ugly words are little and small
it’s no wonder I can’t say them at all
because I thought I had everything
but it all fell apart
and what’s the worth of misery
past a small bit of art
because failure is always an option
and every story has an end
but shouldn’t some last forever
and if not, what then?
because life would be easier
if life were easy
if love were easy
and it’s not
because hearts don’t fit like puzzle pieces
four chambers, a sanctuary, a cemetery
a court room, and a cell
a drumbeat borne from hell
because words written in private
cannot always be spoken in public
and ugly feelings
inspire ugly words
but sometimes the words hold beauty
in the hearts of ugly things
the hearts of ugly people
that taste bitter on the tongue
what was better held onto
because open hands
are a sign of welcome
There is beauty in baselessness. It’s undefined, an exponential without foundation, and in the absence of definition, there is only creation. What does it mean to explore the meaningless, to make meaning from the mundane? Constructs of community and curiosity buttress the armrests of emperors. What becomes of their destruction?
Some say they wish to see the world burn; some wish to light a blaze beneath them.
Others taste the flames in search of ashes, dig through the depths to hedge the phoenix and its feathers, leave the embers in disarray as they build up the burned behemoths of history. Like Prometheus, they feel the sting of silent suffering and the teeth of consequence. They bleed not for bloodshed, but for birth.
It’s been a good while (like, I don’t know, five whole months) since I’ve shared anything here, and when I created this second branch of the Writingwolf a few years back, I never imagined I’d ever let so much time go by without sharing a single poem or short story.
Of course, I also hadn’t anticipated how time consuming being a full-time teacher and a full-time grad student would be, so the absence is, at least, somewhat understandable.
This year I want to break that silence and share more poetry, more prose, and perhaps even more art than ever before. To help me reach this goal, I’ve started a Kickstarter to create 100 handwritten postcards of poetry, prose, and art inspired by every backer.
And then, after I’ve mailed them all, I’ll begin sharing them here, to spread the joy of reading even further than that first group of 100.
More importantly, it’s an exciting way for me to connect with my readers and make something unique and special while doing it.
Please consider backing today and sharing the project with others.
Some say they reign in fire
Some say in ice
From what I’ve seen of warm desire
I hold with those who fly with fire
But if I had to choose twice
I know enough of evolution
To say I’d follow ice
Though deepest yet is the intuition
That lightning must suffice
For from the moment we are born
There is no shelter from the storm