#SummerComer #PoetryChallenge Entry #6: Humanity is Measured Not in Hate But in Kindness


Hi again.

When you find this post, I will have scheduled it the day before. Or, the evening before, more so. Regardless, here is the sixth entry into this Poetry Challenge that I’ve made for myself.

Enjoy!

PS Here is last “week’s” post.


What are the RULES?

  • each post begins with the thumb above
  • each poem will be individually titled and labeled by the entry number in both the piece itself (at the end) and in the title
  • each post will include any background music used to “set the mood” which will be listed at the end of the entry
  • each poem loosely exists within the context of summer but is not strictly limited in constructing that imagery. I.e. it’s a summer project but may venture outside of that topic/theme-wise. 🙂
  • the goal: one poem each week from the end of May to the start of September under the hashtag: #SummerComer

Humanity is Measured Not in Hate But in Kindness

it was somewhere

along the way

that they

didn’t

have the heart

to say ‘No.’

it was some place

along the trail

that they

didn’t

have the strength to

bark back ‘Please.’

it was in some manner

where the sun

sparkled through the trees

that they struggled

with the courage

resting in their breast

to say “Stop.”

there was something in the way

that the moonlight

glittered on the ocean front

that made their experience

quantify into thousands of

insects’ wings fluttering up

into a cacophony of sound,

the air vibrating with their pressure,

the breath of life that leaked

from their open mouth

spun into kaleidoscopes as they

shouted from the ground,

“Let me free!”

the sticky, black goo

that rose from the tarmac

threatened to take their

existence from them,

but they were strong,

they were holding on tight,

and they never backed down,

grumbling out instead,

“Try to take me,

And you’ll fail.”

The goo transformed,

turning to a face that

they recognized

as painful,

but still they reiterated,

“Try to scare me,

And you won’t win.”

Their expression was harder now,

softer in some respects,

and their blue eyes flashed

with purpose.

“Try to take me,” they uttered with

a voice as strong as Plexiglas.

“I’d like to see you try.”

The goo changed again,

curling its tendrils around their legs,

legs rooted to the ground in a

steadfast position.

The goo curled them into a tight hug,

but they weren’t afraid any longer,

instead they smirked and said,

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

The goo hissed and moved to strangle them,

and they laughed instead,

pulling away easily and

humming to themselves,

“Your weakness baffles me.”

They narrowed their eyes at the

monstrosity before them.

“You’ve fought wars

and sought out pain,

yet here you are,

incapable of taking me down.

Do you know why?”

The intensity sparked further in their eyes,

just as they began to remove their arms,

stretching the goo’s material

as it cried out in discomfort.

“Because I am Loved.

Because I am Worthy.

Because I am Arose in Purpose.

Because I am Faith.

Because I am More.

More than you’ll ever be,

And when I struggle for breath,

When I fade in the dying light,

I’ll still be Strong,

I’ll still know my Worth,

Because unlike you,

I don’t need to tear people

Down in order to shine brighter.”

They grasped the creature’s limbs

in tight, closed fists.

“You can come back for me,

And you will,

But I’ll win again,

Because I have strength,

I have power,

I have unlimited potential

Compared to you.”

They tilted their head slightly,

the intensity in their stare never

wavering.

“But I won’t kill you,

I won’t destroy you.

Because I know what that’s like too.

So I will help you,

I will uplift you,

And I will heal you,

Because that is what you need.

And if you refuse to change,

If you refuse to become better,

Then I will let you go.

Because even you deserve not to be

Hindered.

Even you deserve freedom.”

The ghost of a smile

Lit up their features as they

Pushed down the creature,

Back into its small pocket

Upon the floor.

“It takes more love to treat

Those who crave it,

But aren’t aware of it,

Than it does to easily

Spill apart hate.”

They dusted off their palms,

The ashy hue left upon their

Fingerprints

And as they did so,

As they did,

Their spirit sparkled and they said

Lowly,

“I’ll trust in you,

Even when you don’t in me.

Because that’s the biggest

Difference between us:

You hate, you destroy, you crave power

and I am loved, I create and I

already exist powerfully.”

They slid a lone finger down the side

Of the aching creature’s face,

“And all you needed was the same.

And I’m sorry you didn’t receive it.

For I am here if you change your mind,

But tearing down others to

Build yourself up,

Is not the way.”

They sighed, lightly.

“Maybe one day you will see that.

For now, I will hold onto it for you.”

They began to walk away, but not before

Saying over their shoulder,

“I’ll be back for you at a later date,

And I will hope for you

And dream for you,

What you never dared to dream for yourself.

