#free written poem

[borntochasethewind]

I don’t know what is worse

loving someone an ocean away,

who doesn’t want a relationship, but is the kindest, sweetest soul you’ve ever met

or loving someone close,

but they don’t want to love you the right way.

This empty hole in my chest throbs at the thought.

I left the man who couldn’t change,

But he took parts of me.

Now the man I fell for across the sea

is dating someone else.

But still wants me to be his best friend

that he flirts with on the side.

Am i not worth being loved the way i need to be?

[dragon-ascent]

poem ~ those which rise from the sea

Stories lived to paint a picture of Rex Lapis’ legacy:

The trials and tribulations leading to his eventual supremacy.

Every facet of himself was constructed of shards

From imaginative old ladies or wayward bards.

It is oft tough to separate fantasy from the true,

Yet many of his endeavours were not untrue.

One tale in particular rests comfortably in time,

Dear traveller, stop and listen to this rhyme:

The curtain rises on the Liyue of yore,

A land caught in torrid waves of war.

Morax, the accepted deity of the nation,

Purged god and monster to safeguard this foundation.

Until one day, crawling from the sea,

Came the slimiest little creatures one ever did see.

With slippery limbs, and a pungent stench,

These small monsters made many a fist clench.

Rex contrived to destroy them at his people’s behest,

But the eradication proved no small request.

The vile creatures laughed in the face of his wrath,

As no spear or rain of stone could blockade their path.

Yet the god could not falter; his word was his bond,

A broken contract was to be considered conned.

So with rock-solid resolve and will renewed,

A new plan was to be construed.

Households grew restless and could take it no more,

Until they were stopped by a knock at the door.

There stood mighty Morax, the warrior god,

Who’d discarded his spear for a small stone pod.

Caging the pesky maggots proved no easy task,

For t’was in inconspicuousness they deigned to bask.

If Rex rushed towards one in a shadowy cove,

He’d find it gone, only to reappear under the stove.

He scouted them out in every nook and cranny

Even finding one nestled in the hair of a granny.

Yes, they were so small that one had to look

Everywhere – even between the pages of a book.

Our beloved archon recalls, albeit not so fondly,

How one of the beings seemed to move so oddly.

A wriggly thing, in black ink draped:

Once captured, twice escaped.

The slime it left in its drunk-like amble

Made people cower back in a frenzied scramble.

It took enticing it with sugared food

To duly imprison it for good.

And speak not a word of that deplorable smell,

Left behind them like remnants of Hell.

T’was only after days of feverish cleaning

Until the foul reek no longer sneered, demeaning.

Carefully, diligently, he trapped the squirming beasts,

Until not a single one remained in the houses or streets.

T’was a burden lifted, a tension eased:

Those azure-risen menaces their havoc-making ceased.

Thus, with Liyue’s slithery crisis averted,

An era of peace the Geo Lord asserted.

The land then gained a newfound reverence for Morax –

The unshakeable, immovable God of Contracts.

The curtain may have fallen on this event,

But Rex Lapis still harbours feelings of resent.

Shorn of his taste for the marine-born things,

Even centuries later, the memory yet stings.

[janthewriter]

The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword

they say that words hold power

and that what you write comes to life.

but what if you tend to write about the

deepest, darkest, horrors

that haunt the furtherest corners of your mind

at the cost of your sanity

are those thoughts that your mind beholds

already well alive

dwelling among us

in the darkness & shadows

begging for our eyes to just simply catch a glance

of the reality around us that already is?

~ j.u.

[outofmychaos]

let your light flow into my soul so I could see hope in tomorrow

[snailsfoods]

[bazpitch]

mosquito: a memoir by felix lecocq (x)

[twinnedpeaks]

lividity, salem m.s.

[mywordsarewings]

what if the walls around you crumbled, until all that remained was rubble, your history reduced, destroyed, deconstructed. would you ask for help? would a stranger lend a pristine, unsullied hand? or would they watch from the safety of their screens, seeing not a victim, not a life, a reality, but dehumanized trash?

[thejournalofveronica]

God I hate writers, they're so dramatic.

They'll take their misery

And transform it into art.

They'll use their sadness as an ingredient

in every recipe.

And thy will all taste great.

They will use you as their material

And you would not be able to object.

Because they have used you when things were nice too.

They'll say you're their inspiration

And it will seem romantic

But it isn't.

They'll lead you on with their writing

Let you sympathise

And feel things

When they're not even sad anymore.

They do the best they can

With what they feel

And sometimes

A person only has to

Feel

.

[sfsolstice]

i half-dreamt of right before twilight, and i've come out of the home office— there, you keep your keyboard and guitar— away from the bed you curl in as i played make-believe with years-long friends behind digita, where, there, the moon still shone and the sounds of dinner still rang, and i hope that i didn't disturb your peace in the young hours of the night;

and i half-dreamt when the night began to close, you found me, not beside to you, but out on the winter balcony with tea in hand and watching the lavender paint of the cold, dark heavens, and you'd make your own cup and join beside, with, me— february frost biting our toes, held hands warming our souls.

