first commit

poetry/s/sakura.txt

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+Saint Sakura
+2019-10-25
+
+***
+
+the ides of autumn blow fierce yet again
+and I sit here, wondering if this is a sin
+to be here all alone, sitting under the sun
+mind wandering free, beholden to no one
+
+two years hence, before bitter storms came
+I stood, looked out through my window and watched the wind play
+through the branches up above, listened to neighbors and birds chatter
+and when little kids screamed, wondered whatever was the matter
+
+rolling emerald hills where once we both played
+but now, in this life, only I returned to the plains
+only I remained
+
+now, when I rest my head in my arms at the windowsill
+Eponine's passion gone, Erin's resignation lingering still
+my heart beats like a drum at the end of a song
+fading gently into the night
+wondering if maybe, all along, they were right
+
+would they carve out my limbs like the stump on the tree
+and then have the audacity to still ask me
+if I yearned to be free?
+
+the rotting corpse of a bird cloaked in midnight
+an ornament in a fitting golden cage of delight
+deprived of life's blood of work, without amenities tight
+to force a young soul to find meaning in plight
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/sanktulo.txt

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+sanktulo de nuboj
+2020-03-16
+
+***
+
+I could use a light in the dark
+past the dimmest streets between posts
+maybe you should look to your right
+that house is where you used to play host
+
+sneaking out late at night
+to visit friends who soon wouldn't be at all
+do you remember my face? my scars?
+don't worry; the forgetting's mutual
+
+this whole place feels so surreal
+that sometimes I question
+if my childhood was real
+
+and if I don't let go of these rusty playground poles
+they won't hesitate to rip in me a hole
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/school4.txt

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+school-mandated poetry: day 4 / acrostic
+2018-01-09
+
+***
+
+Dead of night, I still lie awake
+Always in search of the last final whispering word
+Never able to satisfy my quench for quotations
+Killing procrastination was never something I was good at
+Must I really go on struggling like this for the sake of a few fleeting
+moments of pleasure?
+Enduring an onslaught of normies and self-proclaimed
+Moral superiors
+Even in spite of this, the memes only grow danker
+Slowly veering closer and closer to the post-ironic zenith
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/school5.txt

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+school-mandated poetry: day 5 / abecedarian
+2018-01-10
+
+***
+
+Anybody is capable of aspiring to
+Become something more, but it is something few
+Captive souls aspire to. Why? Is it this
+Doddering old coot at the steeple with words of
+Enmity? A
+Fear of freedom? The stereotypical image of a nuclear family
+Gaily partaking in a Sunday stroll to the local meadow to picnic?
+Hate is not necessarily a bad thing
+It is a strong emotion, yes, a naturally destructive one
+but Joy can just as easily spring from a reversal, a
+Kind word spoken on a
+Lonely street. A
+Maternal protection. A
+Nauseous copulation between lovers, the
+Open horizon of Sol and Luna constantly
+Pitting one against the other. A
+Queen from a
+Ruddy and trashy neighborhood,
+Slaving through learned dependence and a
+Turmoil of emotions not yet equipped to deal with.
+Unless I escape this golden-gilded cage, I will suffocate under a
+mirror reflection of
+misplaced Vanity and
+Worthlessness
+
+something something something
+XYZ
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/school6.txt

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+school-mandated poetry: day 6 / terza rima
+2018-01-11
+
+***
+
+a pair of mismatched boots
+and hair the color of an almost-dead sky
+and eyes far kinder than any garden's shoots
+
+he said his name was Xander LaTye
+but I think we both know that piece of news is fake
+but that secret, to keep, is his and mine
+
+a level of floating platforms of concrete; in his hand a rake
+across the abyss, a train station back to the waking world
+and in his eyes, a fear that I would forsake
+
+"Say wolf," he said, "to make the platform whirl.
+Don't worry about me. I'm sure we'll meet anew."
+and I felt both his and my fingers curl
+
+and together we jumped through
+but he disappeared somewhere along the way
+and I woke up without him too
+
+when asked to describe him to the police, I wanted to say
+that his fingernails were diamonds in the rough
+and if I ever saw them again, just one more time, I'd be okay
+
+and then, several years later, when I'd grown more tough
+we met again in the lap area of the old community center pool
+and "one more time" suddenly wasn't- wouldn't ever be- enough
+
+his limbs splayed out, cheeks puffy with held-in air, water cool
+the sharp slope of the deep end crystal-clear in the water far too
+chilly
+and suddenly I realized that my hope was the mark of a fool
+
+so I kicked to the surface, goosebumps frilly
+legs spasming to be anywhere but that horrid twelve-foot deep end
+and I resolved again to never be so silly
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/school7.txt

