If anybody needs me, I’ll be in the attic wearing a John Keats costume.
Tag Archives: Poetry
BwEoTrTsEeR
I’m still not very good at poetry, but I feel like I’ve been improving a lot recently!
Or at least I did, before I started reading Andrea Gibson. Now I feel like everything I’ve ever written, poetry or otherwise, is literal garbage. The garbage-est kind of garbage. Like, toilet paper.
Gently used toilet paper.
But…I’m still proud of the progress I’m making? If anything, I’m more motivated than ever to improve. Somehow, seeing a creator that far above my level is discouraging and inspiring at the same time.
It’s like looking across a massive canyon, a chasm that separates my ability from theirs. Surveying it, I can’t pretend perfectionism any more; every word I put onto the page is another reminder of my failure. But the flip side of seeing that gap–remembering it’s there–is that I also know it can be crossed. Andrea themself was on this side, once; they stood where I stand. If they made the journey, maybe I can too.
And of course, there are other reasons why it’s healthy to be reminded that you’re always making garbage.
Filed under Essays, Microblogging
Emo Tears Are Measured in Angst-roms
I’m starting to think some of that awful poetry I’ve been writing might actually be salvageable with a bit of work!
Please send help.
Filed under Microblogging, My Life
Fire
If you play with fire, sooner or later you’re going to get burned. The moral: stay away from fire.
When you light a fire, you can get burned. The moral: be careful with fire.
While cooking with fire, sometimes you get burned. The moral: some pain is unavoidable.
Some things burned by fire get cooked. The moral: not all destruction is bad.
Stop fire from spreading, feed it, it keeps you warm. Moral: some dangers can be tamed.
Pretty. Warm. Too much warmth is pain. Too much beauty spreads, kills. Learn: pleasant and safe are not the same.
…What is that?
Hot, bright, filled with color, dancing and alive, angry and lifeless, consuming and alluring and terrifying and pure. What is it?
Beautiful. What is it?
What is this?
Filed under Poetry
Better Than Perfect
(to the tune of “Your Reality” from Doki Doki Literature Club)
[Verse 1]
Here I stare at a screen that is white and clean, and it’s mocking me
How can I turn the thoughts running through my head to reality
[Chorus]
The keyboard sits here, indifferent and silent
Just move your hand, write the way into your heart
Fit all your thoughts into place, build them up tall
Rough and unmortared, but it’s still standing strong
Rough and unmortared, but it’s still standing strong
[Verse 2]
I admit, that this wall that I’ve cobbled together’s a bit ugly
Stones hacked out of the bed of the quarry in my mind unthinkingly
[Chorus]
“It’s not done,” I say in reassurance
There’s lots to do before it will be complete
There’s holes and cracks where the wind gusts right through it
But perfect walls won’t block any wind at all
Since they never leave your head
Demolish perfect with real
Build beautiful
Filed under Poetry
In Search of Secrets 