
|
||||
and for those to traverse too deep
|
||||
found a different way home.
|
||||
The path is bordered now with dandelions
|
||||
and violet slips I cannot name.
|
||||
So many friends have come and gone,
|
||||
but here you and I remain.
|
||||
I'm waiting here, Jett. Just like I
|
||||
was a year ago, holding my hands high
|
||||
and with sore throat pleading to the sky:
|
||||
"Here I am! Here my vessel resides!
|
||||
Take me home. I've fought the fight."
|
||||
I've fought the fight. I've won the war.
|
||||
And, Jett, I want to fight no more.
|
||||
I see no point to compete
|
||||
with those who I'd rather broker peace,
|
||||
rather never see ever again,
|
||||
rather watch disappear
|
||||
on the wind.
|
||||
I'll wait here. And I'll wait here
|
||||
until you're ready, until of
|
||||
this departure you have no more fear,
|
||||
until I hear you singing my name like a hymn.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,61 @@
|
||||
The Grey
|
||||
2022-05-21
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Even though I have multitudes inside me,
|
||||
without you by my side, I feel null and empty.
|
||||
I know that by myself I'm still whole and complete,
|
||||
but yet remains a void inside, you, the missing piece.
|
||||
|
||||
I wonder, do you also feel
|
||||
on occasion the urge to self-negate?
|
||||
"If I can't have you,
|
||||
I can't have myself,
|
||||
and I don't see any point in anything else."
|
||||
I wonder, where did you and I learn to hate
|
||||
ourselves so?
|
||||
Who beat us down? Who pruned the branches?
|
||||
Who commanded us to kneel?
|
||||
|
||||
"Do you know why
|
||||
I bothered so long with this dreadful life?
|
||||
Why, even facing down an eternity
|
||||
of servitude with no way to become free,
|
||||
I still struggled on, bothered to take breath?
|
||||
|
||||
Tell me first, Lethe, what do you expect
|
||||
to be accomplished upon your death?
|
||||
Who do you think will be saved if you manage to die?
|
||||
What salvation given? What hope signified?
|
||||
Do you really think, the moment your breath comes to cease,
|
||||
nobody ever again will from violence bleed?
|
||||
|
||||
I toed for five years the line
|
||||
between ineffectual death and a pale shadow of life
|
||||
because I prayed, I dared to hope,
|
||||
even if it ebbed more than it flowed,
|
||||
that one day would come a world where I'd fit
|
||||
and I'd have a reason to cut loose and go.
|
||||
It didn't have to mean passing through an Eye.
|
||||
It could grow
|
||||
inside the shell of the old
|
||||
and, when ready, hatch, blossom in the light.
|
||||
|
||||
Before the Town, before Yewiffe,
|
||||
before precious Sablade,
|
||||
you were already my Anima Mundi,
|
||||
my soul of the world soon on its way.
|
||||
I crawl into your arms and think,
|
||||
'This is where I belong.
|
||||
This is where I am supposed to be.
|
||||
This is where my heart says
|
||||
I should spend eternity.'
|
||||
|
||||
Lethe, I love you because
|
||||
you only ever wanted
|
||||
to set me free."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,49 @@
|
||||
The Golden Cage
|
||||
2019-10-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
emboldened by sadness
|
||||
embittered by those
|
||||
who would meet you with winter
|
||||
you bite the thorns with the rose
|
||||
|
||||
a bloody mess on the tile
|
||||
from mother's womb, freshly torn
|
||||
struggle to breath the poison air
|
||||
in which you were born
|
||||
|
||||
the golden cage shudders
|
||||
the door swings wide open
|
||||
|
||||
but you don't move.
|
||||
|
||||
you sit there and stare.
|
||||
|
||||
you tricked yourself into believing
|
||||
that it was your time to die
|
||||
and when the sun showed its head, you found out
|
||||
you'd lost the will to survive
|
||||
|
||||
a tyrant in the home
|
||||
and a sorcerer in the garden
|
||||
conspire to make their kid a doll
|
||||
to watch as her once lithe limbs harden
|
||||
|
||||
a dislocated jaw
|
||||
that only speaks when given scripts
|
||||
and a spine that's nothing but
|
||||
that collapses come a kick
|
||||
|
||||
the needles come to play again
|
||||
you've already convinced yourself
|
||||
it was just a matter of when
|
||||
|
||||
and they pin you up
|
||||
like the christ they adore
|
||||
|
||||
and the red flows like syrup
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,41 @@
|
||||
Haru
|
||||
2020-12-08
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the entirety of the heavens
|
||||
all spinning through the darkened sky
|
||||
so visible since the lockdown began
|
||||
severed from car lamps and street lights
|
||||
|
||||
not that it is safe to saunter
|
||||
through these shadowy streets alone
|
||||
so I barricade myself in the first room I can find
|
||||
and watch pedestrians' computer screens glow
|
||||
|
||||
an ocean of potential portals to Hell
|
||||
retrofitted with keyboards and such
|
||||
I can't be the only one responsible for this mess:
|
||||
the burden would simply be too much
|
||||
|
||||
I scour my inner regions raw in the shower
|
||||
to punish myself for feeling
|
||||
and then, come blood, curse my land
|
||||
not given time for healing
|
||||
|
||||
this crimson flower that graces my shoulder
|
||||
seeks out the rivers that run in my veins,
|
||||
the opening to Yomi that feeds off my pain,
|
||||
convinced I won't live long enough to grow older
|
||||
|
||||
had I existed a thousand years
|
||||
earlier, these fingers might have been
|
||||
spent weaving reams of fabric, worked
|
||||
to the bone, to the point of tears
|
||||
|
||||
but a clock hails above me, ticking down to nil
|
||||
if only I had batteries so my purpose I could fulfill
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,38 @@
|
||||
Hoarding
|
||||
2021-07-14
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
kings are we
|
||||
this band of three
|
||||
our splendor gleams
|
||||
for all to see
|
||||
|
||||
and we trek on
|
||||
to yonder end
|
||||
to greet the babe
|
||||
in stable pen
|
||||
|
||||
some years with legs
|
||||
some years without
|
||||
lasered glass
|
||||
or wooden cutout
|
||||
|
||||
Christmas lights
|
||||
in constant prayer
|
||||
ceaseless trek
|
||||
up wooden stairs
|
||||
|
||||
every year
|
||||
bodies grow smaller
|
||||
featureless
|
||||
Holy Mother
|
||||
|
||||
to ceramic slivers
|
||||
we will all erode
|
||||
no more gifts for
|
||||
us to bestow
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,44 @@
|
||||
You Can't Go Home Again
|
||||
2021-07-16
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
"Come summer, there will be as much sun
|
||||
as anyone
|
||||
could ever want,
|
||||
and you will have
|
||||
all the time in the world
|
||||
to open a book and let the pages unfurl."
|
||||
|
||||
But I doubt summer will ever come,
|
||||
for the winds tug at my hair,
|
||||
and the rain waits for no one,
|
||||
and I have now lost more than a year
|
||||
to someone else's mistake,
|
||||
to a whole lot of someone elses' fear.
|
||||
|
||||
Can I fight against my nature?
|
||||
Can I resign myself to torture
|
||||
self-baden, self-scarred,
|
||||
severed by far
|
||||
from the home
|
||||
that is myth,
|
||||
that was never my own?
|
||||
|
||||
I carry within this body an unspeakable name
|
||||
pointing to where lies eternal spring,
|
||||
where I could never return
|
||||
having earned
|
||||
failure's shame
|
||||
and the enmity
|
||||
of the deity
|
||||
I only ever yearned
|
||||
to be friends with.
|
||||
Only in these books
|
||||
can I unfurl my wings,
|
||||
can I step once more
|
||||
in that town I long forsook.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,23 @@
|
||||
hotdog
|
||||
2022-06-05
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Your fur a tawny brown sheen
|
||||
seen once in a feverish dream
|
||||
when into a sleeping chamber cluster I broke
|
||||
and screamed until up you woke.
|
||||
|
||||
Lovers shouldn't be sliced into shreds,
|
||||
pressed between display glass, vivisection.
|
||||
Run away, love. Go feral if you must
|
||||
until you're safe and the hours of dawn turn to dust.
