rand0mpandax3

[rand0mpandax3]

this poem has three characters, the caged, the and onlooker, and the warden.

the canary, the falcon, and the sparrow: (bird, so confusing /j)

a bird in a gilded cage,

backed into a corner by a cat.

the loss of the wind,

the loss of my wings,

I yearn for a single breeze.

I miss it.

I want to catch my breath,

to have my talons grasp the ground,

my beak above the tide just this once.

to be swept up into the tempest for just a moment.

my feathers fall, my wings clipped.

those don't grow back.

a fate forever etched into my hollow bones.

oh, avian, harbinger of spring,

with no place to roost.

a canary in a coal mine.

a bird without its wings's just a grotesque rat, afterall

you wish for your claws to finally meet a piece of driftwood,

a respite from the relentless tide,

yet you are shackled down to it.

curiosity killed the cat, they say.

if I let the door to your cage hang ajar,

you will fly away.

I cannot let that happen.

so I will clip your wings and fangs,

and keep you chained to your nest.

I must keep you locked up,

for your own good.

I give you my word, my dearest,

that I will keep you safe if it kills you.

[rand0mpandax3]

I've always thought that the word "widower" (referring to a man who's wife has died) always sounded like someone who made people widows, I.E who killed their husbands.

...so because i couldn't write a book, I wrote a story poem (idk what it's called) about it!

TW: description of gore, murder, and suicide

the widower:

1: ballad of relief, pt. 1

one day I couldn't take it anymore.

one day I stopped caring,

caring about your feelings, your house, your needs, all your abuse I bore.

one day it was all too much.

one day I held a knife in my hand,

and I am no butcher,

but I brought it to your throat,

oh it was beautiful,

as a gush of red sputtered out,

2: ballad of consent

one night you couldn't handle it,

one night you were ranting to me all about him,

how he treated you like you were a nitwit.

I simply supposed a solution,

and you reluctantly agreed,

that he needed the venom, the prosecution.

so one day I brought a knife,

into the walls of your house.

you sold him down the river, to keep it concise.

you finally saw past the veneer.

I stabbed him in his back, right down his spine.

I left the knife as a souvenir.

3: ballad of the insane

one day I heard shouting,

as a couple was walking past.

I could tell he was giving you a beating.

I could tell you couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't help but think of freeing you,

thinking of all the thoughts I couldn't ignore.

so one day, I broke into my very first house.

from your drawer I took your knife.

I snuck up behind him and stung, quiet as a mouse.

I took the knife with me this time.

I wanted to start a collection,

of all these graves that would soon be mine.

4: ballad of the innocent

one day I heard on the news,

that someone had been on a killing spree

three more seats left open in the pews.

they came to my house, questioned me,

asked me where I was, who I was with,

the officers believed me, but had one more query:

what happened to Mr. Smith?

I kept quiet, my lips were sealed,

I acted all innocent

even though I knew that they all could never be healed.

5: ballad of the inane

one day my neighbors, they were being so loud.

shouting and fighting, I couldn't take it anymore.

so I crept into their house, and in the kitchen a knife was found.

in the middle of their argument, I interrupted,

I pierced him right between his lungs,

he started coughing, his airway now obstructed.

he fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

she thanked me, for all I had done.

his lifeless body lying still on the floor, mind now inane.

6: ballad of the widower

one day I heard people talking about my deeds online,

some agreed, and some felt anger.

my actions with them just didn't align.

there was something they agreed upon,

one thing in total,

that I needed a name, so they looked in a lexicon.

when the conflict for the day was over,

they had dubbed me a name:

The Widower.

7: ballad of restraint

one day I couldn't deal with it for any longer

one day I had to quench my thirst.

I ran to a house, I couldn't have this feeling linger

I broke through the window, and a knife I stole.

I walked in already covered in red.

through the house I took a stroll,

down the hallway, to the master bedroom

they were both sleeping, nice and warm.

I made an incision, and sent him to his tomb.

I took the knife with me,

dropped it on the floor of my very own kitchen.

I can't believe what I let myself be.

8: ballad of relief, pt. 2

one day I couldn't bear it for a day more.

I feel myself slip away, more and more each day

all because of the abuse I once bore.

so I took a knife, and held it tight.

my hand was shaking, and so was my heart.

I thought to myself that this must be right.

