The Author is Dead.

--

[newmansa]

i can't stand poets.

[haikkun]

Diatribical Dribble

Accustomed to asking to speak, I eke,

“Permission to wear my heart on my sleeve?”

And people unenthusiastically

Wring their telephoned hands and say,

“Of course… Be brief.”

It is a common theme.

So I hide it deep,

Beneath.

And, oh… the pressure that builds and leaks

I hold my own ponytail now

When I cough such ick;

When sick speaks

And who can blame a girl for trying

To relinquish the past

And to hope

For softer sighing

That somebody could love as steadfast

As someone else

Who lied and meant it

_________________________________

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

[newmansa]

Diabolical Drivel

nobody cares

*

Talking never fixes anything, can it?

Even if it could you'd just tell me to can it.

I know things haven't gone how we planned it

But, just for a moment, can I be candid?

I'm tired, I'm trying, I've tethered my rope

To that anchor you threaten to throw overboard.

You of all people should surely know

How hard it will be but you'd just say to let go.

To let go? To let go!

"How hard can it be? It worked for me!"

But that's just the thing, you choose not to see.

I'm reminded of why I don't say anything,

I'm reminded of why I don't ask for your help.

If that's your response when I call on your name

Then I'd better be able to count on myself.

[newmansa]

sad boy hours hit different when it's your own poetry you're reading

[newmansa]

Aspiration

poem

*

Without a rustle in the leaves, tree boughs hung silent.

The weeds stood to attention, and blades of grass froze in time.

Not unlike the Galilee at dawn, the savanna waited,

Gasping hopelessly, but no relief would be found.

We knew not where it came from,

We know not where it went.

We thought not of it as a gift,

But pray eagerly for its return.

[newmansa]

Colour Theory

collab, w/@yaaqov

*

He spread avocado on toast, on discussion

That's duly partitioned from food or nutrition.

It's well understood that all good fat consumption

Has one repercussion: compelled imposition.

"Your family's Greek? Did they know that an egg was

So healthy? I'm alpha because of omegas...

Your roommate is dying? I'm dying for flaxseed.

My nutrient timing relies on me snacking--"

"Don't tempt me," she muttered beneath bated breath.

He choked on his chai. "Hey, about what I said...

I'm speaking politely, it seems you're not White, see

The Mediterranean people are slightly--"

"We're changing direction." She spake interjection.

"My baked omeletta would taste so much better

Sans racial conjecture. Your tone, your inflection,

Are major offenders, you day-off-work debtor."

"Whatever, I'm better off watching the Celtics.

My passion is health, and I try to dispel myths--"

"Now that is upsetting. Can we get the check please?"

There won't be a scene if you don't disrespect me--"

"Hey, check your demeanor. My mien could be meaner.

The mean of your meaning is 'pompous demeaner--'"

So, rolling her eyes, she stormed out with a sigh.

The waitress, the witness, stood hiding a smile.

[newmansa]

New Mansa Masterlist (MansaList?)

hello

i've been doing this a long time. and almost four years and over two hundred poems later, a few recurring themes emerge. these themes tend to reflect the things that i care most about, as my writing usually comes from a very personal place.

the trouble is, after four years and two hundred poems, some inevitably get lost in the shuffle. however, thanks to tumblr's nifty tagging system, i've been able to categorise my poems by subject matter and style. more and more, new people find my blog and because i don't reblog my own work very often, they don't end up seeing some older pieces. which is a shame.

i haven't addressed this, but this blog is primarily for myself. I keep it as an online archive of all my poetry, which happens to be open for public viewing. and like any good archivist should, i've categorised my work appropriately using the tags below. this system is not exhaustive, but at the very least it's a start.

Poems about a certain Ms. Greene - #jg

The Cliché Quatrain series - #cliché quatrain

The (young) Friday Night series - #Friday Night

Abstract/conceptual/surreal poetry - #abstract poetry

Pieces that blur the line between poetry and prose - #dynamic prose

Poems that are hijacks/continuations of other pieces - #hijack hijinks

Collaborations and pieces inspired by other poets on Tumblr - #collab

Poems about race issues - #black

Personal, difficult pieces - #personal

Poems lamenting/satirising the state of poetry on Tumblr - #doggerel

Longer prose pieces from a project that i keep neglecting - #proof of concept

Poems about my faith - #faith

An entirely serious and unironical peak behind the curtain of the process behind being an obscure Tumblr poet - #Industry Secrets

~

like i said, this isn't a perfect system and some older pieces will still be difficult to find. but should you ever feel interested in exploring older works that likely won't be reblogged again, this list will come in handy.

goodbye

[newmansa]

Treasonous Treatise

style ~ substance (?)

*

I've got naught support for holding court with haughty

Eyes that won't be drawn to floors before me,

You caught me, oh how riveting to scorn the

Opines of minds beneath your own enormity.

Glory be! For all to see and hear it!

Hearts will turn and scribes will learn to fear it,

Such artful scum with half the sum of patience

Commanded by the Lord on High in places

Mocked or locked from common intuition,

Until such time as this for full fruition.

Indignant! See, the seed has been corrupted,

It might as well have come from Eve's garden!

[newmansa]

Saboteur

*

I'm... not okay. Haven't been for a while. At least not for a sustained period of time. Every now and again life won't feel as meaningless, but those days are increasingly rare.

What's worse is this is the result of my own choices. Everyday the world feels heavy and I'm not doing anything to change it. I haven't been spending time with God, when I know that always eases my anxiety. I regularly spend more than 6 hours a day staring at my phone, when I know that always makes things worse.