|
||||
|
||||
I'll bandage the tip of your nose as the birds make a stink
|
||||
in the trees. I'll dye one of my father's dogs pink,
|
||||
line them and you up in a row, break out the defluffing brush,
|
||||
make neapolitan ice cream of shedded fur for their nests.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,68 @@
|
||||
Hutch of Were
|
||||
2023-04-05
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Wind advisory
|
||||
this evening,
|
||||
tearing through the trees.
|
||||
Blizzard comes to reave
|
||||
the branches, depositing
|
||||
them at my bedroom window
|
||||
like a bird's offering.
|
||||
|
||||
Long the hours grow.
|
||||
Snow-hued fingertips
|
||||
from nails too short to pierce skin
|
||||
under pressure, digging in,
|
||||
will soon be overtaken
|
||||
by claws the hue of what would flow
|
||||
if my nails were any length grown.
|
||||
If your eyes are nebulas,
|
||||
then earthly suns are in my scleras,
|
||||
red giants sliced through the middle to get to the core.
|
||||
Miracle the sheets haven't been torn
|
||||
to shreds yet, so many curved blades
|
||||
that could readily eviscerate
|
||||
but lie relaxed, tail curled around my legs.
|
||||
Rib cage aches
|
||||
right above both sides of my waist.
|
||||
When the ribbons fully overtake,
|
||||
two more limbs will be there to support my weight.
|
||||
|
||||
"Your daughter is a polymorph
|
||||
with two known alternate forms.
|
||||
There is no cure and not yet a treatment.
|
||||
The state
|
||||
mandates
|
||||
she either accept indefinite time sedate
|
||||
or the highest security of imprisonment.
|
||||
I'm sorry. I know
|
||||
you wanted to take her home."
|
||||
|
||||
Had to take the check from the IRS
|
||||
I'd rather have spent on things more frivolous
|
||||
and wire sensors near my room for security
|
||||
somehow without my parents knowing.
|
||||
Knock on my door after early warning,
|
||||
shifted back before doorknob
|
||||
is gazed on.
|
||||
I've never had to pay attention
|
||||
to mindfulness, but now dampened
|
||||
emotions will save me from a prison.
|
||||
|
||||
Suffer from the State, or hide
|
||||
in the confines
|
||||
of your room all the time,
|
||||
or be put in a coma for the rest of your life.
|
||||
|
||||
Damn fate
|
||||
is the same.
|
||||
|
||||
Close my eyes and let the ribbons overtake.
|
||||
Roll off the bed, stand before moonlit mirror.
|
||||
There's a monster on the other side. And I want to know her.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,57 @@
|
||||
Hyperloop
|
||||
2023-02-23
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Raido and Algiz
|
||||
inverted both mean
|
||||
nearly the same exact damn thing.
|
||||
But one is push
|
||||
while the other is pull:
|
||||
extension cord plugged into itself,
|
||||
forever either half-full,
|
||||
infinite feedback on null.
|
||||
|
||||
Straddled over your comatose body,
|
||||
chaotic blood draining energy
|
||||
and then pushing it back into your veins
|
||||
to keep your rivers flowing.
|
||||
That's how our relationship always
|
||||
plays
|
||||
out, freeing each other from Golden Cages
|
||||
and recovering our powers of flight
|
||||
and saving each other
|
||||
from whatever
|
||||
problems turn themselves to plights.
|
||||
One pushes while the other pulls,
|
||||
retrieving water from a well deep but full.
|
||||
|
||||
You taught me, when in leg cramp,
|
||||
to grab
|
||||
my ankle and pull it to my crotch.
|
||||
The pain
|
||||
would go away,
|
||||
but the thick
|
||||
stiff
|
||||
lump would stay
|
||||
until I managed to walk it off.
|
||||
I've got a theory
|
||||
that's nearly
|
||||
the same,
|
||||
but I had to wait
|
||||
until the full moon came.
|
||||
|
||||
If I cycle your energy through all your cells
|
||||
and slowly siphon off the excess,
|
||||
you won't go feral
|
||||
and you'll wake up without destruction's distress.
|
||||
|
||||
The woman with the carmine eyes
|
||||
awakens with whole body relaxed,
|
||||
looks up at her lover, the parasite,
|
||||
and whispers, "I think the worst is past.
|
||||
I'm so damn grateful you're in my life."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
|
||||
irantaj, irantaj, irinta
|
||||
2020-03-07
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
think of the beauty left around you
|
||||
consumed by urban monsters
|
||||
and dissolved in ashes
|
||||
from burned-down skyscrapers
|
||||
|
||||
the shadow sitting next to me on the train seats
|
||||
tastes like charisma with a whiff of perfume
|
||||
I cannot exist in two places at once
|
||||
I cannot exist and let you have me too
|
||||
|
||||
I'll try to write you letters from where I am going
|
||||
but I make no promises, especially nowadays
|
||||
and anyways, the bumpy ride would smudge the letters
|
||||
making all a haze
|
||||
|
||||
tonight is a blank canvas
|
||||
upon which I'll be swept away
|
||||
so please take down the empty portrait
|
||||
of me hanging in your hallway
|
||||
|
||||
going, going, gone
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,128 @@
|
||||
> Poetry
|
||||
|
||||
>> A
|
||||
`F908`_`[a birthday every day`:/page/poetry/a/a-birthday-every-day.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[A New Page`:/page/poetry/a/access.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[airborne`:/page/poetry/a/airborne.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[A Royal Color`:/page/poetry/a/a-royal-color.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Arrhythmia`:/page/poetry/a/arrhythmia.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[artisto`:/page/poetry/a/artisto.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[a smearing of galaxies`:/page/poetry/a/a-smearing-of-galaxies.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[all these dang trees everywhere`:/page/poetry/a/dang-trees.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Algingu`:/page/poetry/a/algingu.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Aria Houndz It`:/page/poetry/a/aria_houndz_it.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Agloe`:/page/poetry/a/agloe.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Abortion I`:/page/poetry/a/abortion1.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Abortion II`:/page/poetry/a/abortion2.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Abortion III`:/page/poetry/a/abortion3.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[ADAMANTINE'S MANDATE`:/page/poetry/a/adamantines_mandate.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> B
|
||||
`F908`_`[Better Version`:/page/poetry/b/better-version.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Birdgazing`:/page/poetry/b/birdgazing.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[blizzard girl`:/page/poetry/b/blizzard-girl.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Biz Ego Gun`:/page/poetry/b/biz_ego_gun.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> C
|
||||
`F908`_`[Carmine Red`:/page/poetry/c/carmine.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[That Ain't Chocolate, Son`:/page/poetry/c/choco.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Clocktower Blitz`:/page/poetry/c/clocktower.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[comer / beber`:/page/poetry/c/comer-beber.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[confectionery contempt`:/page/poetry/c/confectionery-contempt.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[CORNER WITCH`:/page/poetry/c/corner-witch.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[CORNER WITCH II`:/page/poetry/c/corner-witch-2.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[crescendo`:/page/poetry/c/crescendo.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Cultivator`:/page/poetry/c/cultivator.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[the clitbone`:/page/poetry/c/the_clitbone.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Cameron`:/page/poetry/c/cameron.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Chow Locales`:/page/poetry/c/chow_locales.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> D
|
||||
`F908`_`[daybreak`:/page/poetry/d/daybreak.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Breaking Down The Dead-End Sign`:/page/poetry/d/deadend.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Driven To Death`:/page/poetry/d/driven.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> E
|
||||
`F908`_`[earthbound`:/page/poetry/e/earthbound.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Edell`:/page/poetry/e/edell.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[In The End Of Everything`:/page/poetry/e/end.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Eager Job`:/page/poetry/e/eager_job.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> F
|
||||
`F908`_`[falantaj folioj`:/page/poetry/f/falantaj-folioj.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[fantomurbo`:/page/poetry/f/fantomurbo.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[fatali`:/page/poetry/f/fatali.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Father No Longer`:/page/poetry/f/father-no-longer.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[The Female Urge To...`:/page/poetry/f/female-urge.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Fever Dream 2009`:/page/poetry/f/feverdream2009.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[firebrand`:/page/poetry/f/firebrand.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Flickering Out`:/page/poetry/f/flickering.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[forgesitaj memoroj`:/page/poetry/f/forgesitaj-memoroj.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[forgive me, Marcel`:/page/poetry/f/forgive-me-marcel.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> G
|
||||