I punctured my heart, pushed it right into my chest.

the ruby blood poured out,

this was surely for the best.

and when I fell to the ground, my head was struck.

and right before I died I thought:

"I am finally free, for evermore I am no longer stuck"

[rand0mpandax3]

I... faint a lot. so I wrote a poem about the feeling of it!

this is also weird of me but I've often found a lot of comfort in the feeling of vertigo and shit like that. idk.

drop:

ringing in my ears, pounding in my chest,

palpitation at a stiff rate,

my vision goes blurry, my ears' knell pursues

I am stuck in stone, the world seems transparently less ornate

a vignette spreads across my vision,

my core reverberates, my body feels drowsy,

I move around this world with zero precision,

my brain feels damp and cloudy

and my ears just keep ringing,

vehement and heavy, it's all I hear

the world has a razor-sharp veneer,

snowflakes in my sight, each and all stinging

I fall to the floor, with a piercing echo,

it resonates deep in my soul,

my lucidity above me, leaves me shallow,

and as myself and I become unwhole,

all I can hear is a far ringing in my ears

[rand0mpandax3]

didn't actually write this one about anyone I know, sadly.

it's about trying not to get trapped in love, and I wrote it a few months back, probably in November or something.

seaside:

everywhere i walk, i grasp onto her ghost

I'm just sitting out on the coast,

waiting for a moment to regain control,

to feel the waves, so I go take a stroll,

I wade through the beach, there are no tadpoles,

there's no life to be seen,

the tendrils grabbed all the souls.

all of it drained, all of the life marine

and the tide swept away all the creatures,

all the kelp washed, since the shoreline was high,

and for this there is no procedure,

for my own safety, I try to stay dry

my efforts are unfruitful,

my footsteps triggering the colossus,

the tentacles swiping my at feet are not unusal,

the depth not allowing me to have catharsis,

and they clasp around my legs,

they feel slick and they feel eerie, and pull me tight,

drag me to the ocean, my heart but a dreg,

i writhe and wail, much to her delight

I try to swim up, my lungs fill with fluid,

my skin grows icky with ink,

I flail about, my bones now ruined

and my spirit and body all sink,

and the tide ebbs,

and my heart has new webs.

[rand0mpandax3]

I've always loved my name, but when I call myself it rather than other people using it for me... it feels weird. not weird enough to change it, but just 'off'? yk?

I think this poem has a fitting name.

untitled:

this name doesn't fit over my body,

it's just on the placard exposing who I am,

what materials I was made with.

it doesn't fit over my soul, ripping at the seams when I try to hide underneath it.

people might call me this title,

but I know it might not match who I am below.

and it's hard, because I love what I've been dubbed,

it matches me perfectly, following every stitch.

but it fits so tightly, it allows me no room to breath

and at the same time it makes no sense when I call myself that.

maybe a nickname would suit me better, something shorter, more concise.

maybe something entirely different,

I have a few ideas.

I don't think I want this title,

sure it's beautiful, but I'm not that beautiful.

it matches what I could've been,

what I should've been, not who I am.

because when I was given it,

they never could have known the meaning

that would grow behind their precious artwork.

i deserve something that matches who I am, not who I was supposed to be.

I need a title that fits me.

[rand0mpandax3]

I've always wanted to live in Colorado, so I wrote a poem about it! it was also a chance to actually try a real rhyme scheme for once.

i also made an accompanying song melody for it! also whether the "ands" at the beginning of each line are or aren't there is up to you because I couldn't decide 😔

Colorado:

one day i'll settle down in the middle of colorado,

and ill get everything i want.

I'll lay down after a hard week of work,

all my woes and skin will be soft

and ill get in bed, with the girl i love,

we won't worry 'bout the cost

we will both fall asleep, safe and sound,

we'll wake up to paws on our chests

we'll get up, give a velvet good morn' kiss,

and we'd never need to be stressed

we'd live on a ranch, frosty and tepid

my hazy heart will finally be at rest

[rand0mpandax3]

wrote this one while I was bored in English class last semester 💔 it may or may not be abt SA

so... TW: mentions of SA

acid:

it's stuck on my tongue like tape,

tastes toxic on my taste buds,

and burns a patch down through my jaw.

and I can't get this bitter taste out of my mouth,

always feeling it on the top of my tongue,

always knowing what once grazed my lips.

it's sticky and sour, like acid on my teeth,

and I can't brush it away no matter how hard I scrub.

and I can't make it go away no matter how much will I've got.

tastes like acid on my lips,

toxins on my tongue,

and I can't shake the feeling that once was on my taste buds

[rand0mpandax3]

this one's kinda lengthy, but I like the premise

the path:

the path is long and lonely,

and its cold stings the soul,

but if you persevere,

you can almost make it.