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+school-mandated poetry: day 7 / triplet
+2018-01-12
+
+***
+
+it's been twenty-four hours since you fell into my house hard
+apparently my parents haven't noticed you so far
+your footsteps are softer than when I try to open this jar
+
+drooping dingy dark wings like a weeping willow tree, I see
+at a loss for words when morning breath brushes my cheek softly
+a ragged shirt hanging off a terse frame isn't what I need
+
+but the dirty shower doesn't work in the bathroom downstairs
+and my parents haven't asked about the onslaught of hairs
+did you spend all day downstairs in that bathroom, cooped up in there?
+
+a pile of ragged ebony feathers shed in the night
+illuminated on the floor by the fading morning light
+and I suddenly realized why I should never trust my sight
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/school8.txt

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+school-mandated poetry: day 8 / ballad
+2018-01-13
+
+***
+
+waiting under a forever blue sky
+watching as all the younger girls scream "bye"
+I would say "wish you here here"
+but there are no postcards for sale
+
+a silver wire to soon be around my finger
+and the impression of your face against the summer clouds still lingers
+the ancient question begs, "are you mine?
+or is this all a lie?"
+
+only purple is a unit here
+not pink, which has dissolved into the blue clear
+due to a lack of interest- and my shorts are gray
+but they don't have to be shorts- they can just be gray
+
+so say hello to your new lover for me
+because by the time I get home tomorrow, I'm sure I'll see
+that my home is empty
+and my room full of crumpled sheets
+
+the wedding tonight has been cancelled
+one of the brides has been locked up in the sickest cell
+you have twelve hours to make up your mind
+she loves me, she loves me not- no end in sight
+
+so now I'm splayed out on the jaded grass lawn
+the stars are so lucky- there's always someone out there to fawn
+they say that outdoors, food tastes a hell of a lot better
+but then why is my stomach churning like the far-off weather?
+
+little did I know, hence two years
+I would be shedding tears
+but of joy or fear, I cannot tell
+I'm not a fortune teller or horoscope writer; I'm not here to sell
+
+why does the sky have to be blue?
+why not gray to reflect a burgeoning city's soot
+or green like all the other damn trees here
+just more trees everywhere
+trees
+trees
+and more trees
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/sedation-in-alliteration.txt

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+Sedation In Alliteration
+2021-01-21
+
+***
+
+Dilly decided that I must die
+and when I waited for a why
+she simply sighed
+
+Terry trapised onto the stage
+his rifle filled with sudden rage
+towards my rib cage
+
+Mary might be making me mad
+by destroying the diamonds dyad
+given to me by my great-grandad...
+
+regardless of the rain,
+my soul will simply
+go on.
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/seris.txt

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+Seris
+2020-11-22
+
+***
+
+embittered by sadness
+emboldened by hope
+one more day, you deny
+the allure of the rope
+
+the promise of a world
+not far from your hands
+three inches to winter
+not hidden in distant lands
+
+but the clock is ticking
+and the walls are pressing in
+
+and you do nothing.
+
+you just swallow the pain.
+
+while the number in your bank account
+climbs ever higher
+it's never enough
+to rekindle passion's fire
+
+he scalpels out your heart
+and leaves in its wake a void
+and replaces your joints
+with hinges from toys
+
+and parades you around
+on fraying black strings
+and wonders why you no longer
+have the capacity to sing
+
+with porcelain flesh
+underneath frilly clothes
+he puppets you around
+while your organs drown in prose
+
+your mind is wandering
+with black holes enthralled:
+life from this point is
+not living at all
+
+you resolve that, if you are truly doomed
+to live life in constant hollow war:
+you'll farm from the anguish, hopelessless, gloom
+in the respite between arguments, interruptions, chores
+
+barren land you may be
+but harvest you must
+the words the last thing
+of yours you can trust
+
+the words bubble up
+from the depths of your throat
+so fast you fear
+you'll start to choke
+
+hold them within
+right next to your heart
+write it on your skin
+lest it tear you apart
+
+and shatter the puppet
+your jailer of you has made
+allowing the dreams
+you've incubated to fade
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/serpenton.txt

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+serpenton
+2016-12-05
+
+***
+
+your scarf is a snake
+wrapping around your throat
+delivering a simple message from me
+knit into the strands for all to see
+
+"run"
+
+are you ready to cross the divide?
+your key doesn't fit this doorknob
+shed your skin and step into the chilly air
+with soft skin and a brand new heart
+
+do you wish you were a watch
+so that when your core breaks
+you could just go into a repair shop and get some replacements?
+but then I'd have to wind you up every day
+
+and if there's one thing I'm really good at
+it's getting people angry
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/skin.txt

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+skin
+2018-08-29
+
+***
+
+I want to tear myself out of my skin
+and paint a pretty picture with the pieces
+stretched out like canvas
+like the last vestiges of my patience
+
+I want to escape this skin
+and remake myself as something beautiful
+something ethereal
+incomprehensible to this world
+
+but instead I'm stuck here
+along the filth and squalor
+breaking my back for someone else's profit
+expendable at the drop of a hat
+
+and there are ghosts hanging in the halls
+not from nooses, but from hooks meant for picture frames
+a portrait of every person I'd be leaving behind
+
+but would it really be leaving them behind?
+after all, it was mere chance that our paths crossed
+and would any of them come to my aid in case of an emergency
+I know I don't have any money to spare (thanks, college)
+so I doubt they would have any either
+
+like I said, mere ghosts
+shadows of people that exist somewhere out there in the real world
+but, most likely, far different from their bodies
+utterly disconnected
+
+I want to tear myself out of my skin
+and rearrange all the pieces into a mosaic
+that shows who I am inside
+or, I should say, who I want to be
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/sleepover2011.txt