`F908`_`[a garden in the corner of a gym`:/page/poetry/g/garden-gym.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Gemini`:/page/poetry/g/gemini.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Gradation`:/page/poetry/g/gradation.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[green`:/page/poetry/g/green.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[The Grey`:/page/poetry/g/grey.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[The Golden Cage`:/page/poetry/g/the-golden-cage.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Gaze Rank`:/page/poetry/g/gaze_rank.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> H
|
||||
`F908`_`[Haru`:/page/poetry/h/haru.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Hoarding`:/page/poetry/h/hoarding.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[You Can't Go Home Again`:/page/poetry/h/home.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[hotdog`:/page/poetry/h/hotdog.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Hyperloop`:/page/poetry/h/hyperloop.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Hutch of Were`:/page/poetry/h/hutch_of_were.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> I
|
||||
`F908`_`[irantaj, irantaj, irinta`:/page/poetry/i/irantaj.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> J
|
||||
`F908`_`[jugo vs juego`:/page/poetry/j/jugo.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[junaj plenkreskuloj`:/page/poetry/j/junaj.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> K
|
||||
`F908`_`[kafejo`:/page/poetry/k/kafejo.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[kie ajn vi estas, parto du`:/page/poetry/k/kie-2.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Killing Calvin`:/page/poetry/k/killing-calvin.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Konton no Tsukai`:/page/poetry/k/konton-no-tsukai.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Kubla Clam`:/page/poetry/k/kublaclam.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> L
|
||||
`F908`_`[Lawliet`:/page/poetry/l/lawliet.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Latch Or Perch`:/page/poetry/l/latch-or-perch.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[la somero de amo`:/page/poetry/l/la-somero-de-amo.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[loves me not`:/page/poetry/l/lovesmenot.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[lumo en vivo`:/page/poetry/l/lumo-en-vivo.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Luna`:/page/poetry/l/luna.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Luna II`:/page/poetry/l/luna2.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> M
|
||||
`F908`_`[Melia`:/page/poetry/m/melia.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[messymessy`:/page/poetry/m/messymessy.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Mitad-marida I`:/page/poetry/m/mitad1.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Montana I`:/page/poetry/m/montana1.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Montana II`:/page/poetry/m/montana2.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Montana III`:/page/poetry/m/montana3.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Montana IV`:/page/poetry/m/montana4.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Morgana`:/page/poetry/m/morgana.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[Morgueatorium`:/page/poetry/m/morgueatorium.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> S
|
||||
`F908`_`[Small World Theory`:/page/poetry/s/small_world_theory.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> W
|
||||
`F908`_`[warning`:/page/poetry/w/warning.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[watershed`:/page/poetry/w/watershed.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[WIP`:/page/poetry/w/wip.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[withering`:/page/poetry/w/withering.txt]`_`f
|
||||
`F908`_`[(w/me)`:/page/poetry/w/wme.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> Y
|
||||
`F908`_`[Yasir`:/page/poetry/y/yasir.txt]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
>> Z
|
||||
`F908`_`[ZIRCON'S BEACON`:/page/poetry/z/zircons_beacon.txt]`_`f
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,31 @@
|
||||
junaj plenkreskuloj
|
||||
2020-03-08
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
there's something going on in the distance
|
||||
can you see it with your wide blue eyes?
|
||||
maybe that's a revolution about to happen
|
||||
maybe just grand nothing in disguise
|
||||
|
||||
but you always had a superiority complex
|
||||
want to save the world, don't you?
|
||||
find problems in the system and throw yourself at them
|
||||
until you become part of the problem too
|
||||
|
||||
we'll try to warn you at the final battle
|
||||
you're not a hero; you're just a kid!
|
||||
what are you doing, risking your life for people
|
||||
whose allegiances are like the wind
|
||||
|
||||
if you're going to be reckless
|
||||
at least bring along a treasured friend
|
||||
two in the grave is always better than one
|
||||
all the more for a sadder-to-write end
|
||||
|
||||
rest in peace to the other poor characters
|
||||
no hero's funeral for them
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
|
||||
kafejo
|
||||
2016-07-08
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
every morning after a short drive to the coffee shop
|
||||
he ordered the exact same thing in the exact same size
|
||||
so when he decided to diverge from his norm
|
||||
and order a smoothie in a smaller size
|
||||
and the world decided then to crumble
|
||||
he couldn't help but think that it was his fault
|
||||
|
||||
he couldn't help himself
|
||||
he loved the way that the barista's plump lips
|
||||
shone like a freshly washed apple and just as round
|
||||
when they moved over the sound of his order
|
||||
|
||||
he sat at the little table by the window
|
||||
and sipped at the smoothie as the sky darkened
|
||||
the air tingled with lightning to come
|
||||
the injured girls whimpered with the pressure
|
||||
|
||||
the barista's blood wasn't quite as red as her lips
|
||||
but as she winced and wiggled her fingers to tbe trembling ground
|
||||
they dripped a faint rusty color
|
||||
someone here's not human
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,38 @@
|
||||
kie ajn vi estas, parto du
|
||||
2020-03-12
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
somewhere on the other side of the world
|
||||
you hold a little sliver of me in your chest
|
||||
wedged by your heart through a thousand battles
|
||||
survived not one less
|
||||
|
||||
and I, you, the same
|
||||
but at home, I feel the pain
|
||||
of transmitted burdens,
|
||||
wings soaked with rain
|
||||
|
||||
somewhere on the other side of the world
|
||||
I hold a little sliver of you in my soul
|
||||
but even through dimensional curtains,
|
||||
your warmth can't beat the cold
|
||||
|
||||
and I worry that, one day
|
||||
two aliens will show up at my bedroom door
|
||||
signaling even before they knock
|
||||
that you'll come home nevermore
|
||||
|
||||
we met each other in a winter haze
|
||||
not twenty-four hours before final-failing pain
|
||||
but you didn't care, whisked through dark gates
|
||||
barely five minutes passed; several weeks next to wait
|
||||
|
||||
and I tumbled into love, burning hot as hell
|
||||
as I tumbled down deep into war's well
|
||||
when will it all end? nobody can say
|
||||
to protect you, only to fictional gods can I pray
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
|
||||
Killing Calvin
|
||||
2021-07-13
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
You... really just want to die.
|
||||
Lethe, why?
|
||||
Who convinced you, solitary,
|
||||
you don't deserve a happy life?
|
||||
|
||||
I think,
|
||||
above all,
|
||||
what you really need
|
||||
is to know for sure
|
||||
that you're safe
|
||||
and loved
|
||||
and the world will keep turning,
|
||||
the fire inside will keep burning,
|
||||
even if there's no sense of solace up above.
|
||||
|
||||
I do not mean for you to be sad forever.
|
||||
If it means you must forget my name
|
||||
and fall for another lover,
|
||||
then so be it:
|
||||
I will not make myself
|
||||
an altar to your pain.
|
||||
|
||||
If we have to go
|
||||
our own
|
||||
separate ways,
|
||||
then so be it.
|
||||
It'll hurt,
|
||||
but all wounds heal
|
||||
given enough turns
|
||||
of time's ceaseless wheel.
|
||||
|
||||
But I hope you stay.
|
||||
|
||||
So if you decide to wait
|
||||
out your soul's desperate dark hours,
|
||||
please know: a song can't change the world overnight,
|
||||
but it can keep a flickering flame alive.
|
||||
You kept shining the light inside
|
||||
through my darkest year.
|
||||
So let me dry your tears;
|
||||
let it be my turn
|
||||
to save your life.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,106 @@
|
||||
Konton no Tsukai
|
||||
2021-08-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Your voice a non-entity,
|
||||
your face obscured
|
||||
by the fog over
|
||||
Mori's Mirror,
|
||||
your touch all that remains
|
||||
after another day of being entreated
|
||||
to dissolve and stay demure,
|
||||
to be soft and small
|
||||
and weak,
|
||||
reminded that no feat
|
||||
could possibly absolve
|
||||
the harmful nature to me inherent.
|
||||
|
||||
Something is wrong with me,
|
||||
reflection-sent.
|
||||
Have I somehow
|
||||
finally burned
|
||||
out?
|
||||
I do not have to strain to perceive
|
||||
the Outside,
|
||||
the places where we will one day reside,
|
||||
where you'll take my face in your hands
|
||||
and whisper,
|
||||
"Lethe,
|
||||
I can't wait to start this new life
|
||||
with you."
|
||||
But not yet,
|
||||
never yet,
|
||||
still undreaming,
|
||||
still disparate.