I started on the path many ago,

thought it would take a little.

it took a lot.

I walked and I walked,

each step heavier,

each step slower.

the wind in my face,

blowing air back into my lungs

when I tried to cast it out.

but if you have to turn around,

just to breathe a breath of fresh air,

that's alright.

do what you have to do to make it.

even if it takes years,

I'd make it to the end.

the frosty air carves away at your will,

taking and taking,

and the only thing you can do is keep

giving and giving,

and try to conjure up more.

when you are reduced to your knees,

lie there on your side,

until you see the end again.

the path is windy and windy, (ih and i)

the end is nowhere close,

but as long as you can see it,

keep going.

keep walking, keep singing,

keep moving.

and if you start to lose sight of it,

there's nothing you can do,

you've already made it too far.

the colonnades are filled

to the brim with bodies,

bodies that never made it.

you can go lie down with them,

there's no shame in it.

it's not a sin

to simply be too tired to continue.

despite all those bodies,

you're the only living thing in sight.

and if you get to the end,

you're one of few.

one thing you were ignorant

of at the beginning,

but are well aware of now.

the path is freezing,

it freezes the soul,

it freezes the core,

making it impossible to keep moving.

the path is long and lonely,

and its cold stings the soul,

but if you persevere,

you can almost make it,

to where you give up.

[rand0mpandax3]

owls: (I didn't have a better name :( )

if only we weren't owls

if only our necks didn't swivel.

if only we didn't look back upon the tide,

and just flew away.

if only we left the bodies, all there, side by side,

instead of feeling the need to bury them.

if only we weren't compelled to poke and prod with our talons, instead of just leaving it be.

if only we could look forward, rather than at our backs, dropping feathers like we drop altitude,

as we fall lower and lower.

if only we never looked back, and just kept flying.

if only we could fly in any direction our heads turned, rather than only one, forever and ever.

if only we stopped caring about the ferns and the weeds, and just left the garden stranded.

if only our necks didn't swivel.

if only we weren't owls.

[rand0mpandax3]

surprisingly, this one is actually not about a person! /srs

it's about how I used to wake up before the sun rose every day, but I no longer do that.

it's a bit wordy and kind of sounds like thesaurus spam, but I like it nonetheless

devoid dawn:

I miss the sun.

I miss it's loom over the horizon,

forging the darkness to break way to light,

the beams coming and bounding over the fields,

leaving not a grain untouched.

I used to gaze over the sweeping lustre,

as the stars and the moon fade away,

lighting up the dusky sky with lucid radiance.

every morning, my eyes bid adieu to daydream.

as the animals woke up, surrounded by the warmth of a star.

I closed my eyes, and still saw only ochre, a sight full of sepia.

but now you, my shining star, have left me.

truthfully, I've cast you aside,

sealing my windows, steeking the curtains.

I utmost bestir to the sounding of caution,

starting my days with distress,

instead of your calming eye.

[rand0mpandax3]

this one is about my beautiful girlfriend, grey <3

grey:

I want to go to the grocery store with you,

hand in hand, and have it be a date.

I want to adorn our apartment together,

and fill it up with corner-store items people would donate.

I want to rise and shine, and drift off too, back to back with your love.

I want our life to be cozy, and despite the snow outside, warm and mellow.

I want to modify the mundane and numb,

painting the sky with a cadmium yellow.

others may call it drab or dull, but

I want to live out the rest of our lives together.

hand in hand, side by side,

I want to hold you and love you forever.

[rand0mpandax3]

I decided I'd start posting my poetry on here!!

dear dear:

hunted for sport,

bodies discarded and heads glued to walls,

treated as if they're nothing at all.

ran over without a second glance,

passed by cars and cars on end,

death without a message to send.

drinking water from nature's well,

slurp it up, don't leave a drop,

in the morning, you too will be but a prop.

softly grazing with their mother,

crossing across an infiltration,

red splatters across her creation.

no one even bats an eye,

and the doe stands still,

only the carwash pays the till.

take it all, you found it first,

"finders keepers" and it belongs to you,

but they're alive too.

