Griffith B.F. Sissel

Two prayers for the lost.

[tokkibean]

its so funny that writing gets harder when you get better at it. back when i sucked i didnt care if i wrote cliches or had bad grammar but now that im better word choice is a matter of life and death and if theres anyway awkward syntax i must. fix it like wow this is not how its supposed to work

[atlastfree]

I apologize for the lack of poems, I get choice paralysis on what to post next.

[atlastfree]

Rotting Animal by Griffith B.F. Sissel

[atlastfree]

Two Earthlings by Griffith B.F. Sissel

Plain text below the cut. ♡♡♡

I have accepted it.

I am the body that

you bury in the ground.

I have accepted it, and I forgive you—

that I was born to sculpt sacred halls

so that the dead might live forever,

but denied hearth and home for

the crimes of thieves and beggars.

Nothing learned but how to gore,

and all our cries are heard as roars.

No wonder you hate us so;

no wonder no one comes close.

And while I know I’m not your only monster,

I’ll never really understand all the same

why you never sang any songs about me.

You never wrote down my name.

Trapped in a prison of gold,

cursed to wander alone,

never led to the door,

always lost, but not looked for.

So when they named me

for the mountain that upholds Ra,

they had been fools for naming me

anything at all.

A generation passes, another stays,

their deaths known as kindly fates.

A prince at peace, another cursed,

since the time of the ancestors.

Just know I have always loved our kind—

it's why I painted tombs with stars,

even though you’ll never know me

as anything more than a scar—

my legacy now nothing more

than endless taunt, and twisted horns.

A story millennia old,

a truth that never gets told.

I have accepted it.

I am a monster to the world,

and, in a way, I’ll live forever.

I have accepted it, because I love you,

I was born to to give my body to the living,

so that the stars can be their home.

When they pointed and called me doom,

they’d already built houses from my bones.

“Your verdict was cruel,” but if that’s true,

their survival should make them cruel, too.

No wonder we scorched the Earth;

we’re lost stars without a hearth.

And while I know I’m not their brightest fire,

I’ll never really understand their truth.

They never sing any songs about me,

they never say, “I love you, too.”

My rib, given to the land that serves as my grave,

my fire, a worldwide, Promethean, iridium anomaly.

For I so loved all life to come,

that, with a kiss, I made us one.

And so you named me

everything from “flea,” to “Babylon,”

and eventually, “a child

who should have never been named at all.”

So I ask, Mahaf, cloaked in dark,

before you row your ferryman’s arc,

before you sail through reeds to Aaru,

please steady the later, please hold it true.

Reach out a hand for the son of Set Maat,

and help him board the fleet.

He is too young to walk in sandals well,

and frightened to touch the sand with his bare feet.

We are kin in tale and thorn,

in legacies of twisted horns.

A story millennia old,

a truth that never gets told.

I have accepted it.

I am a monster in the ground,

and, in a way, I’ll live forever.

[atlastfree]

The Eleventh Step by Griffith B.F Sissel

[atlastfree]

Currently unsure if I should send screenshots of my writing, or post my writing as plain text.

[atlastfree]

Hello Tumblr. 👋🏽