Rest easy, my dear.”

A torched piece of parchment

Flew free from their hand

And fell down near the shadow’s

Skin,

Etched upon its surface were the words:

Spreading kindness in a world of hate

Lifts all souls that deserve no such fate.

For humanity is measured not in which

All there is light, but rather when there exists much fight.

And no matter what cost,

What they engender must be no less than crossed.

For it is not only how a person acts within a crowd,

But the way they act alone and proud.

Forgiveness is a force that can only be decided

By those at war,

Who crave more,

Who desire a roar.

And at the end of the night,

They can only choose to shine bright.

Because where there is dark in light,

There is light in night,

And they, too, shall never lose sight.

Technical Aspects of the Poem:

Written and Edited: 6/26/2020

Mood Music: “Where the Shadow Ends” by BANNERS ft. Young Bombs


About the Poem: Kinda thinking of Kill Monger and T’Challa in “Black Panther” (2018) along with other related types of events occurring in the world and just having a creative spirit birthed this poem. I’m not sure if it even makes much sense (and I’ve tried my best rewriting/rewording some parts to make more sense, but I still can’t tell ahaha) but it’s what I got for this week and so that will have to be enough. Also, I’ve been doing a lot more lower cased poetry which isn’t something that I would do a lot of in the past, just an interesting thing. I tried to keep the change when our narrator they started talking more and their confidence grew and so the stylistic choices changed as well to match that. But yeah, let me know what you think!! Thank you so much for reading and feel free to share this work along with my others! Stay safe. xxx

#SummerComer #PoetryChallenge Entry #5: Rooted in Recuperation| [LATE POST]


Hi again!

I apologize for the lack of posting on here the last two weeks and not getting up a proper post explaining myself even now. I’ve been trying to write a post called “Off the Map” to explain my absence and what I’ve been up to (including a mini haul) but it just sat open in a tab on my laptop for an entire week and I couldn’t bring myself the motivation or inspiration or attention span to properly write it, edit it and then upload it. So, here we are.

I also forgot about this weekly poetry challenge until I remembered it going into work on Saturday which was particularly disorienting and unfair. I was able to write THIS post during my shift but I definitely would have preferred to have done it earlier in the week and not have missed an entire week’s worth of content.

But alas, here it is…. I hope you enjoy it as it was a bit of a vent piece with some of my emotions and also a creative endeavor towards the middle and end. Also, here are the rules for this challenge REAL quick:


What are the RULES?

This is the late fifth entry in my #SummerComer #PoetryChallenge launching from the end of May 2020 to the beginning of September 2020. More rules include:

  • each post begins with the thumb above
  • each poem will be individually titled and labeled by the entry number in both the piece itself (at the end) and in the title
  • each post will include any background music used to “set the mood” which will be listed at the end of the entry
  • each poem loosely exists within the context of summer but is not strictly limited in constructing that imagery. I.e. it’s a summer project but may venture outside of that topic/theme-wise. 🙂
  • the goal: one poem each week from the end of May to the start of September under the hashtag: #SummerComer

Let me know down below in a comment or on my other social media what you thought of this poem and its message!! Or if you’d like to see a particular theme, prompt or character name/location, leave that in the comments too! I will soon be writing up the post and scheduling it for tomorrow for the sixth week of Summer Comer (which I just wrote freshly a few moments ago). Also if you want to see the 4th week’s entry: here it is.

Thank you so much for reading and see down below for both the poem and any notes regarding it. I plan to be blogging again soon and giving you guys a proper update on my life and the happenings going on behind the scenes. Check out my Youtube channel if you want to see what I’m getting up to these past two weeks of immense creativity!! Sending you all the best. xxx


Rooted in Recuperation

basked in

the aftermath,

he follows

 

his spirit

trodden

and his psyche

unraveling

 

with resignation

he sighs:

 

it had been a long day.

 

and he grew tired.

sometimes it was just

how he had awaken

and other times from

precipitating events.

 

today he had grown older,

but feeling none the wiser.

 

it happened,

like this,

sometimes.

 

all he could do

was muster up

his strength

and burrow hope

deep within his bones,

treating himself like the

large, deep oak tree’s roots

that had planted itself

into his memories

as a young child.

 

oh, how he had climbed

its branches–

clambering over the bark,

sneakers losing grip

and trails of the tree’s flesh

skidding off and onto his

caramel skin.

 

he had loved that tree—

loved it more than his own

dysfunctional family.

 

but that’s what they were

at the end of the day:

family.