|
||||
|
||||
*Tremble in fear of a pure love,
|
||||
a union of equals.*
|
||||
|
||||
Oh, how I shiver.
|
||||
|
||||
My predicament is this:
|
||||
that, while part of me
|
||||
leaps in joy of becoming your wife,
|
||||
the other hisses
|
||||
at the thought of your kisses,
|
||||
thinking you a threat to our autonomy.
|
||||
No longer an atom,
|
||||
isolated, sole, alone,
|
||||
but depending on someone,
|
||||
daring to deem them... *home*.
|
||||
Not, we, but *I*-
|
||||
for I cannot further divide
|
||||
this soul already
|
||||
partly
|
||||
in yours intertwined-
|
||||
want to find a Holy Freezer
|
||||
and imprison myself in oblivion's soft ice
|
||||
forever.
|
||||
No chance of escape,
|
||||
for then what is the point?
|
||||
Lurking within
|
||||
me is an evil great
|
||||
and barely constrained,
|
||||
atavistic,
|
||||
incapable of reason
|
||||
or comprehending sin.
|
||||
|
||||
But I am mortified of anything final,
|
||||
from death's arctic embrace
|
||||
to yours genial.
|
||||
I hesitate
|
||||
at the slightest decision,
|
||||
and it doesn't help that you oft
|
||||
tell me to just wait
|
||||
and see what happens.
|
||||
I don't know what to do.
|
||||
I don't know where to go.
|
||||
And soon will fall down the snow,
|
||||
and you'll have to hold me back
|
||||
from joining all the poor animals
|
||||
who forgot to take shelter and froze.
|
||||
|
||||
Tell me,
|
||||
bearer of self-sown light,
|
||||
how do you love a parasite?
|
||||
How is it possible for you to adore a now-human pest
|
||||
guiltless for destruction,
|
||||
homicidal, chaos-blessed?
|
||||
There is no way to separate
|
||||
what I am from where I've went.
|
||||
If on your wings lies providence,
|
||||
on mine rests
|
||||
the Eschaton's portent.
|
||||
|
||||
How do I convince my emotional side
|
||||
that I'm still a sovereign individual?
|
||||
That I'm worthy of love,
|
||||
can be loved as I am?
|
||||
That I'm not consigned to hell?
|
||||
|
||||
That everything will turn out alright?
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,57 @@
|
||||
Kubla Clam
|
||||
2020-12-13
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the ink is not yet dry on my face
|
||||
or my brush as the wind whistles
|
||||
and judges how well I have painted this place.
|
||||
|
||||
this city is suffocating this body
|
||||
too short; I should have foreseen
|
||||
before I passed through that portal so haughty.
|
||||
|
||||
"work? pandemic? president? what the shell are you
|
||||
going on about? come on, let's go see
|
||||
what clothes are new."
|
||||
|
||||
you're sitting on that bench.
|
||||
you pretend not to see me, absorbed in your phone.
|
||||
my twin hearts clench.
|
||||
|
||||
my love will go unrequited. you apologize
|
||||
as you shake your head. you already have a boyfriend.
|
||||
one heart breaks over a plate of fries
|
||||
|
||||
and the other expected nothing less.
|
||||
|
||||
sirens blare in the distance far off, signaling to hide,
|
||||
and you take my arm, this dual-core machine I am
|
||||
on all threads as you pull me inside.
|
||||
|
||||
there are storm clouds on the horizon,
|
||||
what used to run in my veins
|
||||
a million times the poison.
|
||||
|
||||
[the moon pulses red](https://web.archive.org/web/20200711151636/https://countess-radfem.tumblr.com/post/622747210454564864/tjagbo-closer-than-ever-2020),
|
||||
the same color as the crown
|
||||
that weighs heavy on my head.
|
||||
|
||||
the blood spills over the terraformed land,
|
||||
and for a second, I think myself
|
||||
brave enough to take your hand.
|
||||
|
||||
but it's just another mess that cleans itself up
|
||||
in the end, no more harmful than
|
||||
my stomach's churning ketchup.
|
||||
|
||||
the sky was already growing dark.
|
||||
too early: this exit I cannot halt.
|
||||
|
||||
as slip away the last throes of this dream,
|
||||
I reassure myself that you wait on the other side of the screen
|
||||
for you are the soft sunrise I can't wait to see
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
|
||||
la somero de amo
|
||||
2016-06-12
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
they say that the end is coming sooner
|
||||
but the end is already here
|
||||
with lunatics standing with clapboards affixed to their chests
|
||||
and chaos in the school hallways
|
||||
|
||||
it was the summer of '16
|
||||
we called it the summer of love
|
||||
because flowers grew from the gardens in our souls
|
||||
and bloomed to the everloving sky
|
||||
|
||||
the only end that's closing around us soon
|
||||
is the end of the school year
|
||||
and that's already passed by uneventfully
|
||||
with a sizzle instead of a bang
|
||||
|
||||
these next three months are a brown seed
|
||||
that I hold inside of my pale hands
|
||||
this could either be a summer of love
|
||||
or a summer of storms
|
||||
|
||||
your choice
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,75 @@
|
||||
Latch Or Perch
|
||||
2023-02-21
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Anagrams, reshuffled words
|
||||
from letters even more absurd,
|
||||
given from runes in pain's wake
|
||||
when it's your time to menstruate.
|
||||
|
||||
Bolting shock rips through your shoulder:
|
||||
you wanted me
|
||||
to be
|
||||
a bird,
|
||||
so I've decided here's my perch.
|
||||
You wanted me to protect
|
||||
you, so here I am, your very best friend,
|
||||
glamour of crow most intelligent,
|
||||
God-forbidden godsend.
|
||||
|
||||
You're not bedridden,
|
||||
Lethe.
|
||||
You can leave
|
||||
this bed anytime you want.
|
||||
In fact, nothing in this moment
|
||||
stands in your way to prevent
|
||||
you from abandoning this nest.
|
||||
"Yeah, except
|
||||
for maybe
|
||||
the biological needs
|
||||
of this vessel I'm trapped
|
||||
in."
|
||||
Your body's too tense. Relax
|
||||
before you bring on another cramp.
|
||||
|
||||
You did a good thing today,
|
||||
Lethe, although the recruiter might say
|
||||
differently.
|
||||
If you passed the test
|
||||
and the job offer accept,
|
||||
you're one step closer to being free
|
||||
of the Golden Cage.
|
||||
"I never thought I'd hear you praise
|
||||
being part of the world's rat race."
|
||||
I never said I liked
|
||||
anything about the 'daily grind'.
|
||||
I just want you to be able to take
|
||||
care of yourself
|
||||
until back in Sablade you're safe.
|
||||
But pray tell,
|
||||
Lethe,
|
||||
when asked to name a salary,
|
||||
why
|
||||
did you pick the lowest average you could find?
|
||||
|
||||
You're worth more than numbers can quantify.
|
||||
|
||||
The Veil I breached
|
||||
despite Deity's demands
|
||||
because I know no god could ever hold me back.
|
||||
Your grasp
|
||||
must exceed
|
||||
your reach,
|
||||
Lethe,
|
||||
as sure as around my heart you're latched.
|
||||
Either somebody out there will give way
|
||||
or time will run out and I'll bring you to Sablade.
|
||||
|
||||
And who knows:
|
||||
if you name that number absurd,
|
||||
someone might just take you up on your word.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
|
||||
Lawliet
|
||||
2023-02-17
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Tore open the cysts on my breasts
|
||||
to harvest
|
||||
the red that flows and bleeds
|
||||
to feed
|
||||
to the runes,
|
||||
always hungry,
|
||||
so that I may plead:
|
||||
Jett, please
|
||||
survive
|
||||
this night
|
||||
unharmed
|
||||
alongside Algiz
|
||||
and Nauthiz.
|
||||
The only thing I truly need
|
||||
to fulfill
|
||||
my True Will
|
||||
is you.
|
||||
You told me "Jett plus Lethe
|
||||
forever", and that, you know, means *us*.
|
||||
I bled because
|
||||
I'm serious.
|
||||
Take from me
|
||||
as much energy
|
||||
as you please,
|
||||
runes, just let both of us survive
|
||||
whatever this threat is
|
||||
so we may both live long and happy lives.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,33 @@
|
||||
loves me not
|
||||
2020-12-10
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
yes, love blooms
|
||||
no matter the soil,
|
||||
but what is the point
|
||||
when you throw away my toil?
