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awgarwe · 9 months ago

Text

a prose poem

we stepotrect gallant in stony sea gelar gebeen gelanternseen die rapannie lepera soot gentennie laparie unfool and so retakes the wunkeff soul and so be happanie foroll.

ein ga el nit en parte du vill sie el maidchen en der mar un darli sweety sin regre - remember ich und day in apperie die madchen leyer in mi lap in kissen wie er her. wie leh. wie leh. die maid sind gone.

zu redden her su redden eye sulif eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-

the witxh sea luck upon it dingdf deindg-

a complex language i don’t speak... let’s translate it. i already have a few words down- maybe some gravel. gravel. what? it was something else. grammer.grammar.geeeeeeee

right, so grammar. i have a little down.

geh means “go”. this is the most common/accepted spelling by the unification league. they specialize in fascistic “forced” integration. I’m just a linguist, but I have to say... they make things less complicated, in a way. less complicated but more obscure. i don’t know, you give some you lose some. take some you lose some. i don’t know.

geh can also be spelled as ga, gei, and so on. i have heard of it being spelled ger, gehh, gea, geah, and, here’s the kicker - the pronunciation changes too. it could be “gay” or “geh” or “gaya” or “guh”- it all depends. pretty much everyone has their own way of saying things.

but there are groupings, i’ve noticed. latin, germanic, modern english, even russian. chinese, portuguese - the list goes on. this is the scariest language I have ever encountered. it’s also... wriggly. all so. sorry. i’m still the grasp of english. still getting. fuck.

should I just give up? i’m thinking of leaving the whole thing behind, to be honest. I don’t know why the people in my head speak this fuckin made up language i don’t know why I have to deal with this mess

where was i. ge- is a prefix that means “in the past”, but it’s only seen in the german provinces.

fuck why does my native language have to be a language literally no one speaks . what the fuck. literally what the fuck. jesus

i’m tired of writing this why am i writing this can someone help me stop i’m tired

fuck it i’m just gonna put the laptop down. i don’t care. i’m gonna put it down. gonna save the file.

------- this doc sits on my desktop and i don’t know what it is. a memoir? an ethnography? i don’t know. i don’t know anything. all i did know i have forgotten. all i do know i will forget. probably. what do i know?

--what am i writing about and more importantly why am i writing?

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who is this knight they speak of? i have gathered that steptocret is a knight. we are told he has a lance and a horse - a helmet and a breastplate - he is grim but unstoppable - he strikes down and yet he cherishes. we don’t know. we have not seen him very long. if we were to speak of his deeds, the heroic ones, it would be the saving of the damsel. she that wears white hair and white robes and smiles sweetly like a plum she dances with the stars and he protected her with his spirit before either was even born . steptocret is a knight with large palms and he carries in them apples and pears- much stolen harvest. he feeds her and she proclaims that these are the sweetest fruits round. juice falls down her chin and down her dress, watermelon juice red and sticky. as she kisses him she passes a black seed with her tongue and plants it in his stomach. this is the seed that goes by many names: pride affection and greed. she will capture all of them. stepotrect will be weak because of her. “i live to swallow, my lady” he says, and that is that.

let us pass now to the village and the children that lived there. mac and mactress they were called. with curly brown hair and rudden faces, they approached the knight when he passed by their dwelling place and glances up at the shining armor, bright as a star. “why dost thou pass throu here oh night” they askt. and smack them with an armor claden palm he did. “ask me not where i go” he said. “ask me not where i stay. for the demons that follow are not much kinder than you, and eat my soul they will with no hesitation. i hold onto it barely with scraping fingers.” he was cruel. he released his soul, white tattered tapestry flowing through his fingers and he knew that he deserved it not. he did not know how he would seek the lady now, and he did not care to know.

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deep in the moat lives a creature, full of hate and guragoi is his name. he glugs and chortles, throat full of water. slurped he did the soul from the ground, taking it into his belly. it was then that stepotrect new true fear for the first time.

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let me wind back and try to decipher. i still don’t understand the significance of the knight or all these other characters. i mean, the knight, he’s there, i got that. he’s chasing his soul, or maybe he’s given up at this point. the soul is connected to the lady, to help him save her, or something. i don’t know much about this lady- hold on- i’m getting a call.

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she sits under the deck at her childhood home. there’s a small picnic bench, made out of blue plastic and just for her. she’s eating watermelon. she’s kissing god. god the father. stepotrect watches. he always watches. he vows to kill the father. the princess, irene, watches her father’s lips, soft and round and red, covered with bristles like a shoe shining brush. stepotrect vows to kill. he holds the pommel of his sword, cold steel against his sweaty hand smelling like copper. he holds the ball of fire in his hand smith n wesson he’s going to going to

you don’t want to do that put it down. katen’ka. nu shto ty. davai, davai pogovorim snachala. let us talk. let us first talk.

the knight hangs his head. the tree calls him. the princess will not be his.

try again.

#poem #original poem #poems on tumblr

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