Recurring Nemesis

shadow

Image source: Google

Recurring Nemesis

He was nonchalant, dismissive, scornful

of me. Always has been, from our first meeting

way back before memory. His visits

leave me fitful, restless, waking in a

 

frightful sweat, but only when I force my

release from his domineering grip. Or

perhaps only when he releases me

out of boredom and acute disgust.

 

He visited me last night, as he has

many nights before. Though I don’t recognize

him, he is oddly familiar. His smug smile

lives in every bully who has ever

 

toyed with my meekness. His unforgiving glare

is in every bystander who ever

had their doubts of my abilities proven

by observing me fail spectacularly.

 

He is strong, masculine, fit, handsome, and

firmly confident, but just short of being

obscenely so; he is everything I’m not,

but wish I were. He is kind to every

 

other soul inhabiting my mind, but

exceptionally cruel to me, and only

on exceptionally cruel whims that seemed

to instinctively align with when I

 

was at my lowest, most vulnerable

moments. He openly mocks my appeals

to his reason, decency, and empathy,

targeting my darker nature, the part

 

of me I try to ignore, compartmentalize,

and starve to death. He ignites something

primal in me, strutting away from the

embers floating around the tinderbox.

 

I feel my evolved sensibilities

burn away, leaving only the cruelest

intentions hooking themselves into my limbs;

if he approaches me once more, I know

 

there won’t be anything left of me to

reason with. And this fills me with a

primal joy that frightens me. I know that

if he invades my space again, if he

 

seeks to belittle me with a face slap

or an ill-advised shove, the three-strike

combination I have chambered for him

won’t simply be warning shots to get him off me.

 

They won’t be angry, bleary, wild lashes;

they’ll be highly-focused nitro-glycerin-

fueled blockbusters designed to take his smug smile

on his arrogant head right the fuck off

 

of his fucking shoulders. I would lean in,

attempting to channel those three strikes into

punching and kicking him out of existence.

He smirked and moved in my direction, just

 

as I envisioned. As he entered range

and readied a dismissive slap for me,

I released every ounce of rage from my

left fist, followed immediately by

 

my right fist and a left front-thrust kick just

for kicks. All three blows landed with great, lush

satisfying thuds, evaporating him

from my dream, throwing me into the harsh

 

reality of morning sunlit skies,

punching, kicking tangled blankets and air.

Immediately, I felt dread, for it

wasn’t my fancy words that had prevailed,

 

but my violent nature that I had tried

to deny for so long. Disoriented

and ashamed, I tried to regulate my

breathing, eventually cracking an

 

ironic smile because right or wrong, I

finally got that bullying bastard.

***

 

 

 

 

Enemy of Delusion

Boondocks Spring

Image source: GoComics

Enemy of Delusion

Small talk is a dishonest

and barely varnished lie

I walk in and demolish

the scarcely garnished try

 

and then I’m the bad guy

defend my unclad

psychotic truth,

my ironic pursuit

of uncouth certainties

 

but you’re hurting me

by not paying fair

and laying bare

when we both see

inequities

 

and then you say

you don’t see our color

with respect to political cover,

 

correctness when I reflect

on your blindness

I’d rather you select

Kindness

** *

Written for imaginary garden with real toads FASHION ME YOUR WORDS TO FOLD ~ Ergo, imagined By Gillena Cox . We were challenged to write based on our discovery of ourselves in a Peanuts comic, or a comic strip of our choice. Obviously, I chose the young black revolutionary, Huey Freeman, because of couse I did. 🙂

Drawing a Blank

Drawing a Blank

Drunken-lotus when I wrote this

I’m chokin’ on my brokenness

hopein’ against hopelessness

woke and I was scopin’ this

 

truth in our reality, ponderin’

where should I be, wonderin’

calamity, astonishment

at query of accomplishments

 

this verse is dumbfounded and

this verse is dumbfounded and

I curse this unfounded and

Herculean logician canned

 

Olympian delusions

many eons and no solutions

egocentric push got me listenin’

to Kendrick’s Kush and Corinthians

 

cramming solutions to the feat

in the fetal position, repeated

achievement unsaid and unlocked

dragging myself out of bed when I block

 

all the straggling self-hate that says

 

this poem is a lie to self

this poem says goodbye to health

throw him evil-eye yourself

this poem is a cry for help

 

help, help, help, help

 

I added melodrama here

so you could save what’s left

 

even the Dali Lama fears

nature of life bereft

 

an empty diorama, years

neglected and distressed

** *

Written for imaginary garden with real toads Literary Excursions with Kerry ~ Metafiction.

