Late, but not by much! I’m feeling slightly more alive than yesterday and so I’m taking this chance to catch up on the Shadow of May challenge. Yesterday, day twenty-seven, prompted: How do I feel about my accomplishments?
I don’t mean to brag, but
I’ve got hands on experience
With bad luck. I was born bad,
Unlucky, never ever stopped crying,
My mother swore to me, I never stopped
Until she put me down, shut the door, and
Turned off all the lights, the t.v, and the radio
In the house we never got to live long in.
I was a bad omen baby, she,
Bless her heart, she wouldn’t pick me up
It was my fortune, and I was
Bastardly fortunate, I guess, in some ways.
I learned to lose parts of myself quickly, and
Eventually put in the wounds left behind
More usable things, more unstable limbs.
A quick learner, my teachers would say.
I was such a quick learner, and maybe I was
At some time. I’ve got a few plaques with
My name on them shoved into my closet, behind
Some things I don’t remember ever owning.
Bad luck, I’ve got the experience, so
I think I know when I tell you how
It’s bad luck, to ever assume
Okay, so I’m trying to power through these and get caught up. I’ve finished day Twenty-six of Shadow of May which asked: What is my direction in life? What is my purpose? Yesterday and today’s are just notes sitting on my desk right now – hopefully not for long.
Tell me what it is I’m trying to be,
The Queen, the King, the Knight,
Oh, night! It’s time, allow me to wash
My hair tonight in that icy, icy sea.
Tell me the truth, tell me please,
How there are many kind and gentle things,
People, really, and though I don’t always
Consider myself one of them – often,
It’s every so often that some one looks
With eyes too soft at me, telling me –
Cruel. I don’t want to talk, and so I won’t.
I refuse to be anything but cruel to me.
I like the challenge, oh, it’s a challenge yes –
Let us go wash our hair in the sea, tell me,
Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I be anything
But cruel to me – I am driven to overcome.
Yes, I want to overcome the life I lived,
But couldn’t live. Is there not something
Beautiful, yes, and cruel, in wanting to be
Something else other than the me I’ve seen?
Lately I’ve been feeling out of it with my writing. It happens from time to time. I just haven’t been enjoying the tone that I’ve developed over the last few weeks, maybe it’s because I haven’t written this regularly in a long time and it’s spreading me thin. I like to think I get better piece by piece, but, alas, instead I usually get annoyed and feel like I write the same poem nine times. They all start to bleed together and seem… I’m not sure how to say it. They don’t read clearly for me. Anyway, my point is – I’m trying to.. move back to more solid and clearer language. I’m also not a huge fan of first person, but I suck at everything else. Lol.
Enough of the word vomit. Today’s Shadow of May asked: How do I express myself?
In the south we are taught
Hospitality is keeping to yourself
While reaching out to others, like
Cold lemonade offered in the summer.
Polite, Friendly, and just shallow enough,
Not to be intrusive, but
You would not realize it by the letters
I mix together every night and morning-
There are so many emotions that I am
Just too weak and unwilling to express.
Pen ink appears much warmer on paper
Than any ounce of forced politeness I give.
The summer is usually so warm, but this year
I have grown to love the cold,unnatural storms,
And I enjoy seeing my face in the puddles they leave.
There’s just so little time left for cold lemonade
When it storms, and sometimes it’s better this way.
You don’t need lemonade when the heavy, wet air will do.
The warm pavement, warm ink, warm everything – it hurts
And most times, I’d prefer to keep all that to myself.
Whoops! Looks like I spoke to soon last time I posted. Got hit working a tournament at work – work day changed to 7am until closing at around 12am. Only had to do it two days though, and yesterday I got off early – but then I fell asleep until just a few hours ago. Anyway, the twenty first Shadow of May question asked: How do I show hate?
My stepmother told me many things
About myself and my future, the ruin
I would be, and my father quietly watched
As I became less than his child, less human.
Just like my mother, I am just like my mother
She’d say, the woman who did such terrible things
The judge eventually broke down and gave me to my father.
Tired, I was so tired of living with all those expectations.
That was forever ago, and now I know that no one
Can hurt me like that again, I now bask in a soft hate
By telling them how well I am doing, I’m alive and I shun
Them often in this leisure life, but they find a poisoned bait-
And, Oh, How in their own hate they love to bite,
But now, how I have come to live out of pure spite.
I can’t regret it, no, I cannot regret my will to live-
I show my hate in gentle little moments I’m willing to give.