 

family had its misgivings,

family had its problems

and his had had a few share

of them,

but in the end

he loved them

he had grown with them

and they had learned

to do the same for him.

 

so as he sat

on the edge of

his white mattress,

the covers stripped away

as if he had been

shielding himself from

the dark tendrils

of the world,

he closed his eyes

and the sky that laid behind them.

they filled with pain and

a nagging sense of wonder,

a plethora of encouragement

and a passion

so deep that he wanted–

needed–

to try again tomorrow.

it curled into him tightly,

snuggling into his shoulders

and breathing a new sense of

purpose to his lungs.

so much so that

when the moon fell from

the sky and the sun

rose again,

he tried and tried all over

restarting from where he was

until one day,

he was certain of it,

he’d make things right.

Technical aspects of the poem:

Written and Edited: 6/20/2020


About the Poem itself: This poem, as I mentioned earlier, happened on my Saturday work shift when I was having an extremely off day and things were weighing on me heavily. I wrote this between hygiene time and when I was on the other side of the cottage at the end of the night, trying to edit it down to make more sense. I used a different narrator and had some creative spells with it so I hope it’s nice and I hope that you managed to enjoy it in some manner! Just like anything else, I too shall rise. Hopefully tomorrow’s shift is even better! 🙂

Thank you so much for reading.

I’ll be writing up the post for this week’s poem soon.

Stay safe. xxx ❤ ❤ ❤

#SummerComer #PoetryChallenge Entry #4: Do Not Make This Funeral Her Home

Hello there and welcome back to another poetry related blog post!!! I apologize for disappearing off the face of WordPress the last few weeks, I’ve been busy being forgetful and often procrastinating on my adult responsibilities, having lack of motivation at times, an otherwise glum type of mood or pretending like certain things don’t exist if I preoccupy myself with something else in the mean time, so, you know, the usual. 😉

I wrote today’s entry’s poem a couple of days ago as you’ll see noted down below, and I pulled from a few different elements which I’ll get into after I paste it all here. Overall, my life’s been all right and I’m happy to have been able to reconnect with some online friends of mine, starting back up where we left off which has been amazing and very heartwarming and rewarding. I have a few other messages I have to attend to soon, a book to finish somehow and in some manner, tweets to make and a couple of emails to write up. I’ve been trying to do some fanfic related reading and messages too so there’s also that. There will be a few new blog related posts to come into fruition soon as well. For now, let’s start off the end of this week with the poetry challenge!!!


QUICK! WHAT ARE THE RULES?

This post marks my fourth entry into the weekly Summer Comer poetry challenge I’ve made for myself to last from the end of May 2020 to Sept 4th 2020. The rules include:

  • each post begins with the thumb above
  • each poem will be individually titled and labeled by the entry number in both the piece itself (at the end) and in the title
  • each post will include any background music used to “set the mood” which will be listed at the end of the entry
  • each poem loosely exists within the context of summer but is not strictly limited in constructing that imagery. I.e. it’s a summer project but may venture outside of that topic/theme-wise. 🙂
  • the goal: one poem each week from the end of May to the start of September under the hashtag: #SummerComer

Let me know what you think of this week’s poem down in the comments! (And as for how I was feeling last week, I’m a lot better and I was able to do some fanfic writing that helped get out of my sexual frustrations ahaha.)

And if you want to help support my mission with this poetry challenge, leave me a prompt, theme or character name/subject you’d like to see me cover and I’ll incorporate something in and give you a shout-out, too!!! ❤ ❤ ❤ Stay tuned until the end to hear my process of this poem, what song I listened to and all that jazz. 🙂 Also here is last week’s entry if you want to reread it!


Do Not Make This Funeral Her Home

Trigger Warning: Grief, loss, death

 

One day,

he knew

the sparkle would

return to her eyes,

the sunlight that

wafted down from

the thick leaved treetops

would part through her

blonde hair as alive and well

as she had been.

 

In the summer night glow

he’d smell her favorite perfume

again,

and he’d hear the shrill

whine in her voice as

she called his name,

“Tyler!

Tyler!”

growing louder and louder

as her heart sang and her

voice rose to the clouds

up above.

 

Her laughter would turn his

insides to goo. He’d be

swinging his head back to meet her,

chuckling as his brown hair

met the rays of iridescence.

 

And it would feel like someone

had planted rainbows in his chest

and his heart would flutter

in anticipation and just as he

was turning towards her—

it would have happened.