Electric Lemonade

Electric Lemonade

Cobalt blue,

hollow, cool,

like our intent,

pooling where we spent

 

lingering, luminous pale,

shimmering midnight ocean foam,

shivering, eyes roam till we connect

synchronize, blush, genuflect,

analyze, flush with respect to the

backbeat of our pulse,

our vibe rides the same tide,

 

our notion cuts through oceans

of cacophonic commotion,

our motion, linked,

intuitive emotion,

 

we sink to the depths

of unmentionable dimensions

where the only apprehension is if

one of us misreads the queues,

shifting the hue to red or

what’s been read before,

 

your head backspins,

eyes headed towards the door,

arched eyebrow sending subliminals like

 

“What you waitin’ for?”

anything but blue

bebop

Image source: Google

anything but blue

you swept into my life

with an artist’s palette knife

slicing my grey in two

 

my painted canvas sang

pastel colors’ bold harangue

in anything but blue

 

you found me on blind chance

random dance of happenstance

accidentally on-cue

 

twirling on twilight

transmuting our moonlight

to anything but blue

 

you showed me seasons of our joyful heart

and I breathed you deeply within me

if I had reason why we fell apart

I could freefall from where you pinned me

 

where did you go

when leaving me undone?

cruel indigo

our nights obscure my sun

 

when did you know

you would flee our harmony?

how was our artistry

discarded so artlessly?

 

I still sing out your name

sullen embers of our flame

for the love that we once knew

 

water-colored tears shed

scattered prismed wake misread

as anything but blue

Julia

***

Collecting the Toll

garak

Image source: Google

Collecting the Toll

What’s that, you say?

You’re ready to confess, are you?

 

Oh, my dear man,

you must’ve confused me

for someone else.

 

There’s no need for that stuff.

I know your vile sin all too well.

That’s why I’m here

 

smiling over your broken body, after all.

 

In fact, had you not

picked my kin to prey on,

you wouldn’t be bowed before me

praying for mercy I’m ill-fit to offer.

 

But that’s the dirty trick, isn’t it?

They’re all my kin, all worthy of

gentle respect you denied her.

 

Like you, I won’t be gentle.

 

Hell, you might’ve even gotten away

clean, virtuous and intact

had you abstained from your perverse lust

and craven need to rip through consent,

admittance neither given nor heeded,

but entry forced, vandalized,

left in pieces, droppings left by some

repugnant, lecherous litterbug.

 

And so, here we are, you and I,

together one last time

before I send you on ahead

to be judged by the Other Guy.

 

She will never be the same.

Your fate will be far worse.

 

Oh, my dear lad,

but of course I’m

going to hell too.

 

An eye for an eye,

and whatnot and so-forth.

 

But unlike you,

I have manners,

so, you first, sir.

 

And there you go again

with all that

mercy and forgiveness talk.

 

I fear that I’m fresh out of that stuff.

 

I wonder if my kin screamed out similarly

as you parted her knees

and had your way with her.

 

I imagine she lacked a vocabulary

macabre enough to adequately describe

or protest against the criminal

things you did to her,

 

but oh, how many more decibels

you’ll shatter in tenfold retribution

for her terrified shrieks

that went unanswered!

 

And suffer you will, my man!

Just as she did, just as I am suffering

at this very moment, for there is no mercy

for you, only justice, dispensed by yours truly

with a smile, and I promise you that

 

your suffering shall be put to a swift end

just as soon as my pain ends.

See how fair and just that is?

 

I should warn you though;

watching my kin weep at

what amounted to a viscous force of nature

answerable to nothing but your own ill nature

has left me in a catastrophic amount of pain.

 

This… could take a while.

** *

I know the tone is disturbing, but this poem wasn’t born in a vacuum. My friend trE wrote a harrowing poem on her blog that resonated with me and should resonate with everyone. You should check it out.

I debated sharing this one, but trE encouraged me to do just that.

via Paying The Price — a cornered gurl

Day 30 – This Poem is not a Poem

jeremy-bishop-225533

Image source: Unsplash.com

This Poem is not a Poem

This stanza’s not a masterpiece

This stanza’s not a golden fleece

This verse is not a tribute to dead parents who raised me

This verse cannot contribute to treaded paths dreamt amazing

 

This stanza won’t shake Mt. Olympus from its mythos

This stanza won’t make an ambitious bum less vicious

This verse won’t disperse the curses from my broken heart

This verse won’t traverse the forces forcing us apart

 

This stanza’s not a blueprint for earning Osiris’ favor

This stanza’s not a movement for learning from misbehavior

This verse was the penultimate one, earning no solace

This verse is an obstructionist, returning to lawless

 

This stanza is the end of a missive with no fulfillment

Bonanza of fool’s gold, omissive in truth’s distilment

This verse is the penultimate, returned to souls porous

Reversing the discourse can’t be earned with no chorus.

** *

Thanks for hanging with me through this year’s NaPoWriMo. See you next year, same bat-time, same bat-channel.

