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Ritualistic Tendencies
Teenage ritual
Immobile and listening
A new one to inspire
An old one to comfort
Louder than the day itself
Or quietly sung into my ear
Inflate the air around to bring me to my feet in dance
Or to hug me with its warmth, nearly suffocating
Bring me to my knees, drive me to tears
Hold my anger, take it off my shoulders for a moment of peace
Let me wallow in the misery I'm feeling
Or float upon the thoughts of them
Let me know who the people I love are, what they're thinking
Serve as a reminder for a moment
For who a person once was to me, the world
Allow me to close my eyes and go backwards through the cruel forward trek of time
Peel back the cobwebs of memory
Let me see in full technicolor the things held close to my chest
Let me analyze my inside, what goes through my head
See the how and why of the cogs within
Let me be removed from the personal ordeal of emotion
Take me to an exhibit, let me observe it from afar
And through the observation, allow me to eventually see within myself
Press play on the playlist titled
Five sentences that do not fully encapsulate the mood
Two words put together artistically
An image that conveys more than any language could
Teenage ritual
Begin
may 1, 2021
#hm i dont know if i like this one actually#prose#my poetry#poem#poetry#original prose#original poetry
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Spring
I love spring the way it loves me
With an effortless calm
It gives its sweet growing scent and just like that
I can wear a skirt and smell the grass
The leaves have turned green and my boots are tucked in the closet corner
The sun stays to accompany me till dinner
And the bird's chirps greet me each morning
I love the spring in a way I don't even notice
But suddenly I have more reasons to smile and the sun warms my back as I sit on a bench
The ground has lost its dampness and the spring showers come accompanied by warmth
Without a second thought, I can step outside in nothing but a sweater
I love spring in the way you love an old friend
There's a familiarity that comes only with time
And so I can sit with the spring and do nothing
I can feel the absurd calm that comes with knowing something intimately
The lack of urgency granted with the trust that something will return
I know that today and tomorrow and the day after that will have blue skies
The sweet prospect of summer still awaits
Nearby, tantalizing with its not yet wasted time
And so I can love the spring in a hammock, on a chair
I can love the spring with the blisters from my converse
I love the spring with a certainty unmatched
I love the spring in its reminder that time has passed, that I have accomplished and learned and made it through
I love the spring with its resilience
The spring loves me by coming back
The spring loves me with its green grass and sunshine and its gift of time
The spring loves me with its caressing winds and its strong gusts that tousle my hair all about
The spring loves me with the constant presence of an older brother, with the annoyance of a younger one
The spring loves me
And I love the spring
apr. 15, 2021
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An Infinite Nothing
I want an infinite nothing
To have an empty time
To escape the chains of expectation
And the brunt of watchful eyes
And the weight of limited existence
To know I don't have to do
And be able to take it for granted
To be free of the need to move or do anything but what I want
And not even consider another possibility
I want to only get up when I am struck by inspiration or desire
Not one instilled in me by the outside
Nor one that, though self imposed, stems from something outside myself
Let my ideas come from only my mind and that which I choose to feed it
Let me be unburdened by that which is needed, by the problems imposed and created by others outside my control
Let me escape the chains of comprehension and the need to explain
Let me no longer think about that which is outside myself
Let me look inwardly, and not even realize that there is an alternative
I want an infinite nothing
One so impossibly true that I do not know there is any other
And let me leave it only when I truly desire
Let me leave it only when my inner self has healed, my outer self been restored
Only when I am ready
apr. 9, 2021
#this is old#apr 9 2021#poetry#writing#creative writing#my poetry#original prose#prose#just figured i should try to put all my stuff in one place#at least all the stuff i like
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Rating the Madrigals on how likely I could beat them in a fight
Alma: 9/10. She’s an old woman and is very fragile, I could probably body her without hesitation. The only reason she’s not a 10/10 is because I would feel guilty about it. The reason she’s 9/10 is because I wouldn’t feel that guilty.
Pepa: 4/10. Once I land a hit I’ll probably get struck by lightning and end up fucking dead. Not a good way to go. If she didn’t have her gift I could probably get a few good hits in, but she seems pretty feral. Would try to tear my ears off.
Julieta: 7.5/10. I have fought both verbally and physically with people who love to cook on several occasions. As long as she’s not in the kitchen, I win this fight. Points taken off because if I hurt her Luisa will probably rip my spine out.
Agustín: 100/10. I swing on him. He dodges and tries to swing back. Somehow he punches a beehive instead. Victory is mine.
Félix: 5/10, he looks pretty hardy and honestly it would probably come down to who lands the first hit.
Luisa: 3/10. It’s likely that if I challenged her to a fight she’d refuse, and therefore I would win. But if I did fight her it would be over embarrassingly quick. She could tear a grown man in half, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Dolores: 10/10. She seems like the type to try to pull hair during a fight which would leave her torso wide open, and her gift probably wouldn’t help her that much. Unless she can hear the punch coming, which I doubt. Also I could probably just yell at her and watch her crumble from how sensitive her ears are.
