2024-01-04

poetry/e/eager_job.txt

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+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

poetry/e/earthbound.txt

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+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

poetry/e/edell.txt

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+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

poetry/e/end.txt

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+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