Daily Card Pull – 4 of Cups – ‘Tea Apathy’

It’s been a day. A very, very chaotic day – neither good nor bad, just.. busy. Today’s card of the day was the 4 of Cups, a card warning against apathy, disconnectedness, and contemplating too much on things – an accurate warning for me today.

 

‘Tea Apathy’

Busted knuckles match the pink and red
Flowers floating on the china of my cup-
A nice honeyed cup of lavender and Earl Grey
For when my days become a little too fucked up.

It’s a nice cup, solid but never stays hot enough.
I always forget it to the point of near cold, lukewarm,
With a bitter aftertaste because I left the leaves in to burn,
Again, I left the to burn while I lost myself in another brainstorm.

Look at this cup, arching handle to meet my hand,
Blushes of flowers, stems, and leaves – a life of peace.
I’m going to make it empty, look at me as I make it empty.
Heartbeat to heartbreak, swallowing to smothering.
Watch the time lapse between the tea cooling and souring and me
Sitting apathetic to what’s inside or out, far-eyed and wondering.

 

 

If  you like my writing please check out my book Moth-Like. It can be bought on Amazon here.

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Word of the Day – Extramental – ‘Beyond Me’

So I looked at Merriam-Webster’s word of the day was Sericeous, which means ‘covered with fine silky hair’ and I honestly couldn’t think of anything. So instead I download a word of the day app on my phone and got Extramental, ‘which means existing outside the mind’ – something I could work with easily. I’ll probably be jumping back and forth between the two applications/sites so I have an option. Who knows, maybe some days I’ll use both. These words are to inspire, of course, I don’t have to use them, per say, in the poem. They just have to reference or define the word in a more creative way.

Enough with that. Today’s word was Extramental, and I have a story to tell.

‘Beyond Me’

I tried, as we all try
At somepoint at the very least
To control everything perfectly
Beyond me.

What I eat. When I eat.
The time I wake up
The time I sleep.
All simple, simple
Controllable things.

But if, say, my neighbor
Who lives two stories above me
Were somehow to not hear,
Were somehow not home to hear,
Were somehow incapable of caring to hear
Their little red sports car
Start screaming at 2am and continue
It’s naturally mindless rage
For a solid hour and a half,
Well.
I must accept that the reason ‘why’
And ‘how’ are beyond me,
Beyond my understanding-
And though murder might not be,
It is considered highly impolite.