Isabela: 1/10. She’s definitely been waiting for a chance to go apeshit. Visualize this: I swing, I punch a cactus. Then she’s growing monkshood directly from my spinal cord.
Camilo: 5/10. Just like his father it’s likely going to come down to who lands the first punch, and if he gets like. The strength of whoever he changes into. If I land a hit before he gets to shapeshift, we’re good. But if I don’t and he turns into Luisa— welp. I’m dead.
Antonio: 1/10. I drop-kick the child and immediately get gored by a rhinoceros.
Bruno: 6/10. I wish this one was a 10/10. He looks like he weighs 100 pounds soaking wet. He looks like I should be able to hit him with the one two buckle-my-shoe and watch him go down like a sack of potatoes. But no. This motherfucker is agile, parkouring through the walls of Casita. And he was living with rats for ten years. He’d probably give me bubonic plague bc I know he’d bite me if I swung on him. Would I win? Probably, but it would be hard.
Mirabel: 3/10. I could probably very easily beat the shit out of her, but she seems like the type to never go down. She’s got endurance and is probably scrappy as all hell from growing up with no powers. Like when the person you’re roughhousing with can change shape, you fight dirty. She’d probably hit me with homemade pepper spray. She’d put a bucket on my head like I’m a Skyrim NPC then bash my kneecaps in. She’s unhinged.
Casita: 0/10. Motherfucker it’s a house??????? How do you fight a house????????????
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how could you break my heart like this </3
The Miys, Ch. 171
I can’t even pretend, this was a hard chapter to write. Not just emotionally, but it also fought me every step of the way.
That said, thank you @baelpenrose and @quantumizedinsanity for hanging in there with me while I struggled.
Keep reading
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Do you have poetry recommendations for beginners
collected maya angelou
madness by sam sax
the tradition by jericho brown
nature poem by tommy pico
eyes bottle dark with a mouthful of flowers by jake skeets
when my brother was an aztec by natalie diaz
new american best friend by olivia gatwood
outlaw bible of american poetry (various)
don't call us dead by danez smith
prelude to bruise by saeed jones
soft science by franny choi
howl & other poems by allen ginsberg
dreamland by matthew dickman
this way to sugar by hieu minh nguyen
brute by emily skaja
when i grow up i want to be a list of further possibilities by chen chen
hum by jamaal may
look by solmaz sharif
night sky with exit wounds by ocean vuong
crush by richard siken
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Fuck the poets and their romance.
There is no way there is one great love reserved for each of us, I reject it.
I open my heart without shame or fear and I hold many great loves.
There is no one. The individual does not exist, the universe is blind to it – one is within the other, we overlap and form the world's colours.
Fuck the romance that was pulled over my eyes, tied, secured with double knot, the one I didn't even know I had to fight, didn't even know I could.
I want to know how I would have gone through the world free of the notion, how many great loves I would have found on my own if I hadn't been told it was the point.
I resent the movies that made my friends feel broken, that plunged one of their heads into ice water, relationship after relationship that didn't make them feel whole.
What is it with this missing piece? Why must we be fundamentally broken to accept another into our lives?
My edges might be jagged but they do not make me incomplete. I am fully myself without one person filling every gap.
I am not alone without a lover. I do not need one love to be my everything. I hold many near my heart and they are all dear to me.
This oneness is overbearing. Yes, let me be special to someone, yes, let me find solace in another.
But do not tell me I must go to one alone for everything, when you do not expect a chef to be an author and a carpenter too.
Our expressions of love are great and varied, and to expect one to do it all for you is unbearably heavy.
Why do we need to hold two lives in one hand?
This is not an argument that seeks to empty my heart of love. Love is in fact the reason I find to be most compelling for life.
It is this notion of one true love, of I hate everyone except for you, that I seek to wash from my hands.
In exchange for this one beloved, your world seems to need to be drained of colour before (the colour they'll give to your life), the other ties your heart holds seem to need to lose their grip on you after (so that their love may be all that matters to you). And I want none of it.
