New poem: Mitad-marida I
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# MayVaneDay ASS (https://tilde.town/~dzwdz/ass/) feed
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2022-06-11 http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/m/mitad1.txt Mitad-marida I
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2022-06-09 http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/june/purity.html Purity Spiral
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2022-06-07 http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/m/morgana.txt Morgana
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2022-06-05 http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/h/hotdog.txt hotdog
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<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
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</author>
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<entry>
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<title>Mitad-marida I</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/m/mitad1.txt" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/m/mitad1.txt</id>
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<published>2022-06-11</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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Cold summer. A cold heart
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beats in my chest
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as I from my house depart,
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legs stiff, left arm
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aching.
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Father spoke, "You are going to kill this tree."
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It slipped
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from his lips
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like a prophecy.
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Dogs outside my bedroom window gnawing
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on the Velouria Bush, Nidhogg,
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portent of the Eschaton.
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Too short, too squat,
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too weakened from the bark not
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there anymore
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to hang myself from branch's ledge
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in hopes of gaining the knowledge
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to see this world through to its bitter end.
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I kneel before the now-fenced-in stump
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and reach forward. My limbs falter.
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A bramble or some other thorn from Dead End Shrine
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draws a gash through my skin, nature's penknife.
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Rivulets of blood stream
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down without recognition of pain,
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carmine trickles, a river, a flood,
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guided by the soft-falling rain
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before the altar.
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And I pray,
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let us reconcile before closes this day.
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Dead-End King,
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lead me to victimless iniquity.
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Lead me to damnation
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without hurting a single being
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undeserving.
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>Purity Spiral</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/june/purity.html" />
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>YOU NEED TO KNOW</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt</id>
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<published>2022-06-01</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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I wish it had been a bridal night
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instead of a boring nosebleed,
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standing over my great-grandma's sink
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at three in the morning.
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That it had been you taking my breath away
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and not clots in my nostrils, down the drain
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as if the rivers sent to confirm
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I would not give birth
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that cycle had gotten lost.
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The shed blood and tears,
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the countless years
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spent in breathless wait
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in order to be there
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on that belated
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celebrated
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day.
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You in a dress in my favorite hue
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and mine you had yourself made.
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To finally see the love I could not hide
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within my body reflected in your eyes
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without fear of a glamour or being a disguise.
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You've been so patient with me all my life,
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and it's a damn miracle that you still insist
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on spending the rest of yours at my side.
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But this is how it's supposed to go, right?
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You're supposed to marry your best friend,
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who knows you like they know themselves,
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who will tolerate you at worst until the bitter end.
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And I,
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I must confide,
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can think of no one else I'd
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rather spend my life
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with.
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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</feed>
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## M
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=> m/melia.txt Melia
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=> m/messymessy.txt messymessy
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=> m/mitad1.txt Mitad-marida I
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=> m/montana1.txt Montana I
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=> m/montana2.txt Montana II
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=> m/montana3.txt Montana III
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@ -87,6 +87,7 @@ iL
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iM
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0Melia m/melia.txt
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0messymessy m/messymessy.txt
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0Mitad-marida I m/mitad1.txt
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0Montana I m/montana1.txt
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0Montana II m/montana2.txt
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0Montana III m/montana3.txt
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├── <a href="./m/">m</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./m/melia.txt">melia.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./m/messymessy.txt">messymessy.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./m/mitad1.txt">mitad1.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./m/montana1.txt">montana1.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./m/montana2.txt">montana2.txt</a><br>
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│ ├── <a href="./m/montana3.txt">montana3.txt</a><br>
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└── <a href="./y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt">YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt</a><br>
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<br><br><p>
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23 directories, 134 files
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23 directories, 135 files
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</p>
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<hr>
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47
poetry/m/mitad1.txt
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Mitad-marida I
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2022-06-11
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***
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Cold summer. A cold heart
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beats in my chest
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as I from my house depart,
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legs stiff, left arm
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aching.
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Father spoke, "You are going to kill this tree."
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It slipped
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from his lips
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like a prophecy.
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Dogs outside my bedroom window gnawing
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on the Velouria Bush, Nidhogg,
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portent of the Eschaton.
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Too short, too squat,
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too weakened from the bark not
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there anymore
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to hang myself from branch's ledge
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in hopes of gaining the knowledge
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to see this world through to its bitter end.
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I kneel before the now-fenced-in stump
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and reach forward. My limbs falter.
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A bramble or some other thorn from Dead End Shrine
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draws a gash through my skin, nature's penknife.
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Rivulets of blood stream
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down without recognition of pain,
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carmine trickles, a river, a flood,
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guided by the soft-falling rain
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before the altar.
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And I pray,
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let us reconcile before closes this day.
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Dead-End King,
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lead me to victimless iniquity.
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Lead me to damnation
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without hurting a single being
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undeserving.
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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