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of and about writing

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If you like fiction, i post it on the other blog now....

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D. Ondria

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Writing fiction on wordpress from now on.

5 new posts up now.

of and about writing

D. Ondria

05242026

I mourn too often. Not often enough to keep it away. Mourning for years. Never fully. Just bits. Grief of possibilities unmet. Grief of alive and unliving. Of living but questioning if this is alive. If this falling short. A torture of leaping and falling into an abyss to respawn on a precipice and every effort to move forward to end in a void again. I mourn too often. Not often enough to keep it away.

D. Ondria

03032026

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I was born to rage, in rage, and enraged. My calm is not calm. It is the silent perpetual flow of lava under a surface hardened by years of bullshit that predate me stamped by the heavy feet of machines and systems that never saw me as a person tended by people who think because they LET me do or be anything I am supposed to just be okay but in the same breath claim to believe in a shared God who is also the reason this ish flows and dont explode. Not angry enough, please. Be glad I'm not.

D. Ondria

01102026

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This is all happening easily because it's always been happening.

New to you dont make the new true.

You can't experience everything but if you are actually listening, you can learn a lot. And if you learned a lot wisdom would keep you from an experience others already told you to avoid.

But you didn't listen or learn. Wisdom is further from you than Earth is to sun so all of this came easily because it's always been. New to you dont make new true. This is a day that ends in y, not a trend.

D. Ondria

01262026

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria

Speculative fiction. American history. Pick an era / year

help a writer

1619

1776

1860s

Voting ended onJan 9

D. Ondria

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Meraki Kintsugi

I dont need a break

I been in pieces

Tryna pull drops

From here and their

Looking for strength in the dust

Of the shattered wake

Of where wholeness once was

I need a fix

But there is no gold

For gold to make beautiful

The broken pieces

Into a new thing

Sold a lie

Long overdue for sleep

To dream in a reality

That can be

No rest for the weary

Just fumes

Shimmering

Where fire used to be

D. Ondria

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria

Can I Have Your Attention?

Can you speak truth to power if it has no ears to hear? If coins are lodged so deep it touches tissue that should activate tears. Is there a point to speaking truth to power when the hearts have been stuffed with bills and nerves have been set ablaze by the thrill of the squeeze? Hands forever clinched for extraction. What truth is there to speak to a power that only knows action? To snatch and take, sounds like steal, to destroy, and they kill from leaving you dead inside to taking your literal life as long as a dollar can be pulled from it. And it can. And it will. Problems manufactured so our tears for solution will grease the wheel. How the hell do you speak truth to power? To a power that will not listen. Hell if action is taken, they barely flinchin? Solutions don't seem to hit like the used to. People irate online as a ruse to keep accounts open and scrolling while we stallin in real life. Should we turn the truth to power to the people to see their own light? How it's been dimmed by the whims of those in control trying to gain the whole world, all its resources, and drain our souls? Can you even hear it? Because it's hard when your stomach is growling and your car makes that funny noise or you back hurts a little too much for that bus seat. It's difficult as the cha-ching hits everytime a Christmas song comes over the PA as you push off the panic of the attack of the crowds. The go-backs pile up. The present selection gets tough. And you still need the basics. Speak what to who? What will get through the noise of this very real but very stupid bullshit? You hear it calling but lose nights and weekends trying to catch up on a week spent making meetings or making ends that never meet. One more degree as they are devalued won't fix it. One more application as AI turns a blind eye because you have the wrong keyword even as you pulled it from their own words. Fighting ATS for a chance, wishing for a return to a BTS trance because everyone can't make millions on some BS stolen from a real creator that can actually dance. Everyday the truth gets more layered. Heavier. Truth spoken to power meets nothing more than its maker. Speaking to the people has so much noise to cut through.

TL;DR - this shit is so fucked up, I wonder, what the hell can we even do?

D. Ondria

11232025

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I am always fine

Unchecked on

Left to my own devices

Disappointed

And usually pretty ignored

And be needing hella help with no way to get the stupid fuckin words out

So i say

Im fine

Don't worry about it

I got it

It's cool

And sit silently wondering wtf was the kid supposed to do so the adult can and get free

I aint found it yet.

D. Ondria

09132025

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria

Heart of a Woman, too

We love far, wide, randomly, and intentionally. Watchin over all the babies, not just our own. Watching over every elder, from abuela to auntie and endearments we know not of. Caring quietly and directing God's attention to the safety and care and to our strength, praying we wont need it because there's no tellin how you receive it. All the while, head on swivel for ourselves. Feeling and reading endlessly. Tiredlessly. Running on fumes and hopes that God and ancestors are in the room for us because you only follow to accuse and we have yet to see you care. Burning the candle of vigilance at both ends and pouring out in the drought of reciprocity. And cant count on my own because one only wants of me and another is just doing the same thing and losing energy from every angle while the world gains steam off our energy so we barely have it to give to each other. And give still, as we must. Growing flowers in the dust.

