Oddy

23 enby, writer, bookworm, art enjoyer, music lover, nothing really special about me 🎠 This blog is mostly inactive, I am pursuing my poetry elsewhere

[oddysblog]

My current main art project for my mental health, a wall collage, been loving it 😄

[decapod-appreciator]

hello princess tutu enjoyers please accept my offering

[oddysblog]

My queer identity in an image.

[oddysblog]

Woodpecker

By Benjamin Kirkman

———————————————————————

Freckled, lesser spotted

Really rare but feckless about it

You always craved carving me,

Hewn back, needle dropped and limbs lopped Clean off to make way for larger trucks.

You never gave me mercy, but a passion

Was rubbed in (frictionally)

My insides were hiding something tasty

Morsels of dignity, scraps of something

Often undesirable.

Birthed at height and trapped in rot

You ripped apart my bark and bite,

Plucked out my remaining life

And dug out a neat grave to for me die in.

[oddysblog]

I haven't posted on tumblr since 2018, need some nostalgia in my life rn

So I think I'll post on here again every now and then

[politijohn]

Chills. I can't imagine my own high school showing up like this less than a decade ago to protest disgusting legislation like Florida's Don't Say Gay bill. The support Gen Z shows for the LGBTQ community is breathtaking.

The fight goes on. Keep it up.

[spideylilparker]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH BITCHES 🏳️‍🌈

[oddysblog]

September Slithers

Why so morose,

This ill seated season?

.

As September slithers off into the future, time

Is waiting

For autumn to pull away from the sidelines

And mingle with nature.

To let it die

And then hopefully rebirth alive

Come springs turn.

.

Vibrancy is quick to be replaced

By shadows and silhouettes:

It's still beautiful

But nothing beats blooming booming spring

And the sunshine that accompanies it.

.

Still, I will not be sad

As holiday tradition will greet us

Soon enough.

It's even now racing and

raking itself towards our smiles,

Like leaves off the porch

.

And nobody wills it to as much as me.

[oddysblog]

A Realisation

Heart stopped, head grip

Walking for no good reason

And touching all: not knowing what to touch

Just needing to transfer to something

.

I have wasted all of what I could've offered:

You, by all accounts have not

And yet you think so highly of me.

I think highly of only the mountains just ahead-

.

I remember clambering in sweat too sticky

To even want to remember

But I had waded through pits and crashed along

Through harsh terrain

.

—brain made

.

I certainly can no longer picture it.

So I step forward some more

To that talent you hold so openly

And I hurt inside but walk some more

.

I want to bend away, fork a path

But I know that there's nothing for me there.

So onwards through serrated edges and snow:

Loss of love, loss of trust.

.

It will face me

Yet I will know to keep walking.

For what I could've offered:

In realisation, I still can.

[oddysblog]

Eyes

Flooded with emotions were his eyes,

Sparked so suddenly alive

By a sentence precariously placed

Into mouth of little sound, only motions

To attack and then retreat again.

.

The left was fierce;

The pupils, dilated and desperate too see

Any target slow enough to shoot daggers at.

Then abandon the wreck of whatever's left

Just as quickly as the rage rose.

.

And God help whoever the right eye saw,

For its depth of pain was darker then

Any trench accompanied by oil slicks.

Ready to ignite and char

Those unlucky enough to make eye contact.

.

But perhaps the most discomforting

Was his smile.

Not a smirk even across those lips

But a grin, one too difficult to contextualize

Except perhaps in the simplest of terms

.

It's the tantalising sweet

To a really bitter sour.

[oddysblog]

Rotten

You may have backed away

From the grotesque form I became.

A corpse of somebody oozing disdain

Among a mucus of maggots

And nattering flies.

You never did say your goodbyes

But you've always acted just the same.

.

And now you wander so carelessly free

And leave little thought for the memory of me,

You're more a monster then I

But I suppose you already gave me a warning,

I just didn't want too see.

And then you took my life

One feeble strike with a dull bread knife—

Was all it took.

.

I dont like this ending

[oddysblog]

Birds

Swooping above my windscreen waving past,

Are four birds each morning.

I see them at sixty but slow to fifty

I like to see them grandiose among the crows.

I think that they're buzzards–

Birds of prey are not my array, I know more

Of garden birds: tits are my favourite,

A risqué sentence I know.

But of the bird world, they're the easiest to ID.

I can sit proud on my settee saying each name

Aloud and know that I'm right.

These birds I pass on the duel carriageway

To Cheltenham, are something else

A beauty I have not seen before

And in their slow glide with sudden dives

For that ten seconds gone too fast.

I know I will look forward to tomorrow's commute.

[oddysblog]

I'm Free Now

I've made my way out into the world

I finally reached that parallel.

To which I've seen so many other reach

Stand tall and survey their ground,

I'd like to do that on my own two feet:

But I'm forever falling back down.

.

Who can help me understand my thoughts?

In a brain that knows lots of mental health,

Not what they are but

The dictionary definition or shape

No way to listen to the sounds

And interpret my great escape

.

Leaping from block to block

Compartmentalised is it all:

My brain.

Not everything else, shrouded by a depressing

Shall of waste.

I know not of this room anymore

.

But here I am, out there!

Mixed in with everyone else

I'm free now from those sweet memories

And times so casual, beyond doubt

Without struggle.

I strayed from it

.

Here I am in the unwashed linens

Of a wide open world.

[oddysblog]

Just a thought but

I love how therapeutic poetry can be.

[oddysblog]

As Spring Marches In

''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''"'''''''''''""''

It's not worth a second glance,

Just tear it out in some feverish romance.

As spring marches into the day to day

And the sadness of winter flutters away

.

Dandelions decorate my back garden now,

A weed that calls to mind a smile somehow

'A sure sign of spring' they say–

When hayfever sweeps in, shall be the day

.

For me, to accept its finally spring

.

[oddysblog]

Wanting to Go

Hold on!

You haggard cliff face, your taught edges

Have balanced so long.

How much doubt we have in your holding,

Many boulders are folding below

.

The semblance of strength: of wanting to go.

.

You're not yourself

After such a magnitude of booming sky,

Mixed deep into the swells and spells

And then we wonder why–

Why do you shake so violently so?

.

You have fallen some, so now we know

Through each decade

And layer upon layer of snow, you held

So dont doubt yourself like we foolish ones

You haggard cliff, take some ease

And take yourself together again

.

For you have hundreds more

And hundreds to see, so hold on

Dear cliff, please!

[oddysblog]

I'd left for nothing, Saw Everything

.

When I first left my bubble, the

Important bits of life before:

The oak trees and the garden well

The morning church bells,

The sounds and smells and even

The mocking laughter of the boys

From the big town over.

—They have a cinema now.

.

It all meant nothing

.

Come seventeen, I'd left for nothing

But to see it.

The big city and all its landmarks

That I'd long since admired on encyclopedias

At seven.

[goose-lit-deactivated20210605]

Digging for Fire

I write the title, you write the poem! Reblog with your piece :D

[oddysblog]

Turned grey, long since the days

Of silt collapsing across the bank.

The river ate,

It would spit and shake our skiffs away

Then leave it all barren; blank

.

Afterwards; for years they came

The apostles of guilt

They dug for fire, writhing with desire.

Hungry for ash and embers, not silt—

It happened again.

.

The flood of murk and muck

In minutes the fires were gone, you

Cannot rewrite what was only just finished

In a riverbed, fires are foreign

.