poetry

monstrosity

i am shadow, darkness and lantern flame

the beast in the woods

monsters can’t be tamed

 

you know me by so many names

yet i’m not understood

i am shadow, darkness and lantern flame

 

cruel fangs that bite and maim

i’m nothing close to good

monsters can’t be tamed

 

i’ve been denounced and shamed

when before the world i stood

i am shadow, darkness and lantern flame

 

you called me “beast” and one i became

i’d open throats if i could

monsters can’t be tamed

 

much like an animal, i’m unashamed

branching antlers made of wood

i am shadow, darkness and lantern flame

monsters can’t be tamed

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poetry

optimism

When I’m by myself and the silence is crushing

that’s when depression decides to drop by

It tells me I’m worthless, it tells me I’m nothing

My head in my hands, I try not to cry

I wonder sometimes, what it would be like

to go for a day without hating myself

And tell these bad thoughts to just take a hike

And bottle my tears, put them high on a shelf

This is a battle I never thought I’d fight

Sadness coming over me out of nowhere

But by now I’ve the heart of a war-hardened knight

And I lift up my weapons of hope and self-care

God help me, I won’t be another statistic

“They couldn’t deal with it, the world was too rough”

I’ll dismantle my feelings with methods artistic

With lyrics and verse, but will this be enough?

Can writing this down really help my depression?

I don’t understand, it’s just words on a page…

I guess it’s a visual mind-decompression

my sorrow can now, finally, exit the stage

Laying these words down, I follow my thoughts

I see where my heart goes, the paths my mind takes

Depression sneers at me with all that it’s got

But I’ll stand up and foil every move it can make

This will not destroy me, I will not retreat

And I’ll handle myself with pure, joyful grace

Lots of friends on my side, I can stay on my feet

And keep fighting on with a smile on my face

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poetry

brainweird

And now I want to cry

Suddenly sad, but why?

Not doing well in my classes

Got bad eating habits

Can’t concentrate

Full of anger and hate

No social skills and I’m lazy, uncool

I’m in terrible shape

Can’t stand going to school

Life is so precious

and I’m wasting my time

But I can’t figure out what to do

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poetry

cosplay

anticipation bubbles

as convention dates draw near

and all my feelings muddle

my excitement, joy and fear

we’ll get our costumes ready

all my geeky friends and I

with seams and brushes steady

wielding paint and glue and dye

we toil for love of fandom

and the characters we choose

pose solo or in tandem

in so many different shoes

always ready for pictures

we enjoy our fleeting fame

ignore the hateful strictures

no wrong way to play this game

for a moment in our lives

break away from all that’s real

and we’re satisfied to strive

to our own ego ideal

for the fiction we adore

work our fingers to the bone

not a hobby, something more

when we cosplay, we’re at home

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poetry

The Ballad of Patti-Belle Mayfair

Young Miss Mayfair was just fifteen

With virtues pure and morals clean

And parents laying out her dreams

Said “Sweetling, you’ll be married.”

 

Young Miss Mayfair did not agree

No man alive she cared to see

Indignant and bewildered, she

Asked “Why should I be married?”

 

Young Miss Mayfair tried to explain

That wedlock’s cage would cause her pain

O’er her, a man would never reign

And she would not be married

 

Young Miss Mayfair’s suitor, he said

“I’ll see this through, or see you dead

now place this veil upon your head

and thus we will be married.”

 

Young Miss Mayfair’s sweet lips did frown

She sighed and gazed upon the ground

She would not wear that mournful gown

And she would not be married

 

The Mayfair parents were enraged

Their daughter was to be engaged

And thus pass on the family name

The girl had to be married

 

The suitor didn’t care a bit

He’d marry this blond, blue-eyed twit

Her fortune, he’d take all of it

So what? Sure, they’d be married

 

The Mayfair parents learned of this

The suitor’s rougeish scheming, his

ungentlemanly planning, “Kiss

the gold goodbye, no marriage!”

 

Young Miss Mayfair went further still

With appetites that she would fill

Her would-be groom she then did kill

And him, she would not marry

 

The Mayfair parents cheered her on

And chopped his body up at dawn

The would-be son of theirs was gone

Their daughter would not marry

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poetry

hit it

i feel light, the hit goes to my head and down to my fingers

i am switched on

i have enhanced appreciation for all five senses and

i feel light, lifted

i am beautiful and perfect, and so is everyone else

i know

i am high(er) than i am accustomed to and

i worry about nothing

i feel the light

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