#50centchallenge

[50centpoetry]

That’s A Wrap!

And that brings us to the end of the 2019 50CentChallenge! 

For those who followed along, thank you(!!), and I hope some of you will join me in writing for March 2020! 

This was a lot of fun. :D

And of course, a big thank you to the lovely @itsyaboikawa for the mood boards, especially after I’d bother her at the odd hours of the morning/evening after my bouts of the inspiration for the day. 

See you all next year!

[50centpoetry]

3/17/19: [Smithereens]

[n: fragments or bits] 

It’s been done-

The wall’s come crashing down and all that’s heard is the sound of screams

Is it victory or fear?

No one knows

No one knows what to feel

What to say

What is true

What is right

For all they see is that the world’s been smashed to smithereens and they must face themselves now

There’s no more mirrors to hide behind.

(The weight of human sin is a fascinating and terrible sight to see, stained over faces in dripping shades of scintillating black.)

-M.G.

[50centpoetry]

3/04/19: [Feisty]

[Adj: Not afraid to fight or argue]

You’re a light-bright star-night child, aren’t you? 

Hot and blazing against the bitter cold of the dark that surrounds you, setting yourself aflame just to keep the winter of nighttime at bay. 

You’re a wonderful sight, with nebulae in your stomach and the Milky Way on your tongue, neon from where you swallowed galaxies just to keep yourself alight, more brilliant that you could ever believe- 

For what you see as necessary, painful, burning through your ribs as you fake an electric smile for the sake of keeping peace, I see as powerful, feisty work of art made of the blood and bone of your stubbornness. 

Don’t ever burn out, my dear. 

(Round and round, spinning, shining- a black hole of a dangerously hungry heart and galaxies freckling ethereal flesh.)

-M.G.

[50centpoetry]

3/23/19: [Reverberate]

[v: to reflect, repel, echo, or resound]

On the outside looking in 

I feel it echo, ache, and sting 

Cards folded between fingers 

Laughter a dead ringer

For something I won’t be able to feel

I’m right here, am I not? 

Am I not trying hard enough? 

The game continues on without me 

A ghost you cannot see 

Cannot feel

Cannot hear 

My loneliness reverberates in a space filled with noise 

With bodies 

With hearts 

For even when I’m when I’m standing here 

I’m forced to always stand apart. 

(“You just need to try to make friends, you know”- but you can’t force hearts to connect with someone who can’t see you.) 

-M.G.

[50centpoetry]

3/18/19: [Parabolic]

[adj: expressed by or being a parable]

Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to poke at things that bite?

Sting?

Scratch?

Shriek?

This isn’t the smile you think it is, child, but bared, blood-stained fangs.

Do not call me cute

Do not patronize me

Do not fit me into the palm of your hand expecting me not to snap and hiss

For you know of the parabolic Eve, yes?

And the snake that draped itself lovingly around her throat before cursing her in sin?

I’m no fair-weather naïve maiden-

I am sharp

Dark

Entrenched within my own mind

I am Lilith-

Do not look down on me, you hedonistic hypocrite,

Because this snake is venomous.

(The white-heat flash of ivory-scorched fangs, deep in your throat before you have the chance to spew another disgusting word.)

-M.G.

[50centpoetry]

3/10/19: [Newspeak]

[n: propagandistic language marked by euphemism, circumlocution, and the inversion of customary meanings]

Double-edged.

There’s venom to your tongue, to your smiles.

(It burns hotter than any match-struck flame.)

Two-faced.

Janus must be jealous of you, of how quickly you turn tail to hide your true intentions.

(A hall of mirrors in your eyes, twisted and distorted in quicksilver.)

Poisonous.

Not venomous, because you don’t- can’t- bite; you inject yourself into the conversation until it’s all poisoned in your favor.

(Green with envy, tasteless, unseen.)

Newspeak.

You’re naught but fae, false but fair, begging for some scrap of proof that you’re to be valued for your ugly, worthless soul-

So you open your mouth to overcompensate for your atrocious heart.

(Words are but words that change the meaning of other words, slanting themall into uselessness with pointless, dizzy italics.)

-M.G.

[50centpoetry]

Join me?

To whom it may concern... 

I have a personal tradition of mine I call the Word of the Day Challenge, where I write something small using the daily word definition given by Merriam Webster Dictionary (I find mine on the app, but it’s on their website as well). I find that it’s a fun, prompt-based daily thing to do that also teaches you some really funky words while also getting you to CREATE! 

Though I doubt this’ll get very far, I do this challenge for the entirety of March, and for this I personally write something short, but I typically pair it with a themed mood/aesthetic board that my sister makes for me, so- 

If you’d like to join in, here’s what I’m thinking: 

-Write/draw/compose/etc WHATEVER creative medium you’d like either using the Merriam-Webster Word of the Day starting MARCH FIRST

-Tag both me (@50centpoetry) and also #50centchallenge if you end up doing it so I can reblog you!

I’ll be doing the challenge myself, and while I don’t think many will, I hope a few of the peeps who see this will join me for a few days here and there. :) 

Please share this post if you are interested, and I hope this March will go well! 

-50 Cent Poetry 

[50centpoetry]

3/07/19: [Mirandize]

[V: To recite the Miranda warnings to a person under arrest] 

Go ahead- 

Hit me.

Give me your worst. 

I will kick and scream, and while my voice may give out, the scars I leave will still bleed long after you’ve shattered my fingers. 

Break my nose, my hands, my legs, but you will not break my steel-camellia spirit. 

You can cauterize me, Mirandize me, modernize me, but the old-fashioned girl you want is different from this classy woman with fangs behind her smile and knives between her knuckles.

So come at me- 

You won’t last a second with that blackened tongue of yours. 

(Don’t underestimate me, little boy- this lioness bites.) 

-M.G.