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Day 29 – Widow’s Bay at Sunset

mUSASHImIYAMOTO

Image source: Google

Widow’s Bay at Sunset

“Turn back, dear heart,”

said the young spear-wielder

to her warrior lover.

The setting sun bathed her in ethereal pastels,

giving her the air of a beautiful archangel,

standing on the path

between the warrior and the bay below.

She continued carefully,

perfectly articulating each of her next words,

hoping to drive them home for effect.

“I must confess; I have deceived you.

I’m no bodyguard; I am an assassin.”

 

“I know,” the warrior replied,

slowly reaching for the hilt to his sword,

sunset enveloping his

tormented countenance in silhouette.

“And I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

But across the bay lies my lost father,

and answers to questions

that have driven my lifelong ambitions.

You and I have fought side-by-side

and shared much until now.

You’ve seen my heart,

and you know I cannot turn back.

Why betray us now?”

 

“Oh, how I’ve dreaded this moment,

my love,” said the spear-wielder

with a mild quiver in her voice,

deliberately lowering the tip of her weapon

to bear-down on the warrior,

widening her stance for balance. “And yes,

I’ve seen your heart and offered you mine

in quieter moments.

I know you cannot turn back.

But I have a sworn duty to eliminate

anyone who gets too close to the truth.”

 

“Sworn duty?” The warrior’s voice rose

and shook incredulously. “To whom?

Who sent you?”

 

“If you set foot on that cove,

the Syndicate will find out,

and it will be over for you, me,

and everyone else close to me.”

The spear-wielder spat those words

like rancid milk.

“Please,” she hissed,

almost in a shout-whisper. “Turn back.

We can run away together,

start a new life.

No one else has to die,

no one would know- “

 

“I would know!” yelled the outraged warrior,

now in mid-crouch. “Now please! Stand aside!

Forget your bounty, your duty

and I will forget your betrayal!

I promise I will protect you and your family

when this is over.”

 

“You know you cannot!”

the spear-wielder shouted back,

gathering better footing.

Then, much softer,

“You know I cannot.”

 

The air between them slowly faded

from sepia to soft fuchsia as

blackbirds returned to tree lines

to roost for the night.

Even the evening breeze paused to contemplate

the star-crossed combatants’ predicament.

 

“I am most regretful

that it must come to this,

dear heart,”

conceded the warrior,

the grip on his hilt now firm, resolute,

the fire of outrage in his eyes giving way

to misplaced compassion

and the near-perfect serenity

of pre-combat Zen.

 

“As am I, my beloved,”

the spear-wielder wearily replied,

twirling her weapon, brandishing it,

coiling into an attack stance,

she, a reluctant cobra,

preparing to battle the only man

she ever loved enough to die for

to the death.

“Don’t hold back.”

 

“Oh, how I loved you so,”

the warrior lamented,

drawing his sword.

 

“That is a lie,”

the spear-wielder said

with a morbidly-amused sneer.

“You still do.”

 

The calamity of their weapons meeting at near-dusk

roused roosting birds from surrounding tree lines.

** *

Written for imaginary garden with real toads Penultimatums: Voyages’ End (Almost), imagined by Brendan.

Day 26 – Why I Suck at Physics

worthy-of-elegance-6723

Image source: Unsplash.com

Why I Suck at Physics

Ruefully, I inhale lavender,

knowing it’s physically impossible

to inhabit her space simultaneously.

 

Still, I’d be most grateful

to rebreathe her air,

exchanging molecules

like the yin-yang symbols,

with a smearing of her bird-winged light

inhabiting my darkness,

and a drizzle of my unruly dusk

dwelling upon her rising mornings.

 

When I wanderlust,

it isn’t always about wandering,

not the journey nor the destination,

and that last part is a lavender-laced lie

as she is the journey’s end

I crave exploring most,

the waypoint where yearning removes its coat,

unpacks, and settles in as longing unfurls,

curling into her,

straining sinew

to rewrite our laws of physics.

***

via Photo Challenge: Wanderlust

 

Day 25 – Universal Truth

john-towner-159744

Image source: Unsplash.com

Universal Truth

Crust moves, Earth-grooves, Jurassic pace

orbiting, spinning, winning annual race

sun streaks along axis, galactic arm

Milky Way hurtles away

from its collective farm

 

Infinite universe expands

under universal demand

I land on my back, dreamland,

earthbound in my remand

knowing nothing’s ever still.

** *

My second still poem for dVerse Quadrille #31, hosted by Grace. I normally try not to go to the same well twice in a row during NaPoWriMo, but I’m sapped for ideas. I’m running on fumes and limping to the barn, but racking my brain is helping with my depression a bit, and I think I can make it to the end! Five more, people!

Drop by and check out everyone’s contributions to this prompt.