e.a.nonymous

philosophy, poetry & miscelleania

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

On Hope

The only thing we have is hope,

That, I can comprehend.

We fight each day with endless strength,

Until we reach that end.

The memory of better days,

The surety of more.

It's all that's left, all that persists,

In this unequal war.

The battles we may win or lose,

The war will still remain.

But hope is everlasting too,

And so we win again.

We must recall those better days,

We must renew our joy.

Few better weapons we could find,

Or turn to our employ.

The only thing we need is hope,

That, I can comprehend.

And so we will see better days,

On that you may depend

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

The first time I

Knew

About lesbianisn

I saw a TV show

Two girls were dancing

I asked

"are they together"

And I heard

"yes'

A whole new world

Opened

So

It whispered

You don't have to love boys

You don't have to be....

You don't have to....

It took me

Longer

To see I don't have to love

Anyone

Anyone at all

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

Violence

Is never in the past

It lingers

It stains

Never fully diminishing

I will see

Him

That expletive

In court

In my life

In her life

Because

He is her son's

Father

Because

I humbled

Him

With violence returned

With violence refuted

With anger

At his

Violence

I will never be free

Of his

Anger

Returned

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Rescue and Adoption

In the heart of the fairy mound, there were two identical cradles, each with an identical infant inside.

“One of these babies is the one you bore,” said a fairy. “The other is the changeling we left. You may leave our hall with whichever child you claim as your own. Choose wisely.”

“But they are both my children,” the human mother protested indignantly.

The fairies whispered amongst themselves in surprise and confusion. At last, one asked, “How do you mean?”

“I came to get back the child you stole from me, the one who is mine by blood. I never agreed to give my adopted child back to you.”

Perhaps her words touched the fairies’ hearts; or perhaps her stubbornness impressed them; or perhaps they simply found the argument amusing, novel enough to merit a reward.

She left the fairy mound, an infant in each arm, and brought them home.

[elodieunderglass]

I don’t know why, but I think about this all the time. 

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

Mother told us we were twins, but the old folks in the village tended to stare. They seemed never to be sure of us.

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

My best friend has been staying with me for a lil bit because her ex is a dick. And we thought he was the kinda dick that throws bricks through the window and swears a lot... But turns out he's the kinda dick who smashes up your house and tries to kill you with a crowbar.

Yeah.

That was not fun... Not fun at all

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

On shock

I remember

The curve of your mouth

I remember the sound

As you

Forced

Her head into the

Wall

I remember the

Chill

Of your weapon under my

Fingers

Everything else is a

Jumble

Of sensation

And interpretation

I know my hand shook

As a dialled

Emergency

I know I

Repeated

Myself to the opperater

I know that this

Uncertainty

Will continue

Long past the point

It is

Necessary

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

On fear

I am afraid

I never thought I would be

Afraid

Of someone

I have accepted my fear

Of myself

Of society

But in specifics

No

But you

You

Expletive

Came to my house

Weapon in hand

And took that last

Barrier

Away

At this point I cannot

Determine

Whether I am

More

Afraid

Or

Angry

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

Just to let people know, I do take prompts. If you give me a word or a phrase I will write somat inspired by that. I cannot promise to be prompt (lol) with your prompts (double lol) but I will get to them eventually.

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

On exhaustion

I'm so very

Tired

Sometimes

But it feels like

Always

Bone tired

Brain tired

Just exhausted

Like

I'm permanently running on

Empty

Like

Every limb has a weight

Attatched

And still

I walk

Each foot in front of the other

For if I fall

If I stop

If I give up

No-one

Wil notice

No-one

Will care

And I will still have

Miles

To

Go

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

On self love

My self esteem has

always

Resided in

The width of my shoulders

The length of my legs

The strength of my arms

The breadth of my compassion

People

Mother father brother sister friend

Inform me it

Should

Be centred in my

Ruthless

Racing

Intellect

But that is not truely mine

I was told

You are smart

You are knowledgeable

You are wise

You will do

All

This is

Untrue

I must

I will

Believe

I am strong

I am kind

I am capable

I am no Atlas

I am no Athena

But

I will shoulder the world

I will plan my conquests

I will refuse the concessions

Granted me

I will love the way my shoulders

Stretch

Beneath the fabric of convention

Because I cannot help it

Because I would rather be

Myself

Than a thousand

Compromises

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

On realisation

My hair disappeared in

Inches

Until with one fell swoop

It left

My coincidental wardrobe

Slowly

Surely

Became a deliberate statement

My breasts went from

Unsought to

Uncomfortable to

Unwanted to

Unacceptable to

Wrong

My body went from

Incredulous to

Incomprehensible to

Incompatible to

Incredible to

Wrong

My self deception

Disappeared

I still struggle I

Suspect

I ever will

But now at least I am

Myself

For the duration of the

War

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

For that bloke at the train station

We shared your box of wine

I recited my paltry wealth of poems

Other people's words

You told me your own

You were so overlooked

By society

Your skin was too dark

Your parentage too uncertain

Your culture too brash

We walked

A small distance to a car park

I wrote my initials

On the walls

As you serenaded me

You told me my perfect recall was

Perfect

So much better than your hard won

Imagery

I have always known it is not

You swore

Without thinking

Every second word an expletive

Our world will never accept

Your words

Your skin

Your soul

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

For my friend in the wards (2)