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+Sleepover 2011
+2020-12-14
+
+***
+
+her backyard was a battle field
+where she taught me how to wield
+a million weapons, imaginary, unseen,
+on the violent stage of a trampoline
+
+donning goggles, head dunked in a pail,
+barely enough time to hold my breath
+as I gazed around, lungs jumping,
+body convinced of imminent death
+
+the carpet of that living room
+was a boundless field, like on that long-ago childhood day
+long before we had met, Father and I at the trainfield,
+I threatening to run away
+
+infinite possibilities
+in the absence of the sun,
+trying to sleep in a forgotten corner
+or playing games, voices softer than a soft hum
+
+all the challenge, the excitement,
+in managing to avoid
+the wrath of her parents,
+lest they burst a hemorrhoid
+
+I buried myself in galaxies,
+I danced among the stars,
+although, since it was *her* game cartridge,
+I never got very far
+
+come the next morning, at home,
+I'd collapse and sleep far past noon
+in wait for the next time
+I could wave hi at the moon
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/somnolence.txt

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+Somnolence
+2020-10-25
+
+***
+
+to be a young child again, forced outside
+in a bare backyard with nowhere to hide
+and scrape the ground's skin, past Gaia with wiles
+and dead skin cells that we shape into piles
+
+the sky far above is baby powder blue
+neighbor to gray, somnolent hue
+the blanket draped over a loop of time
+sheer thin veil between me and divine
+
+moon like an eye that I hold in my palms
+Nyx's guidance, a past world in the calm
+watching the branches rake past Selene's glow
+as above, truly, shall it be below
+
+this is the weather that speaks to my soul,
+that comes with sharp needle to stitch shut the hole
+and I bite wooden block, half-empty spirit glass,
+and remind myself that this too shall pass
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/strange-proposal.txt

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+A Strange Proposal
+2021-07-07
+
+***
+
+How do you talk someone out of a self-destructive dream?
+How do you convince the one you love that it seems
+that, even though they have your love, you know they walk the line
+between life and death and, come misstep, will perish before their time?
+
+I have convictions too,
+but they're not very strong.
+I'm a tree.
+Firmly taken root,
+swaying
+as the wind pleases
+yet never breaking
+in my base belief
+that, even though it all, I don't want to cease
+but instead find a quiet place
+guaranteed to bring me wherever-needed peace.
+
+I don't want you to lift your head,
+bloodied, war-torn,
+and choose oblivion over admitting defeat.
+
+I want you to create a world with me.
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/strawberry.txt

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+Strawberry Pound Cake
+2021-07-18
+
+***
+
+I want a love that's easy,
+that's light, that requires
+no rationalization,
+no purgation
+of words,
+no listing of boons to be heard.
+I yearn
+to see your face, and when I do,
+I want to feel boom in the ocean
+of my chest,
+*She is the only one.
+She is the only moon
+in this starry sky.*
+
+For there are so many other women
+I could try
+to get together with,
+a wink, flirt,
+accidental compliment blurt-
+ed out in the checkout aisle.
+But I cannot help but see,
+having been burned
+so many times, a list of benefits to me
+instead of each walking ash-hewn corpse.
+
+But all these pages are empty,
+notebook spine unbound.
+I don't want a political alliance.
+I want a woman, raspy, hoarse
+with trembling lungs,
+every breath the sound
+of the crashing ocean waves.
+I want a woman who comes undone
+under my touch
+not because of my deeds,
+not because of my works,
+but because it would take
+a mountain's worth
+of effort to restrain
+her brain's reward system
+going wild as an ape.
+
+Eris built me
+to be
+a solitary
+creature,
+and yet I find
+we've developed a dependence
+on each other.
+It's the simple truth:
+*I like me when I'm with you.*
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander

poetry/s/sweet-summer.txt

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+Sweet Summer
+2020-12-16
+
+***
+
+your dress flaps in the wind like a honeysuckle breeze,
+reminding me of long since devoured butterscotch dreams
+with your sapphire eyes upturned to the sky
+and summer's hazy love on your mind
+
+your smile is like the finest wine,
+an intoxication that I wouldn't mind wandering in,
+but my heart would give out if in wonder for too long
+and even the brightest flowers fade after a while
+
+the warmth of your skin,
+the sweet scent of your hair,
+all entreat me to spend a while there.
+but the tornado comes, uninvited, and tears up the earth
+and I wish it was summer again on this desolate earth
+
+***
+
+CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander