Prosaic Poetry

Not always fantastic writing by an amateur. Generally fantastic art reblogged from other people.

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I very likely spelled Chekhov's name wrong dozens of times and I apologise

I very likely spelled Chekhov’s name wrong dozens of times and I apologise

“She begins her night by placing her handgun in plain sight of the other players, their eyes all drawn to it. They had just come to play cards… well mostly.”

Hey, let me just begin by saying, Chekhov was my least favourite Star Trek character.

Okay, we’re clear on that? Sweet, lets talk about Chekov’s gun and the fleshing out of a story with needless details.

Firstly, what is Chekhov’s gun? Well,…

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18.5.18

The vibrance of her skin against me, perfume stains tangled up in interstellar fabrics. She is the sun drenching me in her soft black light gravity drawing me in. I lay head against her pillows and ink on her skin. Pale white and pockmarked, toothy grin and elation.

Tell me, where do you see this going? “Far.” How far? “The moon, the stars, I want to die with you.” Die with me? “In like eighty years, when we’ve had a long happy life together.”

In like eighty years, when we’ve had a long happy life together. I’ll lay you down for the last time, and kiss you gently, and hold your hand as you fade away. “You won’t die with me?” Someone has to make sure you stay dead, I don’t want to be responsible for the zombie apocalypse. *snort* “You nerd.”

In eighty years, we won’t know ourselves. So much can change in a much shorter time.

The vibrance of her skin against me, perfume stains tangled up in interstellar fabrics. Nuclear fires burned up drenching me in warm red and orange gravity pulling me apart. I lay her head against her pillows and lipstick on her cheek. Pale white and pockmarked, serene smile and adoration.

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18.5.17.

Falling to pieces, a broken mirror’s stare.

Shattered like an unreal dream.

All I want is companionship, a pretty girl who pays attention to me.

So we can talk about anxiety together and maybe learn to cope.

But where do I begin?

A shadow of a human, my tongue sticks to itself

my mind undercuts my thoughts

Incapable of even knowing how to start.

And no-one even talks to me, how can I learn to be…

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socialism

I normally couch my politics through a less obnoxious and direct way, but I’m more than a little annoyed today by a bunch of people and I feel the need to scream into the ether my impotent rage. I’m not even sure how coherent this will end up, but here goes.

The one phrase that annoys me more than anything else is “socialism has never worked anywhere”.

Actually, it flat out infuriates me, because…

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depression

In the silence where static breathes, she turns her head to me and breaks it all with a whisper.

A memory that I am alone in the world, no longer an object of affection – merely an object.

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tinder

Left

Left

Left

Scared that going another way will mean I have to speak with a living person.

Right

A pretty girl with the smile of aphrodite and the body of cleopatra.

Left

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18.5.14

Hard of breath, trying to sleep with twisted guts

a long night of working while trying to be close to others

organised like a clique, they shut me out without realising they shut me out

I wished I found comfort amongst their ranks and didn’t try to just fit in

I wished I had more than zero friends because then it might be more easy to manage

I wished I had the confidence to say this before a crowd, and know if they love me or hate me

I will forever be alone, hard of breath and twisted in the gut

I would be perfect, if not for my flaws and one of them is being trite

I lack of wit in my wittiness

I lack of courage in my bravado

So certain that I am correct, I can only win debates before mirrors

So assured that I am good, that I worry about being bad.

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18.5.11

And will you cry when I am gone? Will you see my disappearance for what it is, or let it consume you in another way, or better yet ignore the fact I am no longer here?

And will you cry when I am gone? Will it even make you wonder, make you sad, make you happy? Do I care anymore? Do you?