 

the truck came barreling

out of nowhere and

his face had enough time

to contort into horror and

he just managed to see

Madeline’s eyes twitch in

confusion as her slim brows

rose in question

before a thunderous roar

escaped and

somewhere between heaven

and Earth,

their shouts and formless

words were blinded by the

truck’s horn and

in the flicker of a second

everything he had once

cared about was

obliterated into nonexistence.

 

He’d thought there’d be

more time.

He’d only wanted

more time.

 

More time to:

hug her,

love her,

cherish her,

need her,

want her,

build a life

together

with her,

carry her,

dream with her,

be–just simply be–

with her.

 

But some dreams shatter

and some fates

are just

not meant to be.

 

So with a mournful look,

he watched as she was

laid to rest–

a rest he couldn’t

fathom would be easy.

 

She had so much left to do,

so much left to change

and impact

and he couldn’t understand

why her life would be taken

instead of…

instead of…

another’s?

His?

 

His.

 

She’d wanted only

the best in life

and it should have been

a sin to take away

such a radiant beam

when the world was

only growing dimmer

and darker by the second.

 

He knew he had

to make a change,

take a stand,

have something be

different

because Madeline Cross

had been alive

and existing once on

this planet.

 

And now that she

wasn’t–someone

had to know what

they were all missing

out on.

 

So he spent months working upon

awareness and reading

agonizingly boring

books on law and

legislation until he

found the way for the

city to commemorate

her death and

build not only a

memorial walkway

where Madeline

lost her life,

a guard rail

to better seclude the

nature trail and install

a stoplight to further

separate the rough framework

between nature and

manmade civilization.

 

And for a while it

eased the ache left

inside his heart

but it didn’t all go

away,

he was pained instead

with a loss so deep he

had no plan on how

to mold or change it.

 

So he didn’t.

 

He mourned.

 

And when he thought

it was over,

it returned again–

until one day

he was out on the

sandy beach,

watching the tide

come in and fade

and he felt her–

he felt Madeline–

take his hand and

squeeze and if he

wasn’t mad,

he heard her giggle and

he heard her say,

“It’s all right, Tyler.

It’s okay to let me go.”

 

Because now he knew

he never really would

and their relationship and

her loss would shape him

and refold him

for all the time and

years he had left.

 

He couldn’t control how

much time Madeline had–

and he certainly

couldn’t control his–

but it was time for him

to move through his

grief–not as a destination

rather a process,

a journey.

 

So when the salty air

pricked the tears

forming in his eyes,

he let himself go,

and he wasn’t surprised

to find all of himself

 

still. there.

Technical aspects of the poem:

Handwritten: 6/11/2020

Typed and Edited: (any minor spelling errors resulted from the typing up portion, in case you find any lingering flaws) 6/12/2020

Music: “Where the Shadow Ends” by BANNERS ft. Young Bombs. Train ambiance also used in the writing process.


About the poem itself: This is honestly the first true original characters/setting poems that I’ve done in a very long time and it was incredibly refreshing and helpful to just take a moment in the pause between my reading a book (of which many frustrations arose) and just create again. It was really, really nice. There wasn’t really much I was upset about but I could use what I learned from the grief book I’m reading as well as tossing in some images I could relate to (for instance, the truck accident made me imagine that scene in “Pet Sematary” the original movie) in addition to some sad news I found out about a friend of mine. It all just wrapped together well and like I’ve already said, it was nice and soothing and I felt calmer after I had written it. I’d had vibes earlier in the week but it was nice to sit down and just let it all flow and see where it would go.

For the title I thought of “Funeral homes” and how that shouldn’t be Madeline’s home and so the title is a call to how we have to learn to move forwards and through our grief rather than expecting it to come and go in expected, structured manners. That her home, or anyone’s home, isn’t in the death and casket or urn itself but her life was the home all along, instead. It’s a way of remembering her and finding justice and peace in her untimely death, it’s a way of trying to make her life have meaning and have her leave behind a positive legacy. It’s also all about the relationship and attachment that happened prior and the end of the relationship isn’t really the end, it’s just a new normal so to speak. Again, when I do this book review on GIAJ this theme will make more sense.

PS In my mind, both Tyler and Madeline were in their mid to late teens. 🙂

Any who, that’s it for me for now!!!

I hope to have much more posts in the coming weeks and to find ways to motivate myself again and finally finish this book!!!

Thank you so much for reading!!! Stay safe! xxx ❤ ❤ ❤

#SummerComer #PoetryChallenge Entry #3: Of Love and Deep Kneaded Validation


I am feeling a bit off and this week’s poem captures it well. Maybe it’s creative, maybe it’s fiction, or maybe it’s creative nonfiction. Whatever it is I need it to be out of me without being so “obvious.” (Or maybe entirely obvious).