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I feel like polyamory really has opened my understanding of what love and relationships are, and that it really doesn’t have to look any sort of way; all that matters is what you and the other person want, and what you decide to create together.
like, I’ve always struggled to understand the difference in feeling between all the types of attraction (platonic, romantic, sexual, alterous, aesthetic, etc), it’s all so fluid and hard to define! and i cannot TELL you how long I spent thinking abt the people in my life and trying to sort them into these little boxes of feeling- and on top of that, all of these boxes kind of had this hierarchy, with romantic/sexual attraction as the most ‘important’, and everything else at varying levels.
its really not surprising that i felt that way, bc monogamous-centric culture reinforces it subtly almost anywhere you go (finding ‘the one’, being ‘more’ than friends, etcetc), and it ended up making me feel like while friendships are important, theyd never be as fulfilling as “being in love!!” and that the end goal with someone you really enjoy and want to have in your life forever was to, well, marry ‘em.
but honestly (in my relationship anarchist opinion ofc) is thats bullshit!!
love is such a diverse thing; everyone has a different definition of love, a different definition of what being in love with someone is. for me, i fall in love with people SO EASY- but i use the phrase ‘falling in love’ with every type of attraction!
i am in love with my best friend!! they are truly a beautiful person and i cant imagine what life without them looks like!! in the early stages of knowing him, I struggled with knowing HOW i loved them, all i knew was that I wanted her in my life in some way, no matter what that looked like. What our relationship turned into was a really close platonic one, and I couldnt be happier- and I value our type of love as JUST as intense and valuable and important as any romantic love!! and thats kind of what i mean by “love and relationships should only be defined by the people inside of them”- we may have a relationship that appears closer than what a platonic one SHOULD look like, but that doesnt matter!! i love him and she loves me, and this is what kind of bond we were meant to have, and thats! all! that! should! matter!
while im somebody that is highly romantic/love based, i could see myself in a relationship with an aroace person! now that i’ve broken myself from the idea of ‘i have to get all of my romantic/sexual/sensual needs or wants from my one life partner’, I could happily be in a QPR with someone that doesnt experience love the same as me, and i would even love to have them as my nesting partner if thats a type of relationship and commitment that works for them too!!
love is a beautiful thing in any sort of bond i make, and i love the people in my life HARD whether we’re friends, partners, lovers or whatever we decide feels good for us specifically! outside influences have no place in deciding how my relationships work, and i just feel. truly blessed to understand myself and my relationship to love and relationships to others much better, and i really owe it all to polyamory for showing me that a cut-and-dry, traditional, monogamous, “romantic love first” life isnt the ONLY option out there.
anywayz big love to all yall polyamorous folks out there, whether you view love the way i do, have a completely different definition of it, or if you dont feel like you experience love at all!! youre all beautiful and deserving of whatever relationship styles you want, no matter what it looks like. shoutout to queer polyams, acespec/arospec/aroace polyams, and polyams of all shapes and sizes!!! ily all and im so glad to be a part of this huge diverse community <3
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one of those generically cheerful Bless this Home (and all who enter) signs, but instead it says Memento Mori (remember that you must die)
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did u know that fire is shaped the way that it is bc of gravity and if it werent for gravityitd be an orb
yep! here's what a match looks like burning in microgravity, it's WILD
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The gentle slope of the hill is visible, but my feet barely feel it. On the other side of the valley there's a red-leaved tree that matches the leaves on the shrub right by me. But I'm at an angle where the valley's steep entrance can't be seen – all I see are the bare branches at the tops of the trees, which seem to make up all of the ground, like if I walked across the valley they'd hold me up.
I imagine what it's like to feel as light as a single leaf on one of those trees. Fragile enough to be swept away by the wind. I think, maybe, that's what it felt like to be small. But being small didn't allow me to look across the valley and imagine skipping across. Feeling the weight of being older lets me know what it's like when I'm light.
Traversing the same path I walked less than a year ago, I know who I am has changed. I know I'll never walk this path in quite the same way again. As I walk this familiar loop, I notice that this afternoon I am much lighter than that afternoon months ago where I trudged through the snow.
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All Buttons are $2.50 - $3.00!!
https://strange-aeons.myshopify.com/
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they make everything within me settle.
-
even when my body is vying to leave itself, trembling with trapped energy,
or when my brain is boring a circular path into itself, a never-ending stream of i am embarrassing,
or when my hands seem impossible to still, trying to get the nervous out through my fingertips.
-
they can make it all pause for a bit.
we can walk together. (my legs still shake, but the pattern of my footsteps tunes it out for a while.)
they offer me a ladder out of the seemingly inescapable path inscribed in my head -- they say do you see this thing? it makes me happy. (and i see it and i am happy too.)
they say yes when i offer my hand and i can feel joy blooming from the warmth in my palm. it moves to fill my abdomen (and my stomachache goes away).
-
often, i wish to be endlessly happy. and they remind me that sometimes being alright is enough.
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there's no guarantees
impossible to wrap their head around
how everything they can have will be a result of their actions, their choices
they keep waiting for when they'll have to do
but it never comes
the insurmountable wall that they cannot pass
before doing something
never arises
it lingers, small and indistinguishable, in the background
and they trudge on, waiting to hit it
but if they don't start building a wall themselves, they'll never find themselves climbing
instead finding that the path trudges ahead
until, finally, the day comes where their cheek meets with brick
and they're gone from the world
having met their wall
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