Weighting

She is happy

Boppy

Talkative over an empty cup of coffee

She descended downstairs to the bathroom and us as a crowd

Were not as loud

At the foot of the stairs she returned

And every preconception burned

I could tell she was paper thin

But no one heard her call food a sin

 

She wrapped up her smile

In her pocket was where it was kept

Saving it for the triumph

Called the top step

There are no words to iterate

No diction to explain

The lack of energy she had moving

How each step was tackled with such strain

How skin and bone clutched onto the hand rail

But she was on her feet and refused to be beat

She promised herself she would witness defeat

As often as she would eat

And she ascended

Sitting comfortably in her seat

Asking about the crowd absent of her

And how it did fare

I was not looking forward to my trip home

Buses trams and walking to get there

But her tired tired wings had so much more

They had a flight of stairs

Advertisements

The Fifth Witch

Author’s Note: This piece was written in response to a photo, which can be found here

If you would like to see more of the photographer’s work (and I would highly recommend him), you can do so here

Five witches gave birth to the elements

Earth air fire and water

Dressed to represent their children

But the fifth witch bore a child unknown to this planet

Naming her progeny Void

Space

That which comes before birth and after death

All released from her child will come to be

All her descendant takes back will cease

Praised as the giver of life

As she controls all before it is

Neither witch nor man can depart her company

Without returning someday

 

None can name any who opposed her

For how can someone be named

When they suddenly never were

Pokédate

pokemon-go

Dropping a lure was the perfect lonliness cure

I caught a Pikachu

A Jinx

And you

You’re as pretty and rare as Mew

And I hoped I could be your Mew too

I must have had a lucky egg in my inventory

Because this could be the perfect love story

So we share locations for poké stops and gyms

And you ask is there a her as I ask is there a him

We smile and decide to hatch these ten kilometer eggs with company

So we’re walking and talking when suddenly

You see a gym and dive into action with a Butterfree

And I say that gym is already taken by me

It says on your phone that it’s ruled by Valor but you must have missed it”

Then you broke my heart when you said you were Team Mystic

I can’t believe we Pokédated

Mystic is overrated

Valor is this gyn’s ruler

Articuno may be cold but Moltres is cooler

You can try and take that gym but I won’t let it be

Our love has fainted

And so will your Butterfree

It’s all about the volume

Treat your music like your drink

It’s all about the volume

Treat yourself to the burning in the back of your throat

From the perfect tune

The barman is making screaming eargasms

Making your heart beat and your legs stupid

Bacchus is on the dance floor

Shifting the face off Cupid

So get your earphones

Let the shot go to your head

The music says worry about tomorrow

When you’re dying in bed

To choose your drink

Pick your song

We are young

And the night is long

shot glass

Allure

 

diamondI came across a talking diamond

I picked it up and listened to what was said

It spoke of how it wasn’t pretty yet

Wanting my shade of red

Now my pants are black and my jacket is green

Whatever could the diamond mean

 

I woke in a groggy state

Crimson nightmares hurled me into the waking land

Where the diamond had turned pink

And lay sleeping in my hand

The clock mocked

As the energy needed for simple tasks shocked

But it does not matter

How awfully slow the days go by

For I have my talking diamond

Always by my side

 

I now have a pale complexion

And shadows under my eyes

Upon closer inspection

Yet the cause of all this

There is no detection

Until my talking diamond spoke

One last time

About the shade of red

It could never find

It said rubies get all the fame

So to match is to mimic

And to mimic is to be the same

Within my veins coursed its shade of red

It knows I am too weak

To get out of bed

The diamond will be pretty

The ruby has been fed

I’m No Good at Titles

I really hate rhyme

Could never get the hang of it

Or keep it in time

It should be banned across the nation

And don’t get me started on alliteration

 

Answers towards alliteration elude me with ease

Which is a shame because it is a skill to savour

A serenade of words sung by those with style

But one thing I loath lower than alliteration

Is fine language

 

I stand at a precipice when faced

With the more articulated parts of the language

I view such trivial efforts to sound educated

As a fruitless endeavour

Wrought with pretension and solitude

From those of virtue and truth

 

When all these aspects of writing

Stand like termites together

They charge at me with a united cause

Birds of a feather

Determined to give a monstrous migraine

To this man who would not

Pity any and all who deem these cheap maneuvers

As something that should be sought