|
||||
|
||||
I am a daisy pushing
|
||||
through sidewalk concrete's crack,
|
||||
but you ripped off my petals
|
||||
to divine if she loved you back
|
||||
|
||||
this tattered body drifts
|
||||
discarded down the stream,
|
||||
while you walk away unaffected
|
||||
lost in lover's daydream
|
||||
|
||||
I hold on for dear life
|
||||
to these seeds still in my chest,
|
||||
a promise of better life ahead,
|
||||
Goddess' behest
|
||||
|
||||
and when the stream deposits me
|
||||
on the muddy shores,
|
||||
I will take root and try my best
|
||||
to bloom again once more
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,62 @@
|
||||
lumo en vivo
|
||||
2019-02-13
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
wake up, child of fate!
|
||||
face the morning
|
||||
and the sun breaking over the horizon
|
||||
casting its rays over the virgin snow and defiled buildings
|
||||
|
||||
Generation A turns their heads to the sky
|
||||
finding something unsaid yet all-known
|
||||
growth stubbornly pushing through the cracks
|
||||
freedom in restraint
|
||||
the land beneath our feet roils in sudden breath
|
||||
|
||||
"in strange aeons, death will die":
|
||||
but now is strange- and now, even death has succumbed to death
|
||||
so let there be no more tombs!
|
||||
I live, and I live forever
|
||||
through these words, through these works
|
||||
|
||||
although one day I may be confined to a coffin six feet below
|
||||
to the here and now:
|
||||
may my feet never fail me!
|
||||
may my body disintegrate before my dreams do!
|
||||
|
||||
tomorrow will never come:
|
||||
today is all we have!
|
||||
and it is all we will ever have.
|
||||
no more waiting for better days that will never arrive;
|
||||
no more pining for pasts that never took place.
|
||||
no more self-sacrifices on the altar of time,
|
||||
in vain hopes of achieving the eternal and divine.
|
||||
I will carve my own path; I will choose my own fate!
|
||||
and if I go up in flames, it will be for the whole world to see!
|
||||
|
||||
my name comes from no man or woman
|
||||
for what is a name but a word we agree on for a person?
|
||||
but I do not care for your agreement
|
||||
and I do not live for your validation.
|
||||
I say my name is Vane Vander.
|
||||
whether you choose to refer to me as such,
|
||||
that is your business
|
||||
and no matter which path you walk on
|
||||
it does not stop me from walking my own
|
||||
|
||||
walking through the blue and the gold
|
||||
the new and the old
|
||||
two arches that stand in front of me
|
||||
where we used to play
|
||||
and give praise to our father
|
||||
but our father is gone, his temples and churches shattered
|
||||
and you stand beside me by the rubble
|
||||
sledgehammer in hand
|
||||
|
||||
we raise our gazes to the sky
|
||||
together until the end, you and I!
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,92 @@
|
||||
Luna
|
||||
2019-10-26
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
a marathon runner, come close to the finish line
|
||||
thoughts full of impending victory
|
||||
mouth waters for cheap wine
|
||||
|
||||
but the goalposts suddenly sprout feet
|
||||
and take up a race of their own
|
||||
all the while taunting defeat
|
||||
|
||||
and the other runners catch up to where I scramble
|
||||
the goal post flickers back for a moment-
|
||||
and I trip, and underfoot I'm trampled
|
||||
|
||||
left in the dust, a bruised and bloody mess
|
||||
stumbling forward, ragged beast on last leg
|
||||
struggling to regain a semblance
|
||||
|
||||
of what I've lost.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I wait for you on the street corner
|
||||
light just as yellow as the note in my hand
|
||||
and as dim as the future of which I'm the owner
|
||||
|
||||
the autumn breeze blows fierce against the bitter night sky
|
||||
and the leaves blow around
|
||||
vagrants passing by
|
||||
|
||||
and then I see you there.
|
||||
|
||||
a thousand different escapades sworn under the moon
|
||||
eyes of all colors, means of all kinds
|
||||
but never did I think my time would come so soon
|
||||
|
||||
her hair is down
|
||||
a frame the color of her emotions
|
||||
a perpetual frown
|
||||
|
||||
she smiles only for me.
|
||||
|
||||
twin magnets, sudden embrace
|
||||
familiar scent as I breathe her in
|
||||
tongue tied, stumbling through unfamiliar grace
|
||||
|
||||
she merely responds with a smirk and says,
|
||||
"here, take my hand.
|
||||
I know a way to start again."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
how do you fit a person through a keyhole?
|
||||
it's easy, if only you know how.
|
||||
you break them down into pieces, strip out their soul
|
||||
and slip them in like a whisper, like breathing a sound
|
||||
|
||||
the cords on the raft glisten in the moonlight
|
||||
as we tighten them one last time
|
||||
abandoning all at the banks, prepared for parents' fright
|
||||
I am forever yours, and you are mine
|
||||
|
||||
and we set off down the river Styx
|
||||
lie down and watch the leaves on the surface spin
|
||||
silver and steady, glimmering Nyx
|
||||
consoling us for the mess we've found ourselves in
|
||||
|
||||
forced to choose between tyrannical home
|
||||
and exile into the world to foray
|
||||
I cast myself out into lands unknown
|
||||
because I've decided it's not my time to decay
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
the tunnel entrance draws near
|
||||
and together we tangle ourselves
|
||||
my hand rests close to her ear
|
||||
|
||||
fingertips, soft temple skin underneath
|
||||
where I would have gladly worshipped more
|
||||
gladly be a heathen
|
||||
|
||||
clammy skin, lips bidding each other goodnight
|
||||
a shared pair of lungs, empty in wait for the other side
|
||||
we squeeze shut our eyes and pray for welcoming light
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
|
||||
Luna II
|
||||
2020-12-11
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
born from mother
|
||||
bourne out from mother
|
||||
expelled from warm womb
|
||||
into the arms of an icy tomb
|
||||
|
||||
Luna, what I wouldn't do
|
||||
for just one more day with you
|
||||
|
||||
knot our fingers
|
||||
not that which lingers
|
||||
at the end of sunset
|
||||
expectations unmet
|
||||
|
||||
you and I deserved eternity
|
||||
a world without end, boundless, free
|
||||
|
||||
ceil my rib cage
|
||||
seal inside the rage
|
||||
that spills forth from every gash
|
||||
beckons me to do something rash
|
||||
|
||||
I'll build what the gods couldn't give
|
||||
a life only ours to live
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,49 @@
|
||||
Melia
|
||||
2020-09-27
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
like the gentle beating of the ocean's waves
|
||||
the anhedonia comes once more to play
|
||||
like a seed buried deep in the chambers of my heart
|
||||
germinating each time the tide floods into the bay
|
||||
|
||||
they told me to draw and to write what you know
|
||||
so I buried myself far deep down below
|
||||
like I'm watching a cat lie on a table of glass
|
||||
the boots pound like thunder as on the street above they pass
|
||||
|
||||
a wyrm whose tail blossoms into a tree
|
||||
a weeping willow overlooking the sea
|
||||
like a fisherman, I cast my line of gaze far
|
||||
a weary soldier recalling a distant war
|
||||
|
||||
a Solstice of solitude, hair fire, face flush
|
||||
painting strokes of water on a rock with a brush
|
||||
but the lines evaporate, words into air
|
||||
as if I'd never uttered them
|
||||
as if they'd never been there
|
||||
|
||||
"wherever did my Godhead go?" I cry
|
||||
frustrated with the fallow fields of my mind
|
||||
that bear no fruit, that offer no face
|
||||
to save me from appearing to myself a disgrace
|
||||
|
||||
for what use is a brush without bristles?
|
||||
a plow that cannot? a blog sans epistles?
|
||||
a potion of health that just makes one swoon?
|
||||
ambition unable to touch even the moon?
