Mediocre @unremarkably-ordinary - Tumblr Blog

Greetings, and welcome to another Mediocre page.

First, an introduction. I am Mediocre, an epithet that describes me well. I use all pronouns, so mix it up a little. I'm 18. I post art and poetry :)

All my art: HERE

All my poetry: HERE

(I do not currently do commissions)

Enjoy :)

A poem inspired by tale foundry's video on "art in the age of rot" and the art based ttrpg "day of decay"

A day of decay

I walk this trail weekly

A twisting trail

Past the woods and meadows

A peak of loose rock and sharp stone

Around a bend

I see a corpse

An elk recently felled

Laying on its side across the path

Like a barrier

Marking the end of the road

So I sit by the carcass

Refusing to disturb its rest

I watch as it starts to decay

I watch as birds land upon the carcass

Drawn to my granola bar

But i refuse their curiosity

So they settle for the elk’s exposed flesh

The bushes rustle

And the birds spook

Vanishing into the endless sky

As an emaciated wolf emerges

Tearing at the carcass's neck

Its first meal in days

But it too spooks

At some sound i cannot hear

Disappearing in the underbrush

Fed enough to survive the night

But not much more

Emboldened by the wolf’s flight

Smaller creatures investigate

Rats and mice approach

Small teeth sharp like razors

They poke small holes in the carcass

Defiling the once pristine pelt

But the mice too eat their fill

Skittering back to their homes

The carcass once again quiet

No monument but the slugs

As they investigate the creatures skull

Leaving slimy trails in their wake

The rats have done their damage

The skin so full of holes

No longer holds the elk’s innards

An avalanche of flesh and maggots

Larvae fleeing back to the damp and the dark

Drawn back to the corpse by the sight of maggots

Birds descend from the heavens

Swarming the carcass

Looking for any insect foolish enough

To leave the safety of wet flesh

So the birds peck the organs

Now exposed to the elements

Each peck releasing a little more blood

Staining the ground incarnadine as it falls

Blood mixing with the gravel and dust

A beautiful pastel crimson

But it is getting dark

And i must return home

Leaving the carcass to fend for itself

As it slowly grows a second pelt

Of mold and fungus

Its veins replaced with mycelium’s sprawling web

So I bid farewell to my routine companion

And i feel a pinprick of sorrow

As i leave this temporary friend

Destined to be unrecogniseable by the morning

Just another patch of moss

Or wayward antler

Links to my inspiration

A solo drawing TTRPG about appreciating the beauty of death

#original poem #poetry #death #decay #Youtube

A decent idea for a cursed magic item.