[oedipushansen]

[borntochasethewind]

I sit in the bathtub

refilling the tub over and over

craving the heat, needing it.

my body hurts for your touch, aches.

the water is the only thing that soothes the burns

your fingers left on me.

water trickles down, slowly pooling on the floor.

i hear it, but my body doesn’t react.

i listen, mind numb, as the water starts streaming down

and all i can think about is

how much i poured into you when you were already full.

[ghostlywritter]

you became a specter

a figure on the horizon, an absent presence that my heart misses. abruptly my bones broke when he collided violently against the walls of his contempt POW

I grew up with some heartaches, you broke the chain of love, I felt that, after you no one else would love me.

If you don't love me anymore, who will? the child me looked at his empty side of the bed filled me with meaningless questions. why leave? night after night, for months I watched you appear and promise me you would come back, lie! I just saw you walk away. wet pillow, some secret tears a ghost from the past, still present. the gray days have become my favorites, I had to get used to seeing everything in black and white I don't recognize you anymore. I haven't known you for 6 years but I know you're not that interesting to talk about in a whole poem so when you left me, should I die?

[sleepy-mercury]

i am writing this for the universe.

it is unlikely anyone will read this.

no-one should read this.

listen to them. they are shouting. listen.

(but i will talk anyway)

the universe will listen.

hello world.

are you listening?

are you tired yet?

i am tired.

we are all tired.

(they are so much more tired)

there is so much suffering.

did you know they are not allowed the rain?

the rain belongs to Them. the controllers. the occupiers.

(the rain belongs to no-one)

(the rain belongs to gaia)

what sort of person tries to control the rain?

the rain belongs to us all.

“lest we forget”

that is what we are told.

we must not forget their sacrifices.

but we are talking about different people.

we are ignoring their sacrifice, their loss, on the day we are meant to remember.

so i will remember.

you will remember.

we will remember.

so many have been forgotten.

so many are being ignored.

(so stop ignoring them)

this is going to be long. i am sorry.

you can go know, if you are tired.

(do not look away)

(we owe them that)

this might seem weird for me to focus on.

if you are not autistic you may not understand. that is fine. listen anyway.

thinking about the lives lost creates big feelings. too big.

i feel lots. i cannot feel this much.

so i do not, i feel little feelings about little things.

(i am privileged)

(i can stop feeling big feelings)

(they cannot)

but i keep thinking of the teddies.

the photos. the children’s paintings. the bad pottery.

the memories kept in them.

(i am sentimental)

(forgive me)

i have so many objects.

they mean so much to me.

(everyone has these things. that go with them. that is human, is it not?)

(they are human)

they are human.

but they cannot think of the objects.

that will come later.

much later.

(if there is later)

(there will be a later)

now they must think of life.

their life. their family’s life. their neighbour’s life.

and they must try to live.

i am autistic.

what must it be like to be autistic there?

bombs falling non-stop.

all day. all night.

no rest.

no respite.

everything changing day-to-day.

they are told to leave their home.

they are told to leave.

they will be safe if they leave.

(they will not be safe)

(he was told that)

(he is dead)

(they shot him)

but why should they leave.

this is their home.

you would not leave your home.

(no-one would tell you to leave)

why should they.

why will They not listen.

we are protesting.

we are trying to tell Them.

but They do not care.

They only thin of Themselves.

of money, or power.

(it is always power)

They do not consider the lives taken.

(do They consider them as lives?)

(they are lives. they are human)

(they were human)

they cannot talk to us.

that has been taken.

with the food.

with the water.

with the power.

(with their lives)

we must keep talking.

we must keep trying.

they will be free.

they deserve to be free.

they deserve to live.

they are all innocent.

we talk about the women and children.

but the men are innocent as well.

they are all innocent.

but we cannot target other minorities.

it is not the fault of religions.

any of them.

(any of them)

so do not target them either.

they did not ask for this.

they want peace.

we all want peace.

it is going to get worse.

it is winter.

winter is cold.

(they will be so cold)

keep talking.

keep donating.

do what you can.

but don’t look away.

From the river to the sea.

[outofmychaos]

I'll plant flowers in your mind where its roots will reach your deepest dark thoughts

[craycraybluejay]

Anouther I bet you're a pretty normal dude. You're so normal. The normalest. I'm so normal. N n normal urges. The things I wanna do they- they're so normal. I- they- you don't understand. I'm very normal ok? Try to understand how normal I am. When I walk down the street they think I'm such an absolutely normal guy. They go wow. Woah. Hy's the normalest of us all. I'm so normal it- it makes me almost boring and unlikeable in a- in a different direction. See, you couldn't even FATHOM how normal I am. I don't even use words like fathom. Because I'm so normal. I dress in exactly what is most popular and acceptable in any given moment; I have this magic- powerful sense for it. I connect to others a normal amount over normal things. I have normal unremarkable ideas. I do not have different political and moral ideas from you, don't be crazy abnormal. I eat normal, I drink normal, I breathe normal. And if you say otherwise you're retarded abnormal. I'm like you, I'm normal. Stop being such a puss- Stop bein- stop pretending I'm a degenerate abnormal. I don't even curse and and I especially don't use, gasp, slurs. You're a disgusting pervert freak mean person for thinking I'm anything but perfectly normal. I have experienced nothing. I am a monument to nothing. That is how very normal I am.