D. Ondria

07132025

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria #poetry by d ondria #african american poetry #black poetry #poetry

In the midst of this shit

I have no idea what any one of us is supposed to do in the midst of this shit

There doesn’t seem to be any rules in this fight and yet

The thought of it all feels dangerous

It feels like a mission in futility to try to fight and to fight in any way

That guarantees risk seems to only ensure that the fight will end

And darkness will fall

But to not fight is to not give the light a chance but the light feels to light for this fight

Even though the light is right and will leave what it is left that can be used

And burn up all other things

Or will it

So we can hope in the midst of this shit

Somehow

And how I do not know

I just know that we must hope

We must hope and fight and do what’s right and hold the light

And be the light and find a way to be alright in all of this

In the midst of this shit we must stand where we can

Even in rest, to lean on something and hope to be held up

And ready to move and breathe and have our being as our divine right

Even in the midst of this shit

When all would have you believe that all is lost and there is no standing

There is no resting

Only worry and panicking which makes perfect sense in the midst of this shit

But this can not be it

Even if it is

We can persist

We must

We will

Because this is not new shit by which to be in the midst of

This is not finality but the end and a cleansing

But it does not have to erase and it can embrace

And a choice and many choices will need to be made

In the midst of this shit voices can and will need to be raised

In the midst of this shit we can find a way out and a find a way through

No matter what this shit says we can and cannot do

No word of man has stopped man from remaining and persisting

No word of man has done anything but demand and condemn and then fall silence

And made anew in the fight

Even in the midst of this shit

Flowers will grow in the glow of the destruction

And all will deal with the construction and reconstruction for we don’t know how

To be and let be until we have to

And we will have to after being in the midst of this shit

D. Ondria

06292025

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria

What's the word for this?

I am tired. The bone deep kind. I have the words and I dont at the same time. And tired is losing its strength because it's just not quite right. It's not sleep I need. There's no more peace at night. Rest always comes with less so there's no reprieve. There is this weird sense of things needing to be done. So there's no room to grieve. There's urgency in slow mo. This need to stay and this pull to go. I am tired. But the bills still come. The relief seems to be on hold. What's the prayer for that? I am tired. I am tried. And I am found wanting it all to fucking stop. Breathless while breathing automatically like I subscribed to any of this. Clamoring for purpose to manifest born into a world that will do everything but let me be constantly shifting to survive promised a chance to thrive only to watch it die. I am tired. Have I tried and where I tried why did it fail when so much bull got a chance to prevail. All I wanted was to live decently but maybe it's because I was hoping to set up a little peace in a place that only knows hell. I don't know. I am tired. The bone deep kind. Where there are no words and plenty. Where there is always and never time to try, to rest. For peace. For protection. I am tired.

D. Ondria

06222025

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria #poetry by d ondria #african american poetry

What's the word for this?

I am tired. The bone deep kind. I have the words and I dont at the same time. And tired is losing its strength because it's just not quite right. It's not sleep I need. There's no more peace at night. Rest always comes with less so there's no reprieve. There is this weird sense of things needing to be done. So there's no room to grieve. There's urgency in slow mo. This need to stay and this pull to go. I am tired. But the bills still come. The relief seems to be on hold. What's the prayer for that? I am tired. I am tried. And I am found wanting it all to fucking stop. Breathless while breathing automatically like I subscribed to any of this. Clamoring for purpose to manifest born into a world that will do everything but let me be constantly shifting to survive promised a chance to thrive only to watch it die. I am tired. Have I tried and where I tried why did it fail when so much bull got a chance to prevail. All I wanted was to live decently but maybe it's because I was hoping to set up a little peace in a place that only knows hell. I don't know. I am tired. The bone deep kind. Where there are no words and plenty. Where there is always and never time to try, to rest. For peace. For protection. I am tired.

D. Ondria

06222025

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria #poetry by d ondria #african american poetry

Busy Black Woman

I cant rage

Or cry

I cannot open the flood gates

Where resides

My pain

And holds a thousand others

They dont need my help

But we are one

The great unseen and robbed

The great imitated and prodded

The great creators, desecrated

The great noise, silenced

So if I speak

If I break

If I release

The wave will need a new name

Tsunami is not my language anyway

And this will engulf and ensare

And require movements of heaven

To calm

So I am not strong

I am protective of peace

For now

I am holding for now

For if I cry

Or rage

Nothin will ever be the same

D. Ondria

06192025

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria

Random Thought

It was pretty weird to get more and more confirmation about how harmful ChatGPT can be for the environment. And let me say that as a tool for ASSISTANCE and not a replacement for the doing of figuring something out or researching, it's been really helpful for me where social media has lost the plot. Everything doesn't need to be monetized but living in a capitalism whirlwind that makes living an expense, I get it. But it's nothing like being online since the beginning and watching both more people and more bullshit and more bots flood the space to really make ChatGPT seem like a good option. Questions get answered at least with AI. And I think that will be the thing that keep it alive unless WE, actual people using the internet, choose to do so differently. I'm not saying stop charging for your expertise and know-how. By all means, continue in that way. But what I am saying is that if community has to come with a cover charge, then people will continue to run to any version they can access for cheaper or for free - even at the expense of environmental and other things necessary for life...

Yes, this is a candle burning at both ends and smouldering in the middle. Yes, this is a culmination of a bunch of different problems, all with solutions mind you, that need to be and can be solved all at the same time. But that is clearly not what is happening, what is being attempted, or given half a damn about. That's unfortunate.

But until people start people-ing again and offering at least starter level help and encouragement and support where those in need can continue on in their journey of whatever, I don't think any of the tools we come up with - harmful or otherwise - will ever find their way to disuse, even if it means some of us have to suffer for it.

We are the solution to our problems and each others'.

And I won't be a hypocrite - I can't draw or afford to commission an artist for a super short thing I want to write and add a character visual to, so I asked ChatGPT to do it. It's already done but I am debating sharing it. So I get how hard it can and will be to look at something that is so easily accessible and wildly helpful (for the most part) differently.

So okay, fine...let the tool assist you, but do not let it think for you, do everything for you, or essentially replace you - because whatever you can do, is needed.

D. Ondria

4/29/25

#ecosystem of creatives #african american writers #blackgirlmagic #african american authors #originalbydondria #black writers #creative writing #black creatives #black women writers #original by d ondria

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