NaPoWriMo Day 27 – Agnosthesia

Today I’ve embraced the official prompt of using an entry from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.

For three fortnights I’ve pondered

as the diorama spun-

splintering inside my fractured mind.

“I’m aware it’s a game,”

“I’m aware that it’s a no.”

I’m aware I was tripping balls

but it’s an opportunity to grow.

In that realm context brought pain,

sautéed synapses soaked in regret.

Why does everything have to relate to everything

when you’re finding it hard to relate to anything?

Yet I stood tall, I owned the wrong I did to others.

I refused to partake in cruelty even in a realm defined by it.

But now, I must right the wrongs in how I’ve treated myself.

NaPoWriMo Day 17 – Drink in the moon

Today I’ve opted to use the official prompt of writing about the moon.

Drink in the moon

with a big gulp-sip.

Drink in the moon

till you hear that smooth blue click.

Drink in the moon,

don’t you be a fool.

Drink in the moon,

you know it looks so cool.

He loved his friend but hated himself,

fields of gold become pyrite in stealth.

Tell me how’d you become such a fool,

hurtling at hurdles

and drunk at the school.

Faced with mendacity

he resigned himself to chastity

in light of fiery feline ferocity.

Drink in the moon

with a big gulp-sip.

Drink in the moon

till you hear that smooth blue click.

Drink in the moon,

don’t you be a fool.

Drink in the moon,

you know it looks so cool.

NaPoWriMo 2019/Day 1 – Recipe for Disaster

So a little precursor for day 1.

I stand on the precipice of some amazing opportunities but a combination of depression and witnessing the pointless cruelty of someone stifling the creativity and growth of a loved one while also affecting a potentially beneficial project have gotten me royally fucked off. Jaime Lannister may have said “by what right does the Wolf judge the Lion?” but a larger question for our society is “by what right does the fly hinder the workhorse?” For a fly knows nothing but the stench of shit and hindering those that are doing or have the potential to be doing good work.

Anyway. Here’s the piece:

Take a pinch of reality – oh shit… the whole cup

with the wisdom of Solomon to ask for none.

For knowledge without power is lacking in agency…

I have no taste for fuelling falsehoods flagrantly.

Is a pigeon stand-offish when the ledge is spiked?

I carry the message that’s needed, not the one that is liked.

Many are stupid, and many more crueller…

they sip Arbor Gold, gallivanting to stupor.

Bereft in agony, for my loved ones oft afar…

my heart remains open while life is ajar.

The ingredients are gourmet

but the pan is rusted.

I’m brilliant, alone and depressed

but is it me that’s busted?