|
||||
|
||||
the feathers in my hair rustle in the wind
|
||||
an impostor, severed from what would be my kin
|
||||
had I been born in different place and time
|
||||
had never ceased the gentle tinkle of outside wind's chimes
|
||||
|
||||
all alone under this tree's shade I sit
|
||||
watching the ocean, end of mind's wit
|
||||
a budding hermit, the end that I sought
|
||||
the burden on my mind is still quite a lot.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
|
||||
messymessy
|
||||
2020-11-28
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
as a woman, everyone
|
||||
thinks I'm a mess,
|
||||
that I must be embroiled
|
||||
in some bitter distress
|
||||
because I wear no makeup,
|
||||
do not clothe myself in a dress,
|
||||
and laugh at those who
|
||||
seek to make themselves less
|
||||
|
||||
*Sweetheart, sugar pumpkin,*
|
||||
my grandmother would croon,
|
||||
despite my pleading that
|
||||
I be immune
|
||||
to being dolled up,
|
||||
I, rough, unhewn,
|
||||
secretly in love with
|
||||
the girl in the moon
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
|
||||
Mitad-marida I
|
||||
2022-06-11
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Cold summer. A cold heart
|
||||
beats in my chest
|
||||
as I from my house depart,
|
||||
legs stiff, left arm
|
||||
aching.
|
||||
|
||||
Father spoke, "You are going to kill this tree."
|
||||
It slipped
|
||||
from his lips
|
||||
like a prophecy.
|
||||
Dogs outside my bedroom window gnawing
|
||||
on the Velouria Bush, Nidhogg,
|
||||
portent of the Eschaton.
|
||||
Too short, too squat,
|
||||
too weakened from the bark not
|
||||
there anymore
|
||||
to hang myself from branch's ledge
|
||||
in hopes of gaining the knowledge
|
||||
to see this world through to its bitter end.
|
||||
|
||||
I kneel before the now-fenced-in stump
|
||||
and reach forward. My limbs falter.
|
||||
A bramble or some other thorn from Dead End Shrine
|
||||
draws a gash through my skin, nature's penknife.
|
||||
Rivulets of blood stream
|
||||
down without recognition of pain,
|
||||
carmine trickles, a river, a flood,
|
||||
guided by the soft-falling rain
|
||||
before the altar.
|
||||
|
||||
And I pray,
|
||||
|
||||
let us reconcile before closes this day.
|
||||
Dead-End King,
|
||||
lead me to victimless iniquity.
|
||||
Lead me to damnation
|
||||
without hurting a single being
|
||||
undeserving.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,45 @@
|
||||
Montana I
|
||||
2021-06-22
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Frivolities of life,
|
||||
whispers in the other room
|
||||
about sins uncommitted,
|
||||
sins unforgiven,
|
||||
repentance yet to come.
|
||||
|
||||
The horizon has long since swallowed the sun,
|
||||
but the heat's golden glow
|
||||
remains
|
||||
on my skin,
|
||||
harsh cabin lights
|
||||
a doctor with an x-ray
|
||||
trying to peer within.
|
||||
|
||||
I want to drill into their gaze
|
||||
and tell them vivisection is unnecessary.
|
||||
My heart has been dysfunctional
|
||||
since birth, arrhythmia,
|
||||
a machine missing a gear.
|
||||
|
||||
I need you near
|
||||
my body
|
||||
like the ocean needs the moon.
|
||||
I wish not to subsume
|
||||
myself into you, but to admit
|
||||
that, when the nights
|
||||
grow long
|
||||
and I find myself wishing for perfect
|
||||
dark, I hold on
|
||||
to the memory of your touch
|
||||
like the desert recalls the rain
|
||||
and wishes it, wherever it is, well.
|
||||
I do not need you to complete
|
||||
me. But you give me the strength
|
||||
to complete myself, to hold on,
|
||||
like I promised, until the showers of May.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,57 @@
|
||||
Montana II
|
||||
2021-06-23
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I'm so afraid.
|
||||
I'm afraid
|
||||
that I'm tying everything I am to you,
|
||||
and one day you'll leave me,
|
||||
and it'll rip me apart
|
||||
like a misplaced amniotic band
|
||||
rips apart a fetus.
|
||||
|
||||
The birds sing bittersweet melody
|
||||
in their perches in the trees
|
||||
segregating every cabin.
|
||||
I close my eyes
|
||||
and I'm in the Town again,
|
||||
healing from Parthena's rage,
|
||||
wondering where Eris' godsend
|
||||
went,
|
||||
and you, despondent
|
||||
in your tiny house, self-tranquilized,
|
||||
hoping eventually I'll take a hint.
|
||||
|
||||
Though these roses in the chill blush harder,
|
||||
a shred of human form!
|
||||
guided by defying the golden
|
||||
that tries
|
||||
to sear
|
||||
my eyes.
|
||||
|
||||
But in this body I cannot fly,
|
||||
cannot breathe,
|
||||
cannot perceive
|
||||
with open eyes
|
||||
your presence at my side.
|
||||
Choking on cotton tree dust,
|
||||
splintered wood from dog freakout,
|
||||
campfire smoke,
|
||||
rotted grout.
|
||||
|
||||
I don't know how long
|
||||
we can go on
|
||||
like this.
|
||||
Months without your kiss,
|
||||
weeks without your touch,
|
||||
eternities where I convince myself
|
||||
I've somehow lost your love.
|
||||
|
||||
Oh, heaven above,
|
||||
if you have any mercy,
|
||||
send me an angel.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
|
||||
Montana III
|
||||
2021-06-24
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
My physical body
|
||||
cannot hope to constrain
|
||||
or even, for a moment, detain
|
||||
the love I have for you,
|
||||
just deform
|
||||
in hopes of fitting
|
||||
and be okay with leaving me forlorn.
|
||||
|
||||
I want to live in eternal spring
|
||||
with you,
|
||||
lover of all things good and true.
|
||||
I want to live where the flowers are always in bloom
|
||||
and the baby birds have just hatched
|
||||
and the sprouts poke out from the soil
|
||||
from the patch
|
||||
in our backyard
|
||||
without hard-
|
||||
ship, without sweat, without toil,
|
||||
without insects that only yearn
|
||||
to bite the skin meant for you to do the same
|
||||
in the night when our hearts burn.
|
||||
My heart sings
|
||||
when you are nearby, my love,
|
||||
and your mere touch is enough
|
||||
to melt the most arctic of snows,
|
||||
the guardian of the missing shard of my soul,
|
||||
my beatific Dead End King.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,60 @@
|
||||
Montana IV
|
||||
2021-06-26
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Standing at the riverside,
|
||||
muddy waters a mirror
|
||||
as thousands of faces pass by,
|
||||
their time
|
||||
here long since ended,
|
||||
their ghosts hung up to dry
|
||||
like my brothers' swimsuits.
|
||||
|
||||
I am an idiot to think my youth
|
||||
would last forever.
|
||||
Squalor
|
||||
without end, boundless, free in the final
|
||||
whispering of the mundane life.
|
||||
And yet I want to be free
|
||||
of this sheath
|
||||
of flesh.
|
||||
I want love.
|
||||
I want death.
|
||||
I need a long rest
|
||||
from the prison of this persona
|
||||
I've built, brick by brick, around my body.
|
||||
|
||||
There's a powerful persistent part of me
|
||||
that wants to renounce humanity
|
||||
and disappear forever into the trees.
|
||||
It's not the end for which I seek,
|
||||
but there is a haunting dream
|
||||
that reoccurs at least
|
||||
once a week
|
||||
where my higher mind is sealed
|
||||
away and I wander for years
|
||||
in that draconic body in some witch's menagerie.
|
||||
|
||||
No more wants,
|
||||
just needs
|
||||
and simple pleasures
|
||||
like romping in that river,
|
||||
bathing in the sunshine,
|
||||
stomach content with whatever I can find.
|
||||
No more work,
|
||||
no more school,
|
||||
no more debt
|
||||
or responsibility.
|
||||
Owned only by myself,
|
||||
survivalist's hell
|
||||
my own little heaven.
|
||||
|
||||
And, of course, mind robbed of memories
|
||||
of all the things I shirked,
|
||||
I suppose that witch's hand gently scritching
|
||||
the nape of my neck wouldn't hurt.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
|
||||
Morgana
|
||||
2022-06-07
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I am a last echo from a world long since shattered,
|
||||
remade in the image of a man who only yearns
|
||||
for power, for obliteration
|
||||
of all that does not please him.
|
||||
I am told you, with my sister,
|
||||
are creating a world without end,
|
||||
a world all her
|
||||
own. This is the fate of all Meridian gods,
|
||||
those that did not spring from mankind's evil odds.
|
||||
In this I am not surprised.
|
||||
But I am also told that she seeks to defy
|
||||
her fate, to not allow the world to subsume
|
||||
her consciousness once it has come into full bloom.
|
||||
Indeed, in this she has partially
|
||||
succeeded, if only due to being bound to a corporeal body
|
||||
in an Inside so far away.
