Warrior
I stuttered, was shy
Loving solitude, I dive
into depths. Soaring!
Exponential Function
meta – hebrew for dead, the clickbait articles gleefully inform us,
waiting for something to bite.
מֵת – harder to G–gle the real word, to learn.
The second home, the screen, slowly turning into a tomb,
and even the colors of the world seems to grey – dark mode
and simple opacity tricks to brute-force 3D through astigmatism.
It’s hard to think about anything else
when it’s everything we do – we were too addicted to notice.
It robs our ability to speak.
One apocalypse to pick of many.
There’s no lack of them.
And they’re all on display on the doomscroll.
As a wise man once said, “the world is a vampire.”
Laughter
With every mention of your name
I force back the grin that my heart won’t contain
Swear my heart skips a few beats then speeds in an unhealthy way
I hear you singing that Jackson Five song
Just look over your shoulder baby
I look over
Retract my neck stuff my face on my breast
Chuckle and heh heh under my breath
I know you’ll be here
A merry heart does good like medicine is what the King James proverbs have to say
If this love is contains more than one joyful l word
I’m grinning over my shoulder everyday
Life Expedition
Send me on a journey
to nowhere,
a one-way ticket
out of here.
Home I carry with me,
so it doesn’t matter if I return.
Coming back this way
might be more painful than the leaving.
Knowing not where the path
will take me,
seeking new adventure ahead,
finding fresh roads to walk
can heal a tired and wounded soul.
Time travels with me,
leaving behind distant memories.
Shelter can be found in unexpected places,
where discovered doors
open worlds of possibility,
and welcome a weary wanderer.
The Final Girl Hour 14
The Final Girl (Valkyrie)
Ultimate survivor in wait,
Her life force comes from deep within,
Triggered when threatened, hearing cries,
She develops a thicker skin.
Ultimate survivor in wait,
Entombed in cabin, observing,
Her quick brain constantly working,
Never taking the offered bait,
Innocence, a repellent trait,
Detached from her peers without sin,
Counting the deaths as they roll in,
Standing strong, everyone dies,
Espying Dyer-Bolique’s lies,
And plotting to save her own skin.
Her life force comes from deepest fate,
To suffer whatever we bring,
But I am skilled at surviving,
Pitied for my mechanic gate,
She assumes he forced me to date,
Night blinded from my bleak killing,
She offers some kind assisting,
To save me from master of flies,
A master I cannot despise,
She follows my painful limping.
Triggered when threatened by night’s fate,
I suggest until dawn, hiding,
She acquiesces, abiding,
Breathing heavy, fear, I relate,
Trusting me, a trait too innate,
Closing her eyes, quick slumbering,
Resting her head, now lumbering,
In the garden shed we disguise,
I carefully plan her demise,
Secateurs ready for cleaving.
Ultimate survivor in wait,
I develop a thicker skin,
A strange noise draws her from hiding,
Alone, confused, mind in a state,
She marches heedlessly to fate,
Behind her I stride, lumbering,
Secateurs assist bleak killing,
From back of neck comes the surprise,
Three poor clips, and Final Girl dies,
Painful demise, encumbering.
Buzzy, Citizen of Maui–Hour 13
Brother boy, that ain’t just rain
Not here on Maui
I got the deal here, that’s my refrain
I don’t lie to none of Jesus’ friends
gift of the gods I tell ya
and we drink to no ends
comes from the sky
the mountains too
‘Tis excitable water make the sky sing blue
and lights up the heavens
with color galore
evidence abounds and I’ll tell you more
but here’s the secret
‘case you ain’t guessed
rain is Rainbow Juice Ha!
and we like it best
Maui No Ka Oi, Buzzy
Hour 10 Prompt: The Love Affair Between My Cat and My Laptop
I believe my cat has been having an affair with my laptop
She pretends to be disinterested, but I know better
That it is no coincidence when she walks across my keys while I type
If I leave my office without closing my computer
She will surely be stretched out on my keyboard
Getting kitty acupressure
And the purring caress of the motor.
If I leave the office door open, I fear they…
My cat and my laptop…might elope.
Love in Laundry: Hour 8- Prompt 8, 2022 (Gigan)
On a monsoon’s sunday morning
I woke up realising I have got laundry to do.
Piled up clothes, sitting on a chair, depressed?
As if they’re mocking me,
with a shirt’s sleeve crumpled hiding the buttons.
Exact the way I hide my conscience,
it is minimal but impactful.
Wish we had some sort of detergent too
for monthly- (ah? A month? Nope) weekly healing.
We all deserve fluidic companions,
on a sunday morning.
To hide our consciences,
their presence is like a scoop of liquid detergent,
all set to wash away our temporary worries.
I woke up seeing drenched funeral clothes
Why did you leave so soon, my mate?
2022 Poem Six
A list of things that fit on our king sized bed with us on it:
Two cats; a dozen sweatshirts; a sense of belonging I have never felt before in my life; one-eighth of our polycule; three stuffies the size of a toddler; getting lost in the creamy coffee color of your eyes; one wedge pillow; a phone for every person on the bed; a sloth stuffy that is also a heating pad; whatever the opposite of being in the closet is; an actual heating pad; 2 wrist braces that should be on my wrist but aren’t; the molecular space that is all that separates our bodies; a king sized, chunky knit blanket; four other, smaller blankets of various soft materials; an existence that is inherently a protest; and a well worn body pillow