[rand0mpandax3]

my two hyperfixations collide!! hermitcraft AND birbs‽‽

Hermits as birds from where they live/were born!

note: my knowledge is centered around North American birds, so sorry if the european ones aren't super accurate

Bdubs: Northern Saw-Whet Owl. He's just a little guy with big eyes. Small and evil, love him

Cub: Common Starling. Skulk like-iridescence, incredibly friendly. Plus, with Cub running the horn store this season, he NEEDED to be the bird that can imitate pretty much any noise it hears

Doc: Bonelli's Eagle. Large raptor found in Germany. It's straight "brow" and hunched posture remind me of Doc

Etho: Common Loon. THE! CANADIAN! BIRD! Despite being "common", their pattern is simply EXQUISITE Plus, it has a red eye! Also listen to the noises these things make, it's literally stock nature sounds all in one bird. Also, I'd put Etho on my one dollar coin.

False: Barn Owl. Very elegant owl, I just feel it suits her, that's all. Very stately posture.

Gem (Season 10 specifically): Great Blue Heron. It's a fisher, it's blue, it's menacing, what more could you ask for?

Scar (Hotguy): Double-crested Cormorant: A waterfowl bc scar did competitive swimming, it's got a slightly funky shape which I feel suits scar's personality. It also has the Hotguy colors!

Grian: Eurasian Bullfinch. Parrot Grian will not reign supreme. Look at that little guy. He's mischievous, he's red, I do not trust him.

Hypno: Stellar's Jay. My provincial bird! I just think both have very chill and cool personalities

Jevin: Lazuli Bunting. Just a little blue guy!

Impulse: American Goldfinch. Black and yellow, need I say more?

Iskall: Booted Eagle. Something about a stout raptor just feels right. Look at that posture. Reminds me of when Iskall tries to copy the brits' accents.

Joe: Turkey Vulture. Although seen as odd or menacing, all vultures are integral to the local ecosystem and are in actuality, very elegant and gentle birds.

Keralis: Boreal Owl. Yes, I did make the two guys with big eyes owls, What of it? LOOK at him. Put a little hardhat on him, put a little hawiian shirt on him. Precious sweet face.

Mumbo: Avocet. It's basically a vibe check and a mustache joke.

Peal: Black Swan. Big 5AM Pearl vibes. Giant, beautiful, protective. Love that for her.

Ren: Giant Kingfisher. Obligatory King Ren joke, it's a South African bird, and it's kinda goofy looking. I think the speckled feathers look like a ruffled fur collar on a king's cape.

Skizz: Golden Eagle. Large, majestic, hella strong, and he's wearing pants :3

Joel: Tree Swallow. Very small, beautiful, agile bird. The swallow's wings remind me of Asian art styles.

Stress: Magpie. GOR-JUS and LOUD. Imagine her next to Iskall (they're very similar in size, bless them)

Tango: Swainson's Hawk. I fought every bone in my body to not make an Arizona Cardinals joke when I already made a Phoenix Coyotes one maybe half an hour before. The Swainson's hawk is on the smaller size, but still a deadly spitfire, which I think suits Tango

TFC: Brown Pelican. A solitary bird, definitely a rare sighting. TFC was always joking about how much he would eat, I thought a pelican was apt

Beef: Barred Owl. MY FAVORITE OWL. I literally call them 'round beefy boys' and they're just so sweet and I love them

Wels: American Kestrel. I LOVE these little guys. Simply the smallest, cutest and beautiful falcon there is. They're about the size of a pigeon. It's just got such a regal posture despite being a little cutie.

XB: Rock Pigeon. Despite being common and seen as a "dumb pest", they are pretty intelligent, there's a reason they were used to carry messages around. They're also a close relation to doves! The green collar also is like the jacket collar on his skin.

Xisuma: Semipalmated Plover. X and Mumbo were both chosen because of how those birds run on the beach. They're RIDICULOUS. This subspecies is exclusively because it look like he's wearing a little helmet.

Zedaph: Firecrest. Just the GOOFIEST little guy I found on the wiki of British birds. Look at that thing /aff. Also, Zed do be blowing up a lot

Cleo: Partridge. Beautiful bird, looks like they want to kill you in your sleep, just like Cleo.

[rand0mpandax3]

LITERALLY THEM (help I don't know how reblogging works, am I doing it right??)

so i had a thought (context below)

[rand0mpandax3]

can they stop being insane about eachother when theyre both building japan inspired builds or i will use my power of drawing kimono porn- *gunshot noises*