You live

Without compromise or condition

Without surety or sanguinary

I envy your imperfect love

I miss your endless chatter

Your face

Is leaking

When I visit

Your eyes

Cry out for justice

I am so tired

Of defending you

Of justifying you

I will never give you up

But still

I am so very

Endlessly

Incurably

Tired

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

For my friend in the ward

You talk

And talk

And talk

And talk

I can see your mind reeling

You want to stop

But you cannot

You keep talking

So many falsehoods

You know they are

I see your eyes

I hear your voice

I comprehend your truth

When you say

The nurses

The doctors

They are killing me

Deliberately

You know that you are lying

You cannot stop

You cannot break

You cannot pause

You take your reality

And amplify

It

The world

Yourself

The hardest thing you can comprehend

Is that you are not dieing

Is that you are broken

Is that you are breaking

Without an end in sight

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

For the stranger I met in the park

I was smoking in the park

Alone

At night

I saw you approaching

You stood over me

You asked for my wallet

You said you had a knife

You were suprisingly polite

I laughed

I offered you a cigarette instead

You drew your knife and threatened me

I laughed

I said

My friend

Yesterday I tried to kill myself and failed

Two years ago I took some pills

Not enough

And was hospitalized

A decade ago I stood by the highway

Searching for enough

Courage

To step onto the road

My friend

I said

Do your worst

But first

Let us share a cigarette

So we did

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

For my friend

I'll never love you like fireworks

Or like molten caramel

Nor like a ballad or an epic poem

I cannot love you like a bushfire

I am incapable

Although sometime I wish I wasn't

Instead I love you like dark nights

Like sleepover whispers

Like sharing the last beer of a six-pack

Like lying on the grass in summer

Like endless conversations

I love you like I love my niblings

Like I love my dog

I love you like I love sunset and sunrise

Like I love storms,

Rain on a tin roof

The awesome pressure of thunder in the air

I love you with effort and without it

Withholding something I can never give

I love you without thinking

Without contemplation

Without reserve

I love you for your frantic speech

And your racing mind

I love you for your questing soul

For your brilliant friendship

I love you for the love you offer in return

I love you for your sweet self

For your naive outlook

For your wonderful heart

I love you for your brokeness

Because it lets you understand my own

I love you for your wholeness

Because it lets me aspire to be better

I love you

This is not a lesser love

Just different

It is the only love I have to give

And I love you

I love you

I love you

I love you

Forever

[e-a-nonymous-blog]

I work at a cat shelter, where most of the workers are volunteers, or work-for-the-dole like myself. One of the long time volunteers always wears a swastika necklace and earrings, occasionally a shirt branded with the symbol.

As background, she says she is not a Nazi, but wears the symbol in remembrance of her partner. He was a German man who lived through the war and was personally affected by it. She is an old and eccentric lady who has no family left alive.

Ever since I noticed I have been avoiding talking to her. I'm not pretending it's particularly mature, but I don't want to cause trouble and I sincerely doubt my ability to hold a civil conversation with her. I have a problem with the symbol and what it represents to the vast majority of humankind. As such I complained to the manager about her wearing the shirt, but not the jewelry, as it is relatively small and discrete, whereas the shirts are blatant (a large swastika that takes up the majority of the front of her shirts).

Today the manager took me aside to let me know that this was unacceptable. I told her that I have been avoiding the lady in question because of the afformentioned reasons. The manager informed me that this lack of communication has apparently upset swastika lady and I have been told to be on friendlier terms with her.

I do not agree with this reasoning. Nevertheless I have promised to try.

Personally I believe that whatever she intends with the swastika, whatever private symbolism it holds, she has no right to display what amounts to hate speech in a work environment. There are children who come in, there are disabled volunteers who come in, there is myself (who the Nazis would have minimum three reasons for killing), and God knows who else. Does it truely matter what she intends when the common understanding is so much in contrast to it?

She is an old and lonely woman trying to honour her long term partner after his death. I understand this. I do not understand why her distress about me not talking to her takes precedent over my distress when forced to interact with someone wearing the symbol of a group that would have gladly killed me in the past. A group that would still gladly kill me today.