Look at this! Not late! Crazy right? I don’t know how it happened but I got it out on time – impressive since I worked all day today and didn’t get home until 10pm! Today’s Shadow of May question asked: What provokes me to anger? Why?. A very loaded question – I try not to get angry often, but when I do I am a thing possessed. Today’s piece took an interesting turn…
‘All My Worthless Anger’
I’ve been angry the day I found out
My dreams had been sold to me taxed twice
At inflated prices and interest drawn high-
Pay while you’re young enough to take a loan
And you’ll pay the price every hour you live.
I’ve been pointlessly angry at the future,
Unable to commit myself to anything, because
Because, I believe I was sold a future that failed-
I bought it under the promise, the idea, the dream
That it would get better in time, things would be fixed,
Things could be fixed.. Band-aids on the bullet holes
This terrible world is being riddled with day after day.
My worthless anger is half anxiety and half grief,
Stirred twice, poured out, mixed again and again
Until it’s more inedible than it was to begin with.
How dare I ever think I could afford to dream?
I am to blame, they taught me at fifteen, I should’ve
Know to invest in something less real and more obscene.
What is decent living, a decent life lived at minimum wage-
The world, where I stand, no longer carries such futile things.
Here is today’s Shadow of May! The prompt was: What is limiting my happiness? Why?
It’s the wait that is the worse-
Will it ever end? Longing without purpose
For Something unnamed and unexplained,
What do I want? What do I want?
I want to know, yet now I fear to know.
The wait is by far the worse thing in my life –
I’m taking my sweet, sweet time finding out.
Sorry this is so late! The last two days I’ve been working 15 hour shifts, which means when I got home I barely had the energy to draw any cards, let alone write.
Today there should be three pieces from me, though I may only get two done if I’m being honest with myself.. On the bright side, because of how much I worked the previous two days I got to have today and tomorrow off. Most of today was spent catching up on sleep..
Anyway, today’s Shadow of May questions were: What am I thinking and feeling? How is my environment?
Run away, I want to run away.
Just run away from all the little mistakes
I’ve made, like becoming a person people
All mistake me to be – so happy, so joyous.
The person I have built them to expect of me
I want it gone. I want to be free, to exist as a child,
With raw potential and hope, without anxiety –
The social expectations and implications.
It’s good to get out of your comfort zone
True, and that’s my problem, I’m here,
Static on the radio, no movement, no music.
Sometimes it’s best to leave, for sanity’s sake.
Burn your bridges when you get to them,
Set fire to your hope and dreams-
Only to pray a phoenix is born from the ashes
Singing praise for the things you left behind to grow.
I am blessed with some sort of luck.
I’ve just enough luck to pay basic bills
And feed myself five out of seven days.
It’s the little bits of mental chaos that eat at me
That consume me, the “What Should I Be’s”
The forced stability from people who were never
Young, futureless and forced to live a promised lie
About the age you were going to be happy with hard work.
So today’s Shadow of May question was “How do you express Love?”
And here is how:
Do you hear that false heart beat?
It’s mine, it’s all mine, and it hurts
To hurt them all so much. I lie. I lied.
I wanted them to love so much more than me
I wanted them to love what I could eventually be.
I express my love in forced stability,
The sterility of a false heart that beats
Silently, so perfectly – you could say it doesn’t
Ever truly beat at all. And I loved so faultlessly
False they bought it all, they fell before I could fall.
Harmoniously. I wanted every single Love I loved
To be harmonious, the sound of two hearts together
Seamlessly – I wanted instant seamlessness and I…
My Mother told me to fake it until I make it, and I…
It’s mine, only mine, that false and skipping heartbeat.
So I should probably put a disclaimer on how lame the next few poems are gonna be, because this month I’m doing the tarot challenge Shadow of May – a tarot based shadow work challenge. Shadow working is generally an exploring of feelings and habits you’d rather avoid/are a bit personally loaded. I’m not including any cards or any in depth journaling, but I will be posting the question and the resulting poem based off each days respective reading.
So disclaimer: The next month will be featuring really whinny, badly written poems. Today’s question was ‘How do you feel about the idea of Love?’
‘Endless My Love’
Gentle sigh, gentle sigh,
Gentle all the little suicides
As I’ve been waiting twenty-something years
For a storm, for a wave, for anything –
Anything real that I can touch and feel.
What is Love? What is Love to Me?
Endless patience, endless waiting, endless nothing-
Nothingness while I’m stranded in a boat on the sea.
I don’t need help, but all I need is so much help
As it’s only me – only me out on this still glass sea.
But I won’t ask, I won’t beg,
I won’t row toward humanity.
I see nothing but the sea and me, endlessly.
Though there’s nothing here, still I wait-
A gentle sigh, all the gentle little suicides
Are all I have in this great nothing of a sea.