And will you cry when I am gone? Or are you as tired as I am of all this fighting? The stress of hair falling…

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18.5.8

Begin with a family

grow it into a tribe

give the tribe an identity

let that identity grow into a nation

give the nation a state

upon the state invest all power

with all power the state may expand

bring other nations into the fold

but they are not like you

they are different and strange and other

and in the state offer security

security against other nations

cull them until they believe in your…

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18.5.7

A captive mind, engaged and buried inside a cage

What was anxiety turns into paranoia

and it troubles how clear it has become

that if it is wrong, that if it is right

that if it is neither but both

but some and not none

or none and not any

but all of it is

the fear of never being liked and yet when it is clear

the great deceivers come forth

how worthy are you of affections if you are yourself

are…

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18.5.4

By the way when I can’t speak

I’m wide awake and I can’t sleep

came up short and she wasn’t pleased

bought my night with 9 to 5

left me waiting, the girl of my dreams

lays me down and whispers in my ear

been getting harder just to stay here

and I just need a reason to be alive

but no one speaks

and in my heart and mind I die

shivering insomnia from my pores

waking up at midnight to write poetry

about how I can’t sleep

and how I’ll always be alone

I’m wide awake and I can’t wake from this nightmare

that’s eating me from the inside

that’s eating away at my mind

that’s pushing me to suicide

driving the ideations of hope in tragedy

Imagine me, the no one who speaks

and the wind takes my words

until even my friend never hears me

but the end is so final

and I’ll always be alone

happiness is misery

and I’m living the dream

I’m wide awake so I cannot sleep.

I’m wide awake and I cannot speak.

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few

We happy few who march upon the blades of the enemy. And impale upon the pikes of the enemy. And fall before the bows of the enemy. And suffer from the guns of the enemy.

No sling nor shot can break our advance, we the happy few. And upon the ramparts our bodies lay. And upon the streets we bleed away. And upon the stones we suffer today.

We happy few who march upon the den of evil. And shout and scream for the right to rule. And shout and scream for the right to be. And shout and scream for the blood of the wicked.

We happy few who die today. And we waste away. And we fade away. And we hide away.

For we happy few, are lost amongst the tide of the miserable masses. For they are bought and we are sold. For they are content in misery, and we are happy in agony. For they are the empire and we are the landless.

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18.5.2

/malaise/

malaise

there is no worse place to be

the cancerous fog

an illithid beast

boring into my skull

so dull

I almost don’t feel the pain

just numb like a pulled tooth

what am I meant to do

when the burning world feels like

static

/static/

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Self-determination.

Eastasia makes peace within itself. A flagrant violation of the world’s current order. To challenge laws is vain at best. Submit instead to the order of things. When the woken giant steps upon your throat. Do not struggle, it will be over quicker. It comes not to destroy, but to beset upon you liberty. It takes from you the worldly treasures you hoard. So that you may know the freedom of equality. And imposes upon you its body, so that you may know the freedom of all other times. And the whole world shall know you deserved it, for stepping out of line for having some semblance of your own control for daring to be as you want to be. You deserved it, you fucking whore. You’re not allowed to shackle yourself like you have been doing, you belong to the giant, just like the rest of us.

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competition

It is sunny out, so I’m making hay for my strawmen. And math is not my strongsuit.

  Not usually one to avoid politics, it had surprised her how long it had taken for this conversation to come up with her friend. He had a business idea, it was a good one, and as they arrived at lunch one day wide-eyed and excited. Lily sat down with him, spoke with him at great length and when he asked about her…

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Legal.

Come here and dance for me, honey. Come here and dance. They’re all waiting for us, babe. They’re all waiting. Don’t keep them in suspense, let them see you smile. Let them know who you are, keep them lingering. Be the bitch on your own time, be the bitch some other place. Come here and dance for me, honey.

Come here and dance.

‘Her name is Lily, she is a contract lawyer.’

Lily smiles for the…

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Intent.

False memories is the name of his business. All he had to do is word things differently but keep the same message. ‘Russian chemicals used in assassination attempt in Salisbury.’ ‘Russian chemicals used in chemical attack in Douma.’ ‘Russian chemicals discovered in water supply of western Ukraine after toxic spill.’ In twenty-seventeen, as he well knew, the Organisation for the Prohibition of…

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