Regardless,

Check out last week’s entry here.

And then check out the rules spit fired at you down below to rejuvenate your memory!!

Quick! WHAT ARE THE RULES?

  • each post begins with the thumb above
  • each poem will be individually titled and labeled by the entry number in both the piece itself (at the end) and in the title
  • each post will include any background music used to “set the mood” which will be listed at the end of the entry
  • each poem loosely exists within the context of summer but is not strictly limited in constructing that imagery. I.e. it’s a summer project but may venture outside of that topic/theme-wise. 🙂
  • the goal: one poem each week from the end of May to the start of September under the hashtag: #SummerComer

Of Love and Deep Kneaded Validation

Trigger Warning: sexuality, sex, coming out, gay, derogatory references, self-harm, black lives matter (and you are so very loved)

her skin felt like

it was on fire.

like bugs were digging deep

beneath her flesh,

burrowing holes deep

into the tissues of her

organs.

 

a bad taste resolved to be in her

mouth,

metallic and thick,

like dried blood,

coagulated.

 

she only wished to be herself,

she only wished to love

another woman.

 

but the temptations,

the judgments,

the outsider opinions,

was flooding her system,

making her retreat backwards,

feel small,

feel infinitely

…. tiny.

 

she hated it.

she resented it.

but she still wasn’t sure,

so maybe,

maybe she thought,

it was for the best.

 

she just wanted to be herself,

in a world otherwise

cruel and indecent,

abusive and toxic.

 

but she wanted to shout from

the rooftops

the truth she felt

deep in her soul,

and still she was silenced.

brought into submission.

 

not that she couldn’t discover

who she was

or get support from

others who traveled the same road.

 

unfortunately,

it felt insurmountable:

this idea of coming together

face to face with others

who have struggled,

who have been unaccepted,

who have been attacked

and hated for what and who

they are.

 

but where they existed,

she knew not.

 

sure, she could find out,

but being online prominently

was more comfortable,

even though the cruelty

was more ever present.

 

it was harder to be called

a fag who should rot in hell

in person

than from behind a screen.

 

and still she was told,

told she fears,

that other people won’t accept her,

that other people won’t validate her,

and for whatever reason,

she felt deeply,

that she wanted to be validated,

she wanted to be supported

and she wanted to be inspirational

and moving and loved,

she didn’t know why though,

why she wanted this from strangers.

 

what wasn’t she getting at home?

what wasn’t she facing in her

everyday life?

why did she need to be wrapped

tight in bubble wrap?

why did she take things so personally?

why couldn’t there be an end

to all the suffering?

 

all she wanted,

yearned for,

needed,

was another woman,

to love:

to care for:

to be present with.

 

but how could she find them in

such a small town?

in limited resources?

in hard times?

 

she wasn’t ready for a relationship yet,

nothing romantic,

but it felt so lonely,

so alone

to be a young woman navigating

the world through the lens of

a broken china doll.

 

she couldn’t go towards her familiars,

her family,

with certain “personal” matters–

sex or repulsion,

dating or masturbation–

and these ate away at her

day by day,

unsure where she fit in,

her world collapsing

her frame of reference

dwindling.

 

where was she now?

who was she now?

where did things go from here?

and could she ever make it

out of here again?

could she ever find herself

a strong,

beautiful,

inspirational,

brave black woman

to love?

because she was drawn to them,

she imagined and she drew of them

for years,

envisioning this amazing

and wonderful black woman

out there in the world,

(would there even be many left

when the injustices slaughtered

them from this earth?)

careening through the ocean’s grace,

searching for her, too,

searching.

 

could she?

 

the answer didn’t

come clearly.

 

it never did.

Technical Aspects of the poem:

Entry #3: #SummerComer

Written: 6/5/2020

Mood Music: “Where the Shadow Ends” by BANNERS ft. Young Bombs


Hopefully I will feel better again soon. I may take some time offline to deal with my issues. I have TONS of blog posts that I can do and am trying to manage. Some will come out next week instead, unfortunately. I may try and read a book too. There’s one I really have to finish. So, I’ll keep busy and play some games too.

I apologize that I’m as off as I am now. Twas an odd family therapy session. I am down but I will not give up. I guess I’ll figure things out in time.

Hope you’re faring better than me right now.

I’m open to messages or comments if you are.

Stay as safe as possible out there, especially my black friends. Thinking of you and sending you so much strength, love, hugs and light. xxx ❤ ❤ ❤

Thank you for reading.

(I may even do some fanfic to be honest)