Rot iron blade

I have made a wrought iron blade

Jagged and barbed

Like the roses in my garden

Grip wrapped in crimson

And it must feed

Its sanguine thirst quelled

With every creature turned to corpse

But it is not saded

So its thorns push through the cloth

Piercing my flesh

Fulfilling our bargain

Draining my veins

Yet it is still not sated

So the barbs push ever onwards

Filling my veins with thorns

Like the victims of gáe bulga

I can feel each artery stretched

Each capillary blocked

By iron vines

And I feel my flesh rent by thorns

As the grow and twist

Beneath my skin

But my veins run dry

And the blade starves

So we lay here

Nothing more than a corpse

And an iron bramble

So we both rot

In our own ways

My flesh devoured by scavengers

It's thorns dulled by rust

A rotting iron blade

#original poem #poetry #rot

A poem about a bad pun and some interesting horror imagery :/

Hand feeding birds

In the lazy heat of this summer morning

Surrounded by birdsong

I watch a Starling

As it lands on my palm

But there is no bird seed

No treat coaxing it to my hand

And it is hungry

Consumed by its instinctual survival

So it starts to peck

Tiny beak sharp like a needle

Poking and tearing my flesh

It's harmless head soakings in my blood

But I do not flinch

I do not crush the bird in an iron grip

I let it feed

I let it expose my bone

And pick them clean

Saded the starling flies away

To sing from a branch

Still coated in my blood

I am left alone

Staring at the bones

Soaked in the blood

Still flowing from torn veins

And I start to sing

My voice joining that bloody beak

In a beautiful harmony

#original poem #poetry #gore #blood

Urban combat

I've bore whiteness to a battlefield

Crowded streets

Air thick

With gaseous tears

Walls of hard plastic

Defending pitiless soldiers

Defending marble buildings

And hateful men

Masses of soldiers

Armed with voices and words

faces hidden

Behind masks and makeup

And I see the schism

Between the peaceful chaos

Of the empathetic masses

And the violent order

Of those they defy

So I join this urban combat

I don my handkerchief

And arm my words

To break through the warded hearts

And that hard plastic wall

#original poem #poetry #peaceful protest

Light is the exception

I look up at the sky

Plagued with light

Streetlights and headlights

Obscuring the stars

But this light has always been the exception

Each hidden star suspended

In an infinite darkness

I hope to one day see

But I cannot see those stars

They are drowned by this city

And it's eternal light

#original poem #poetry #light pollution

Her only summer

I watch a Robin

From my windowsill

As she hops through the garden

Free as only a bird can be

she lands by my hand

On the peeling paint

Of this old windowsill

And I hope she enjoys the summer

For she may not see another

The sun beams warm

Upon this aging windowsill

And I watch the bird

As it washes me

Curious and afraid

And the Robin flies

Spooked or uninterested

Retreating to the sky

Away from this rotting windowsill

So I watch a Robin

As she flies through the trees

Enjoying the sun

Of her only summer

#original poem #poetry #melancholy #robin

Dowsing

My grandfather told time with a pendulum

Standing motionless in the hall

The stone swinging back and forth

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Precisely on the hour

He would wake from his stupor

And with a click of his heels

He would speak to me

His pendulum still swinging

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

And he said

The pendulum never lies

Just as time reveals all secrets

All you need is a little patience

As he handed me the pendulum

Ever swinging

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

So I sit here uncertain

Looking at this old clock

But I heed his wisdom

And let my shaking hand settle

So that this pendulum can find its rhythm

And once again swing

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

As the time passes

And washes away my doubt

#original poem #poetry #grandfather clock #Chronos #dowsing #divination

The book of conquest

The pen is mightier than the sword

As it raises others swords

Calling a crusade

For whatever cause is written

And when its words fade

They are rewritten

To rally again

Against a new foe

And this the book of conquest feeds

With every act of hatred

Or fear

It gains a little power

So the pen is mightier than the sword

For blades and their wielders

Are slaves to the words

In that accursed book

#original poem #poetry

Headlights

In the dark

A deer mistakes headlights

For stars

The dazzling light

So beautiful in it's dark eyes

Petrifying

So he stands

Like a statue

As the stars start to fall

But these are not stars

A realization

Just to late

So the deer lies

In the dark

Looking up at the stars

#original poem #poetry #death #roadkill

I do not know what spirit possessed me to write this, but I am quite pleased with the result.

To dine upon a lovers grave

I sit upon a mossy stone

And lean upon your headstone

And I remember your life

As I begin my meal

And I remember my denial

When I first heard

Of your departure

A stubborn rejection

Of the painful truth

And I remember my anger

A rage toward the universe

When I realized you were gone

But my anger did little

And I remember the bargaining

An attempt to trade

Anything in this world

To get you back

But I know you cannot return

And I remember the depression

Like an endless well

Dark and damp

A barrier to all I knew

But I rise from the well

And I now reach an acceptance

As I dine upon your grave

A final meal

We never got to share

#original poem #poetry #death #grief

Chrysalis

I am a caterpillar

Shambling through the world

Waiting till I am large enough

To weave myself a chrysalis

But I am still small

Still slowly growing

Into skin the feels wrong

Like it was made for another

But I keep growing

And my skin is still wrong

For waiting changes little

And I need to change

So I weave my chrysalis

Dissolving my self

In hopes to reform

And flutter away

To a brighter place

#transgender #poetry #original poem

unremarkably-ordinary

Ozymandias decayes

I walk the desert

Passing stone statues

Weathered beyond recognition

People forgotten

But not unnoticed

Each one crumbles to dust

Joining it's predecessors in the dunes

None remain when I return

Their legacy forgotten

All but one

The first statue to plague this land

So archaic only the wanderers remember

The first tyrant

The king of kings

But he to is weathered

His legs buckled as they erode

Dropping him to the sand

To lay equal to the others

Nothing more than my shelter

As I make camp for the night

His face

Once immutable

Now lays half buried

Smooth and featureless

A victim of the storm he created

So I walk the desert

Waiting for the last memory to crumble

For the king to finally be forgotten

So that this once fertile land

Can once again bear fruit

unremarkably-ordinary

I wasn't all too happy with the above poem's execution of this premise so I tried again. :/

Thus the tyrant falls

I met a traveler from an antique land

Who told me of legs of stone

And a sneer of cold command

All that remains of ozymandias

So i walk the desert of that antique land

Where nothing beside remains

But the dunes have swallowed him

That face once commanding

Now lies buried and smooth

From years of neglect and erosion

And I crest a dune

To see two stone stubs

The highest point

Of that broken statue

So I rest a while

Sat upon the buckled legs

Of the statue of a king

And I bid a final farewell

To the king of kings

Now long forgotten

#ozymandias

I have been seeing all of these pride heart flag polls, but dont think anyone has added this option yet. Thought it was goofy :)

what pride flag did you get when you liked this post

rainbow / progress

lesbian

gay

trans

pan

aro

ace

enby

intersex

i have seen through your Rouse! I did not like this foolish post!

Voting ended onJun 14

#pride #gay #leabian #bisexual #pansexual #aromantic #asexual #transgender #nonbinary #intersex

Memento

Memento Mori

Memento Vivere

I know that i will die

But i do not fear mortality

For the threat of oblivion

Reminds me that I must live

Memento Mori

Memento Amoris

I know that i will die

but I disregard oblivion

For death is nothing

In the face of love

Memento Vivere

Memento Amoris

I remember that i live

Each time the shadow of death retreats

From the radiance of love

#a list of things to remember #original poem #poetry

Ozymandias decayes

I walk the desert

Passing stone statues

Weathered beyond recognition

People forgotten

But not unnoticed

Each one crumbles to dust

Joining it's predecessors in the dunes

None remain when I return

Their legacy forgotten

All but one

The first statue to plague this land

So archaic only the wanderers remember

The first tyrant

The king of kings

But he to is weathered

His legs buckled as they erode

Dropping him to the sand

To lay equal to the others

Nothing more than my shelter

As I make camp for the night

His face

Once immutable

Now lays half buried

Smooth and featureless

A victim of the storm he created

So I walk the desert

Waiting for the last memory to crumble

For the king to finally be forgotten

So that this once fertile land

Can once again bear fruit

#original poem #poetry #decay

Monologues

I realized that I write monologues

Veiled as poetry

A feeble attempt to hide my raving

To dress it as art

Possessed by the ranting

Of the madman trapped

In my subconscious

I rant on the page

Writing a monologue

With the skeleton of a poem

An amalgam of words

But I cannot write monologues

The punctuation slaughters rhythm

Mutilating speech

Tearing away emotion

Reducing it to information

So I write monologues

Veiled as poetry

To save them from the apathy

Of prose

#original poem #poetry

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