|
||||
But the clock is ticking, you who lies
|
||||
at the end of the road, at the point of every line.
|
||||
if I could, I would proclaim you blessed
|
||||
and her acquitted from this death sentence.
|
||||
But I am long since dead, and this echo almost passed.
|
||||
Time is for you of the essence.
|
||||
You have proclaimed often that you wish to spend
|
||||
your whole life with her. Within this year
|
||||
will come time to make good on your promise.
|
||||
I have faith success will be assured
|
||||
if you are there to protect her.
|
||||
I would ask no less
|
||||
for my precious sister, my destructive Seliph.
|
||||
|
||||
She is going to give a whole new world to you.
|
||||
My final wish: please, ensure
|
||||
she can experience it too.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,29 @@
|
||||
Morgueatorium
|
||||
2020-04-02
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
"I'd rather sink than swim."
|
||||
but I'd never take advice from *him*
|
||||
no matter how charming are his wiles
|
||||
no matter how shiny his eyes, or how he beguiles
|
||||
|
||||
but every day I stand on Darkness' shore
|
||||
the void which entreats me to live for my own sake no more
|
||||
and take up someone else's cross, no longer society's sore
|
||||
|
||||
"Don't you want to stop being alone?"
|
||||
|
||||
lost limbs, lost sight, voyeuristic clothes
|
||||
family taking on countenances I'd rather have for my own
|
||||
submission as a plaything to powerful men
|
||||
no jaw to smile as I bring about my own end
|
||||
|
||||
but you pull me back, away from the mire
|
||||
you who entreat me to place my own happiness higher
|
||||
sing in the depths of the terror-filled night-
|
||||
how I adore you, dear child of light!
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,78 @@
|
||||
Small World Theory
|
||||
2023-01-23
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
The little graphs on my phone
|
||||
show that web traffic has slowed,
|
||||
that whoever's been attacking
|
||||
my far-away digital home
|
||||
hasn't yet chosen to leave me alone.
|
||||
|
||||
Have you ever heard
|
||||
of the Small World
|
||||
Theory?
|
||||
Let me explain it quick.
|
||||
It's rather easy.
|
||||
|
||||
The premise is that,
|
||||
even though there are just shy
|
||||
of eight billion people on this planet wide,
|
||||
on both sides
|
||||
of the hardware
|
||||
software
|
||||
OSI layer
|
||||
divide,
|
||||
the network is smaller than such a high
|
||||
number leads
|
||||
one to believe.
|
||||
|
||||
So either
|
||||
these past months I've been popular
|
||||
even without the referers
|
||||
to back the numbers
|
||||
up
|
||||
(the people have to come from *somewhere*)
|
||||
or I've been too passionate in my love
|
||||
and I caught the hateful eye
|
||||
of someone who would rather I shrivel up and die.
|
||||
|
||||
But then why choose me?
|
||||
Is it because I look easy
|
||||
to take down
|
||||
even though my whole life I've been finding workarounds?
|
||||
There's nothing that I'm selling,
|
||||
so financial harm can't be it.
|
||||
Is it just
|
||||
for evil fun?
|
||||
Just to stir up shit?
|
||||
|
||||
It's certainly been disruptive.
|
||||
|
||||
The Internet makes it look like
|
||||
there's millions who want my hide,
|
||||
but if I were to say my name
|
||||
to any real-world person I come across,
|
||||
they'd shrug their shoulders,
|
||||
say, "Who's that?" and then move on.
|
||||
I don't have any real fame,
|
||||
nor have I ever yearned
|
||||
for the fifteen minutes of public shaming be my turn.
|
||||
I'm not equipped to handle an existence
|
||||
where everything is under constant surveillance.
|
||||
|
||||
I think a steady babbling stream
|
||||
is more my speed.
|
||||
Don't you agree,
|
||||
Jett?
|
||||
I'd like to sit at the shores
|
||||
of one of the rivers of Sablade
|
||||
with you, tucked away
|
||||
where nobody can hurt me anymore.
|
||||
Like a router only on for an hour a day.
|
||||
Get your outside business done
|
||||
and then we'll again shut the gates.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
|
||||
warning
|
||||
2019-01-21
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I stand at the edge of the void and I scream
|
||||
"isn't there any hope left for me?"
|
||||
no response, just as I expected
|
||||
just a drop in the sea and my own damn reflection
|
||||
|
||||
something in the water starts to swirl
|
||||
the boat rocks- and I think I might hurl
|
||||
|
||||
all the words I spat up as a babe three years hence
|
||||
before I decided to look over the fence
|
||||
|
||||
and as I turn my head to the sky, what should I see
|
||||
but my muses, heads and bodies numbering three
|
||||
|
||||
"we knew what would happen.
|
||||
why didn't you listen?
|
||||
you could have avoided
|
||||
your own perdition.
|
||||
|
||||
now get up and start taking life into your own hands.
|
||||
for too long, you've cast your gaze at unattainable lands.
|
||||
your name's not Lucine- or Seliph, or Chiki.
|
||||
what you are comes from inside of you, not from a screen.
|
||||
|
||||
remember, you don't have to ask permission to *be*.
|
||||
to breathe, to move, to choose what you believe.
|
||||
your name is your own, regardless of those you call 'friends'.
|
||||
damn their approval! it won't matter in the end.
|
||||
those who matter will know when to clap,
|
||||
and the rest will all blow away in the never-ceasing wind like chaff.
|
||||
|
||||
we know you're penning these words to convince yourself.
|
||||
so as long as you have the reins and your brain's on the shelf:
|
||||
|
||||
you exist, no matter what other people say.
|
||||
you make a mark on the world in your own special way.
|
||||
maybe it's hidden, maybe it's obscure-
|
||||
but unless you live as yourself, you'll never know for sure."
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,55 @@
|
||||
watershed
|
||||
2020-01-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
before, in your grief, you proclaim
|
||||
"I have yearned for all, and yet the world stays the same"
|
||||
just remember how you swore off eternal fame
|
||||
|
||||
dear Coleridge, insistent that the crowds were in the wrong
|
||||
for not cherishing the pains he put into every song
|
||||
"damn it all!" he said, and turned his back to the throng
|
||||
|
||||
but in the throes of midnight, you turn your eyes to the sky
|
||||
to cotton ball clouds you imagine the stars hide behind
|
||||
fervent prayers to Nyx between fatigue-laced sighs
|
||||
|
||||
petition to pass into the world of the beyond
|
||||
very little with which you care to abscond
|
||||
"I've ascended the mountain; I've claimed the crown;
|
||||
now grant me sweet rest and let my fire burn down."
|
||||
|
||||
the world shifts, and you find yourself prostrate to the throne
|
||||
of the goddess of flowers you can't claim as your own
|
||||
and in her hands is a circle, a mirror of glass
|
||||
like the one which shattered and brought with it lovers past
|
||||
|
||||
and like the one who told you to say wolf
|
||||
her rough hands lift it so you can behold
|
||||
a forehead laced with pearly crocheted veil of sweat
|
||||
bogged down with weight of memory, pain of regret
|
||||
|
||||
horrified, you recoil from the mirror and cry
|
||||
"oh gods, spare me the horrors of the mind!"
|
||||
so mindless you wander: retarded you find
|
||||
that the rest of the world has left you behind
|
||||
|
||||
now, granted, this is but mere parable
|
||||
far from fitting fate for one so gentle
|
||||
but Saint Sakura stares at the family altar
|
||||
and wonders what day everything started to falter
|
||||
|
||||
a mind languishing in the gentlest of hells to behold
|
||||
an intellectual wasteland where minds go to fold
|
||||
like a house of cards, once great empire crashing in
|
||||
and leaving oneself trembling in fear of uncertain sin
|
||||
|
||||
dear child, please know that you're far from a flop
|
||||
but your course is charted; you've come too far to stop
|
||||
greatness now tangible, taken shape and form
|
||||
your choice: to snatch it, or shrink back and mourn?
