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New poem: Clocktower Blitz

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Lethe Beltane 2022-04-06 17:52:57 -05:00
parent dc71b39dec
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GPG key ID: 21A3DA3DE29CB63C
6 changed files with 120 additions and 65 deletions
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20
books/README.asc.txt
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@ -13,17 +13,17 @@ e4006c3f1c26e38a645da116ce2770e3 mm_tac.epub
2bacb0cc9ddf0e5ac6a8900e0aa9659c mm_tpf.epub
bff06d4671b3543128ee06645fd6acd9 tdom.epub
d1d8ce55deebef3fba7000fc2a46639c tsf.epub
56b0a99e2c63fadd3badfa9b5b035460 tvsc.epub
2db09e80effb9a0781b351bd1446e19c tvsc.epub
cbac3b59516ab2ec5cf008a9a9ecd471 twlf.epub
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feed.xml
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@ -10,6 +10,61 @@
<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
</author>
<entry>
<title>Clocktower Blitz</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/c/clocktower.txt" />
<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/c/clocktower.txt</id>
<published>2022-04-06</published>
<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
<pre>
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."
</pre>
</article>]]>
</summary>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>Stealing Time</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/s/stealing-time.txt" />
@ -261,59 +316,6 @@ I, bond-breaking blade?
and in so many worlds away.
There are enough armchair Christs.
Stop self-inflicting pain.*
</pre>
</article>]]>
</summary>
</entry>
<entry>
<title>Driven To Death</title>
<link href="https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/d/driven.txt" />
<id>https://mayvaneday.org/poetry/d/driven.txt</id>
<published>2022-03-09</published>
<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
<pre>
"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.
</pre>
</article>]]>
</summary>

2
index.html
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@ -36,7 +36,7 @@
</div>
<hr>
<div class="box">
<h3>Announcement Box</h3>
<h3>Announcement Box</h3><!-- https://stackoverflow.com/questions/57907979/javascript-shuffle-table-rows -->
<ul>
<li>2022-03-10: <div class="lesbian">Hello, Kiwi Farms!</div> I'm glad you like Let's Decentralize! Please leave me alone.</li>
<li>2022-02-14: <div class="lesbian">YEEHAW! I MADE SOME MODS!! <a class="bruh" href="https://deadendshrine.online/mods/">[LOOK AT THEM]</a></div></li>

52
poetry/c/clocktower.txt Normal file
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@ -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

3
poetry/index.html
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@ -41,6 +41,7 @@
├── <a href="./c/">c</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./c/carmine.txt">carmine.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./c/choco.txt">choco.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./c/clocktower.txt">clocktower.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./c/comer-beber.txt">comer-beber.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./c/confectionery-contempt.txt">confectionery-contempt.txt</a><br>
│   ├── <a href="./c/corner-witch-2.txt">corner-witch-2.txt</a><br>
@ -170,7 +171,7 @@
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; └── <a href="./w/wme.txt">wme.txt</a><br>
<br><br><p>
22 directories, 120 files
22 directories, 121 files
</p>
<hr>