#izziewrites

[3m0-ch1ck]

calling all percy jackson fans! i’m writing a bit of a fanfiction on ao3. it’s essentially a high school au with no powers or anything, just regular teens. annabeths dating luke, he cheats, and to win him back annabeth fake dates her enemy and neighbor percy jackson. sorta silly, very self indulgent, but if you’d like to give it a try, my account is EM0CH1CK, and the fic name is “can’t help falling in love”. thank you!!!

[3m0-ch1ck]

songs of journey

by izzie

morning birds sing a song of journey

flying over blades of grass kissed by morning dew

so i sit with myself; i am in no hurry

for it is in these moments that i become new

[3m0-ch1ck]

The Only Way To Be Free Is To Be Gone

by Izzie

curtains sway with midnight winds

snowflake flies and shimmers from the sky

pale fabric twirls along with a dance

light as air, free of sins

doe-eyed fawn lays in shelter of green

small white lamb in a bed of innocence

cotton ball bunny hops in vast field of daises

sweet as honey, not ever seen

to be pure, to be white, to be small

footprints leave no mark on snow

no longer human, just sweetness, just petals

leave no prescence, hardly here at all

the suns light shining through the oak tree

leaving only fractured rainbows on morning dew

to be there but not, needed yet not seen, to be of beauty

i just want to be free

[3m0-ch1ck]

Guide to make a bad man good

by Izzie

For an evil man to become good,

to have him morphe before your very eyes.

It is not his hard heart you must change,

but his influential mark

Don’t tell the people of what makes him evil.

They must not hear of his sins.

Let them hear how he has a heart.

Don’t mention that it is black and singed

Next they should hear of his faith

Hear of how he kneels his head down on the altar

Tell them that he preaches the truth

Watch as his words poison the youth

Not much else is important,

if not the final act

Kill this man in cold blood.

Let’s see who they attack.

[3m0-ch1ck]

Indigenous

by Izzie

Indigenous means to originate from an area

To know the land like it's your soul

breathing the air your ancestors did, while tending the olive tree your great, great, great grandfather planted

on a sunday evening, not too different from this one

he is wearing your nose

great great great grandmother makes tea in the house, made from cloves bought from the market

the same way your mother taught you

She wears your sisters smile

your great great grandmother plays on the soil with her cousins

their clothes are dirty from playing on the dirt all day

It's the soil she was born on, under a great big date tree planted many greats

Just down the street is the family graveyard

Salty tears and choked words soaked into the green grass, grass thats seen generations of grieving flowers,

When the sun sets on this Sunday evening great great great grandfather great great grandmother go in

enjoy the tea, cardamom and cinnamon aromas creating comfort in normality

the ground of their home will stand for generations

this home is their life

The land is woven into their skin

Great great great grandfathers hands forever roughened from olive trees still standing 150 years later

He's gone and so is his wife and daughter

Buried in the tear soaked, flower ridden graveyard

This is what indigenous means

Not just to originate from a land

But to become it

For the fibers of the land and of you to be so tighetly interwoven, that not even in death may you part.

[3m0-ch1ck]

The idea of love

Sweet Saturday mornings.

The windows propped open, a light breeze

Two lovers entangled in limbs and sheets, faces blurred

Dark silky smell of cheap coffee

He pours it into two mugs, one cup black, other w/milk

I am behind him, my arms around his waist in a hug

The couch has two spots worn from wear

Life is warm in this moment, from love, lust, joy, warmth, fullness

Two lovers entangle once more, a puzzle yearns to be. complete

TV static is everlasting backgrand noise

What's a cheap TV. Cheap bed, cheap coffee

To these these honey suckle kisses

Sweet saturday mornings!

[3m0-ch1ck]

love - 2 part poem

love is an ancient thing

a wrinkly, hunch back, wart ridden, sour smelling old women

With a limping leg from polio, and an amputated arm from sepsis

Shes an ancient, bitter old thing

Haggle toothed, dark splotches of uneven skin, fish eyes, pointed nose, vinegar breath

Oh she’s as old as time itself

A survivor, oh yes she is

An evil of some sort, in some way

with gnarled, ugly hands she takes, takes, takes

An ancient wisdom she posseses

to know when to give

Oh love, when shall you give

love is an ancient thing.

Love is a youthful thing

a rosy cheeked, flowering, twinkle eyed, beautiful young girl

with a spry, a athletic body, constantly bubbling and laughing

She's a youthful, happy thing

Pearly grin, bluebell eyes, spirit in her bones

Oh how she twirls in the gardens

Mischievous thing, oh yes she is

An evil of some sort, in some way

her polished, golden hands gives, gives, gives

Such a childish notion she possesses

Not knowing that all given will not stay

Oh love, when shall you learn

Love is a youthful thing

[3m0-ch1ck]

an underrated (in my opinion) poet that i’ve really been into recently has Hanif Abdurraqib. He writes really good prose poetry and I’d highly recommend him!