We are,
They say,
Made of clay.
Astral mud
And dusty stars,
Or
Heavy red
Riverbank soul
Farmed from the heart
Of what we
Truly are.
Molded into
What we wish
To be.
An image of god
Or golden calf,
Imperfect clay
Are we.
Tag: free form poetry
I Was
This is an actual stream of conciousness type write. With inspiration also drawn from the photo for Fandango’s flash fiction challenge.
Music: All Them Witches – Lost and Found EP (can be found here on youtube if interested)
When I was a kid I liked to imagine my life somewhere exotic, in times and places far away.
I was Esmeralda, dancing in the hot breeze. I was Ariel, venturing beyond the realm of known. I was a power ranger, saving the world one swipe and swoosh at a time.
I was anything and everything: a paper bag carrying Superman’s groceries; a walking stick leading a great adventure.
I was taught, and well it seems, that I was only an accessory.
I was a compliment and a burden.
I was helpless when all I wanted was to be a hero.
I was worthless, a string of fake pearls snatched from Ms. Scarlett’s neck.
I was scattered, a faded news piece, irrelevant before my ink dried.
But all I dreamed was of being a hero, of saving the world one crisis at a time.
And maybe on the weekends I could still be Esmeralda, dancing under the moon.
Flourish
I’m terrified
This is everything
Life was meant to be
Passage
The passage of time
Of lines in the road
Or trees on the horizon
Seconds passing
Or years gliding
Through dim tunnels
And dark underbrush
How far we travel
Without realizing
How far we’ve come
See also: (I will never not mention this song when given the chance)
RDP: Passage
Ash
Is this what becomes of us?
Today freezing rain
Tomorrow a summer breeze
Wind blows along the stream
Rustling thickets
Driving rain
I exist at the funeral
But I float above
Searching
For the right combination
The moment you walked away
I try to redirect you
With empty threats
And promises of gold
As with most things
I fail
RDP: Ash
All For Show
There’s something here.
I can feel it seething just below
Writhing and hissing and trying to throw me off
Passing fear is replaced with adrenaline
I grab handfuls of smoke
But it curls between my knuckles
Escaping into the void
I know it’s not vicious
Those gnashing jaws and underbelly growls
It’s all for show
Fairy Tales and Daydreams
I thought I would find you here,
With or without your noble steed.
I knew.
I never wanted to walk away.
Maybe it was only me.
It seems
No one saves the day.
Overthinking
You breathe sideways
A movement pregnant with meaning
To the needle of my mind
136 Untitled Drafts
Depression is 136 untitled drafts
Neatly ordered by cut and depth
Catalogued by tears spread
And self destroying claims
It’s reflections
No longer resembling the party
And freezing floors
Under burning drunken skin
It’s purposely destroyed
Dreams, papers, applications
In the kitchen bin as you look on
And bloodshot scared animal eyes
It’s imploding
Pressured into ash
While never sleeping or even stopping
Because rules are always changing
It’s 136 pieces
Of torn papier-mâché soul
Too stupid, too sad, too bad
Scattered over cold tile floors
Pardon Me
I’m sorry,
What is it I’m radiating?
I don’t look happy?
What was that sigh you ask?
Pardon me.
Let me zip it, clip it
Put it back together.
I forgot.
Falling apart here
Is dipping in waters well known.
Excuse me.
My fault for displaying
Any emotion but what you feel.
You know I can’t read minds
But no,
You just don’t care.
Let me zip it, clip it
Put it back together here.
I forgot,
My fault
For displaying any emotion
Other than what you feel.