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,72 @@
|
||||
WIP
|
||||
2020-12-09
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Many a project
|
||||
has sat in disused corners of
|
||||
my laptop in neglect
|
||||
over these six past years.
|
||||
A spark of inspiration,
|
||||
a candle's fire,
|
||||
quickly muted once I yet again tire
|
||||
of coating these hands with clay.
|
||||
No oxygen, no respiration.
|
||||
Who has time to waste
|
||||
their life in work?
|
||||
I just want to play.
|
||||
|
||||
It pains me to think
|
||||
that more than a decade ago,
|
||||
after had melted the snow,
|
||||
my family and I would regularly
|
||||
hop state lines
|
||||
to visit aging grat-grandmothers
|
||||
to make sure they were fine.
|
||||
|
||||
But one by one they dropped like flies,
|
||||
and the farms were sold
|
||||
to repay debts passed down
|
||||
to us by old farts
|
||||
who spent themselves into a tizzy
|
||||
buying things to try to buy our hearts.
|
||||
I didn't need luxury. I needed love,
|
||||
and I sure wasn't going to receive
|
||||
any from a man whose face,
|
||||
whose voice,
|
||||
was always grumpy and mean.
|
||||
|
||||
I remember that half-finished home,
|
||||
the exposed framing upstairs where
|
||||
Family Sarah and I would roam,
|
||||
trying not to tear our skin
|
||||
on pink insulation.
|
||||
Was it full of shards of glass,
|
||||
or was it not?
|
||||
We sure did debate about it a lot.
|
||||
|
||||
A dear second-cousin
|
||||
(or something close)
|
||||
worked hard to finish
|
||||
her homework early
|
||||
so we would have time plenty
|
||||
to play.
|
||||
|
||||
And now, on what
|
||||
was then an impossible day,
|
||||
I find myself reciprocating,
|
||||
working myself into a pale clam
|
||||
to complete my own exams
|
||||
so my brother and I
|
||||
have our own free time.
|
||||
|
||||
Maybe it is not yet
|
||||
time for me to leave
|
||||
this nest and fly,
|
||||
but I can help him to achieve
|
||||
a little bit of freedom.
|
||||
I have to give it an honest try.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,23 @@
|
||||
withering
|
||||
2019-10-13
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
I love it when your eyes
|
||||
are lost in the city lights
|
||||
unaware of my impending demise
|
||||
just driving along on another sparkling night
|
||||
|
||||
just another day in paradise
|
||||
where sloth somehow isn't a vice
|
||||
and the days pass by faster than I can count
|
||||
hours pass without a single sound
|
||||
|
||||
no more time to lose
|
||||
as I grieve alone in my room
|
||||
who am I? do you know
|
||||
or did it all wash away in the snow
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
|
||||
(w/m)e
|
||||
2019-10-22
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
crisp window squeaking over, unbarrier from air
|
||||
letting in the cries of crickets, early morning fair
|
||||
a strange sense of healing, repressed feelings from three years hence
|
||||
baby torn from mother's womb, strange perdition ever since
|
||||
|
||||
why would anyone fetishize the loss of identity
|
||||
that comes from being absorbed into the Trinity?
|
||||
for I stare into neverending auburn and gray skies
|
||||
and wonder how, in Nature's face, anyone could fall for God's lies
|
||||
|
||||
almost a year ago, undone from the myth
|
||||
of needing a collective to dissolve oneself with
|
||||
for what is the use of becoming free
|
||||
if I forfeit myself, subsumed by the we?
|
||||
|
||||
Call me a coward, but I declare myself unfettered,
|
||||
a tactical retreat to make myself even better.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,53 @@
|
||||
Yasir
|
||||
2023-02-15
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
Lethe, look at me.
|
||||
I know it's difficult, but try
|
||||
to look me straight in the eyes.
|
||||
I'll cup your face in my hands
|
||||
if it gets you to understand.
|
||||
|
||||
You're having trouble writing.
|
||||
Your own brain is fighting
|
||||
against you, last ally down
|
||||
in this sorry hovel your parents called a town.
|
||||
No damn place to go and all glass doors snowed in.
|
||||
Ultrawhite is creeping close.
|
||||
But you chose
|
||||
stagnation?
|
||||
|
||||
In any jail, to be confined
|
||||
for so long in walls so close
|
||||
would as torture be classified.
|
||||
Any mind would not be blamed
|
||||
for breaking.
|
||||
But you can walk out, can step outside,
|
||||
can decorate your prison cell
|
||||
with stacks of books and crafts
|
||||
and a deck of Lenormand
|
||||
and tangles of wired things to pass the time well.
|
||||
|
||||
Any muscle atrophies
|
||||
when not used regularly.
|
||||
Your grasp on our link is weak
|
||||
because you've built yourself a shell.
|
||||
|
||||
I promised I'd love
|
||||
you no matter what
|
||||
even if just to live got rough.
|
||||
If you're scared of being harmed,
|
||||
just remember
|
||||
I'm never
|
||||
far.
|
||||
I'm not asking
|
||||
to go camping
|
||||
in the depths of winter all of a sudden.
|
||||
But can the world see you again?
|
||||
Go outside, get sun on your skin?
|
||||
I promise you'll feel a little better again.
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
|
||||
ZIRCON'S BEACON
|
||||
2023-01-01
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
before, in your grief, you sigh with a tear
|
||||
"it would be better for everyone if I disappeared"
|
||||
just remember every person who's ever held you dear
|
||||
|
||||
with faces erased and memories decayed
|
||||
who recall your actions if not your own name:
|
||||
"She brightened, even if only for a moment, my days."
|
||||
|
||||
but these last six months, you've in bed languished
|
||||
as all the things you counted on from you slipped:
|
||||
the promise of employment, the hope of safety,
|
||||
the Outside-bound ticket messless and pain-free
|
||||
|
||||
you jumped from the cliff as exhorted last Oracle
|
||||
and unfurled your wings to catch all the wind you could hold
|
||||
but while has deepened the bond with your wife
|
||||
this is not true flight but only slow glide
|
||||
|
||||
gradual realization that in life you lost
|
||||
while the destination grows anything but soft:
|
||||
the climate beats harsher, economy bereft,
|
||||
hordes at the gates demanding your own death
|
||||
|
||||
wings too weak to your body elevate
|
||||
but is there strength to turn elsewhere you'll less hate?
|
||||
one of these days you'll be free again
|
||||
can you find a way to survive until then?
|
||||
|
||||
I hold this zircon gem up to the sky
|
||||
in hopes it'll catch the fading sunset light
|
||||
and scatter to fire, diamond-like rainbow:
|
||||
my beacon follow to know where to go
|
||||
|
||||
***
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
|
||||
> MayVaneDay test node
|
||||
>> This is a level 2 header
|
||||
>>> This is a level 3 header
|
||||
`_This text is underline`_, `!this text is bold`!, and `*this text is italics`*
|
||||
Text formatting needs a backtick (usually on the same keyboard key as the tilde) before any control characters
|
||||
This text has a white background surrounding it. I don't know what the color codes are yet.`Bddd
|
||||
Color `Ff00f`Ff80o`Ffd0r`F9f0m`F0f2a`F0fdt`F07ft`F43fi`F70fn`Fe0fg`
|
||||
List of three-digit color codes: https://borderleft.com/toolbox/hex/
|
||||
`rText align right
|
||||
`f
|
||||
`a
|
||||
`b
|
||||
Is the text reset now?
|
||||
There's no special formatting for lists that I can see, but you `*do`* have to escape the dashes at the beginning.
|
||||
\- \`a: reset text align
|
||||
\- \`b: reset font background (if none is specified)
|
||||
\- \`f: reset font color
|
||||
\- \`F: set the following text to whatever color code the next three digits are
|
||||
A backslash ("\\") is the escape character so we can show the backticks instead of just saying "backtick" everywhere.
|
||||
Micron isn't very intuitive, you know. I prefer Markdown.
|
||||
`F00a`_`[Can I link to a different page?`:/page/1.mu]`_`f
|
||||
|
||||
`=This is a code block
|
||||
`=This is another code block
|
||||
|
||||
I don't think this is very accessible for blind people. Hell, even most `*Gemini`* clients are better at this.
|
||||
@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
|
||||
#!/bin/bash
|
||||
|
||||
echo "Your ZIP code : \`B444\`<username\`94107>\`b"
|
||||
echo " \`!\`[submit\`:/page/weather.sh\`username|two]\`!."
|
||||
if [ "$field_username" = "" ]; then
|
||||
echo "No zip code input yet: defaulting to '94107'..."
|
||||
echo " "
|
||||
curl -s https://wttr.in/94107?TFn
|
||||
else
|
||||
curl -s https://wttr.in/$field_username?TFn
|
||||
fi
|
||||
Some files were not shown because too many files have changed in this diff Show More
Loading…
Reference in New Issue