Today I caught myself 'doomscrolling', reading about the new variant. (There's a new variant, by the way). I lied on my bed reading everything I could and retaining none of it, about a disease with a 2% fatality rate against which everyone who wants to be is vaccinated. I listened to experts argue with each other and warn me about misinformation. CNN had a smart public health person say that cloth masks were never "appropriate" for stopping the spread, Omicron or otherwise.

I hesitate to include that detail because the fact is it doesn't matter. We inherited a broken world and it's only gotten worse. Everything here is so heavy, so uninspiring, and it's getting harder to imagine it any other way.

I shouldn't blame my problems on the coronavirus disease. There are things within my control that I'm not doing, and I hate myself for it. I didn't choose to live through a pandemic, but I can choose how I respond to it.

I need to be better.

[newmansa]

at the end.

poem

*

where will you be

when The Wheel

stops turning?

can i join you

to watch

the show?

i'd rather not

be alone

for all of that.

let's?

let's.

[newmansa]

Heterochromia

poem

*

Was it a red flag or green light

Sipping vodka tonic on game nights?

I don't get drunk that often,

But when I do you're nearby

Debating me on star signs

Or other bullshit non-science.

I'd play it cool but can't shy

Away from all the half-signs

You left me, so cheeky,

No one likes a tease. We

Just might have made the Mistake

If it wasn't our last night.

[newmansa]

Novel

these are some fun times.

*

I checked the news and the number went up,

I shut it off but the number went up.

My phone went beep cause the number went up,

I turned it off but the number went up.

I had my lunch as the number went up.

I tried to laugh but the number went up.

My mother called, the number's gone up.

I miss my friends but the number's gone up.

My sister's scared cause the number went up.

I try stay calm but the number went up.

When I can't sleep, the number goes up.

When I'm lonely, the number goes up.

When I'm informed, the number goes up.

When I don't care, the number goes up.

It's hard to smile when the number goes up,

I could die and the number would go up.

[newmansa]

Relapse

again

*

I forgot.

I forgot what it's like to struggle to breathe

I forgot what it's like to fight for sleep

I forgot what it's like to feel powerless.

I... forgot.

I thought I was Strong, I thought I had grown,

"You're a man now aren't you? This is the real world."

I had my life together, people envied me.

But Strong isn't who I am.

Strong is just something I do sometimes

And right now, I don't know if I can.

I'm not Strong, don't expect this of me,

I'm not Okay, please don't forget about me

I'm not,

I'm not.

I'm not what you think I am,

I'm not who I said I am.

I... forgot.

[newmansa]

Noble Slave

a poem

*

Everyone prays for wisdom,

Everyone wants more restraint.

Everyone says they want more self control

But nobody asks for regret.

How much will you tame desire,

How long will you bind yourself?

Will your shackles be of carnal impulse,

Or are you enslaved by dubious virtues?

Tell me, who is better:

The fool who burns his life to the ground in a fit of passion?

Or the ascetic so concerned with his own discipline,

That he forgets to build anything at all?

A common grave awaits them both,

The Earth yearns to swallow us all.

When it happens, will we speak of the chaos that was,

Or of the good that might have been?

[yaaqov]

I Was Going to Use “Vampiric” and “Lyric” and “Atmospheric” and Probably Twelve-to-Fourteen Lines of Perfectly Metered Amphibrachs, but Seething About Pile-of-Shit Coworkers Placed the Winning Bid for My Effort

My feet have no stress. It’s a pyrrhic victory. I live in my bed.

[newmansa]

Plagiarism is a Serious Offence

i couldn't let those rhymes go to waste

*

Don't call it vampiric

When I pilfer these finished lyrics

You cynic, I know my limits

My skillset is atmospheric

At best. I vary meters

(I'm not classically trained),

But shoot for stanzas sweeter

Than some other assinine claims,

I wish they'd pin it. Just

Listen to the pop atop a pinnacle

Range, hilly areas laughably

Outside their miniscule range.

I'd say I wasn't the same,

But I'm not sure if I care

When no one knows me by name.

[newmansa]

The Golden Mean

"my greatest mistake was that i didn't make any at all."

*

King Midas, your Highness

I'm slightly short-sighted

Tonight. It's my first time

I'm not often like this.

In past, I decided

To live this short life in

A bubble. Devoid of the trouble

Devoid of the pain, the mistakes

The regret, the disdain

The excess, and the fame

The applause, the acclaim

All my days spent the same

Free of risk and of shame.

But what now? What remains?

What will come of my name?

"She returned to the earth

Sixty years from her birth.

She was temperate, modest

But not one for mirth."

Free me Lord Midas,

Lend me your touch.

If I feel one more thing,

Then let it be Love.

You curse your own greed

And the way that it cost you,

But tell me what's worse

Than to suffer for virtue?

[newmansa]

"Don't Save Her"

poem

*

i'm fine without you.

i lie without you

at night.

i lied about you

i tried to leave you

behind.

you never owed me

but now I'm so free.

you never owed me

and now I'm lonely.

i'm fine without you,

i'm fine without you.

i'm fine without you,

i'm fine without you.

[newmansa]

Native Tongue

i was thinking about her smile so i wrote a poem

*

Your smile is nothing like angular.

But, as an angel

You strangle my will to detangle

Myself from the world's first vernacular:

Love left unspoken.

My hope in that token

In past lives was broken

And now comes unnatural.

So come then, you Mischief,

Your quick wit and spirit

Know hardly a limit;

Let's learn that new language now.