Did I ever post my dead skunk crash out poems (if they can even be called poems)?

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@basement-tomatoes
Did I ever post my dead skunk crash out poems (if they can even be called poems)?
There’s really something to be said about the way you can no longer access the head of a company you work for. I know I’m not saying anything anyone hasn’t said before but just the simple disconnect between an employee and the one controlling the company and making the decisions that affect the workers. People used to be able to see the big boss at minimum at the annual Christmas party. It was normal to be able to communicate with different people at different levels.
There’s the separation of the worker and his work but even the separation between a lower level worker and an upper level worker, or a worker and the big shots running things, creates an environment of isolation. Only encountering people of your level or lower can create the idea of higher ups as being different, doing more important work, earning the things they do, rather than seeing them as human because you run into them on the way to get coffee from the break room or even in the lobby of the building or the parking lot. It goes the other way as well, not seeing the people that work below you casually makes it easier to not see the humanity they display in the day, it becomes easy to see them as below you and inferior.
Being able to casually see people and have little interactions is key to observing people as human and feeling a connection even if just based on proximity. Having different levels or buildings to disconnect different levels of workers in a company works to create these barriers that prevent the humanization of people working in the same company.
J.K Rowling swatted my forest
Brb I’m going to be walking through the everchanging bastardly version of a home long past. You want anything while I drown in the overwhelming waves of a life disconnected?
Hey did you know that you can write poetry?
Did you know you can write a story?
Did you know that so many true feelings can come out when you open up a sliver of your thoughts to be written?
Anyone can be a writer and anyone can be a poet, the only thing separating you from one is just doing it.
Will it always be good? No, neither are anyone else’s first drafts.
I’m sorry if you’ve been taught to believe you need some natural talent or even a type of trauma to write about
I’ll read your vent post and say I love prose, just consider an image for what you’re feeling
-a shitty poet that writes on occasion (and that’s okay)
Saw a little bird dead next to my fence,
it didn’t look visibly injured in any way but
birds don’t lay on one side with their head back like that,
it looked like it was sleeping otherwise.
I wanted to do something, anything,
but I headed to work,
maybe when I return tonight,
under the moonlight of midnight
I can do something for it, but what?
(a feeling I can’t describe but we were both living beings and it was so small)
And this song came on as I thought about it:
I wanted to give an update on this.
The bird still lay there, the moonlight was not enough to see it, I needed my phone flashlight to
find it, once I did I thought “there’s no way for me to bury this, it’s too far from the autumn leaves”,
I walked away heading for my door but paused, nothing should be left alone this way,
when my eyes rested on the bundles of purple flowers growing along the fence,
I dug my thumb nail into a stalk, hoping to break it off easily, a worthy offering for the bird’s peace,
I turned back and shined my light to find it once again, a rustle in the leaves to the left caught my attention,
“Was something coming for the bird? Was something coming for me?”, I knelt down tentatively,
The small bird could easily fit in one hand,
its plumage dark enough to mask some features, eyes almost fully closed and a mouth which went along,
despite my fear over the crunched leaves nearby, I lay the flowers on its body and had a moment,
silent and thinking some words for its peace, I asked the moon as well to provide aid,
there was fear, though, fear it would awake as I lay the bouquet, jump up and fly at me, of the mystery critter in the bush,
Saw a little bird dead next to my fence,
it didn’t look visibly injured in any way but
birds don’t lay on one side with their head back like that,
it looked like it was sleeping otherwise.
I wanted to do something, anything,
but I headed to work,
maybe when I return tonight,
under the moonlight of midnight
I can do something for it, but what?
(a feeling I can’t describe but we were both living beings and it was so small)
And this song came on as I thought about it:
Midnight walks and subjects encountered
June 29, 2:34 PM
June 29, 2:36 PM
Nun’s Island on a cloudy day
June 9, 10:17 PM
June 21, 4:19 PM
June 21, 4:20 PM
June 22, 12:41 AM
Some June photos…
May 27th 2025
Green line vibes
May 26, 2025
7:09PM
Rainy Sunday Morning
At the corner of spring.
How quickly will the plants grow now?
Will the mood be cheery of growth,
Or hollow and cold?
Last night it was spitting and misty,
How easily do we pick up other’s turn of phrase.
The mist clouded my head as I trudged home,
Mixing with the too-many thoughts to weigh them down,
Weigh me down with them, will I be okay?
But as the chickadee calls,
And the rain pitters on,
I know this won’t last and so
Best to enjoy the coming of the rain.
Micro-Solo-Adventure
I left six hours of class and the days have gotten longer so the sun was still out,
I wandered around downtown without a plan of what I wanted to do,
Just knowing I had to do SOMETHING before going home,
I walked past the bars and even went into my familiar dive bar but it didn’t last, not while the sun was still up and I was alone,
I wandered around, carrying my heavy backpack and ignoring the pain I’d had in my back for two days, ignoring how each step threatened to add a new pain in my leg joints,
I kept on straight down the main road, no knowledge of what I desired and thinking of what was around me I could use to try and fill the want in me,
The shops and the underground malls sparked nothing but negative feelings on consumption,
The fast food joints also felt discouraging, for the negativity of consumption but also knowing they are American chains,
I paused in a park, though park is a generous word for it, it is more like a block of concrete with a statue at the center and a girl nearby feeding the pigeons,
I picked out my book and read a page but this also wasn’t what I was looking for, it was cold and windy with a grey sky, it’s the type of sky that stretches the sunlight too far so you never feel its warmth but the brightness sticks around longer,
I got some semblance of a goal, if I couldn’t find what I desired I would at least reach my step goal of 10,000 steps, a goal I always struggle to meet,
I knew I was getting past the part of the road where I knew what was around, also getting past the metro stations that would bring me home, there was just one spot I knew left if I kept going this way,
A small local tea store, with tea blends and lattes made per your order, and in house pastries of all types, it’s a special gem I discovered with a friend a summer ago,
I am often indecisive but with the lack of knowing my desires I stood choosing my drink for some time, deciding on a tiger latte and quickly adding a cookie that caught my eye due to its strikingly rich cocoa colour,
I sat in the tea house waiting for my drink and realized the buzz in the store, despite its slim size almost every chair was taken by a group or pair talking and laughing together,
I let myself settle in, got my drink which was lovely though very hot, ate bit by bit of my cookie which was dark chocolate with a pistachio filling in the center, I pulled out my book and I read,
No solid goal or time limit on myself, just when I finished up my cookie and my drink had cooled enough to carry it outside, then I would naturally leave,
I ended up finishing both the drink and the cookie before departing, they filled me, not just my stomach but my soul felt uplifted,
It wasn’t a quiet moment to read to myself but it wasn’t about that, this was about being around people and being with myself and just allowing myself to be still, enjoy a treat, and feed my mind with the story,
I had more in me now to head back the way I came to the closest metro station and headed home, stopping on the way here and there, but ultimately emotionally rejuvenated despite being physically exhausted from my day.
I love winter midnights
Summer midnights, the sun never truly sets, the dull glow breaking through even the deepest hours
Winter midnights at -20 or colder but a cold unfelt, a silence enhanced by the snow and ice, and the darkest dark brings a stillness that soothes the soul
New band name:
Lying to Lesbians
Made up of all trans men
Yeah no it’s fine I’ll just go to work with the knowledge that my crush is going to be there now because she got hired at my store
I’m sure I can act normal and do my job just as well and not be distracted at all as she’s being trained and I just want her to like me
She doesn’t know how I like her (yes, this is the one who hugged me at the party)
Maybe my coffee will start to taste like yearning and my lies will make the milk shine brighter, I don’t know…