our lady in the dress of tulle
too pure for paint and lace;
the innocent but not the fool,
the everlasting grace!
you've changed since all those weeks ago,
since all those people fell,
but only pete and stephie know
and they can never tell.
your velvet step's still well-behaved
although your mouth's demurer;
and by your works the town is saved,
the world is all the purer!
and they can call you nerdy *****
at least it means you're clean;
nobody mourns a ***** dude
who's murdered at eighteen.
endure the gaze of ***** heads
and lure them down your path,
to where you snare them in your threads
when you unleash your wrath!
the act may be demonic, but
through you, it feels divine —
you are the righteous angel that
they cannot undermine.
you are the wielder of the axe
of abstinence and will
you are the faith that cannot lapse,
the hands that clasp to ****
to save each persecuted *****
a kingdom in the sky.
nobody mourns a ***** dude.
they all deserve to die.
Feb 25, 2023
Feb 25, 2023 at 12:20 PM UTC
my house is scratched, my house is scrawny
it squeaks but it don’t shine
my name is Fudge the Brownie
and this fudgin’ house is mine
it wasn’t perfect when they built it
they had to patch and bodge
and they summoned this here spirit
out of every little “fudge!”
stubbed ya big toe on the landing?
****** on carpets that don’t match?
splinters on the wood needs sanding
and the gutter pipes don’t catch?
take it easy! don’t make boggarts
outta molehills made of dust,
leave me coins and nuts and yogurts
and i’ll fix it when i’m assed
our house it leans, our house it sighs
it ain’t got no level lines
but you got a Fudge here on your side
and this fudgin’ house is mine
i will fix what thing wants fixing
but don’t fix what ain’t yet broke
not my fault the sink is sinking
not my fault the speakers spoke
ya don’t see the dishes drying
i don’t put em on display
like the oil where you were frying
that i cleanly put away
**** you all you ******* *****
i am like twelve inches tall
so don’t make me catch your glasses
cos you put em where they fall
just because you ******* bought it
does not mean this house is yours
you turned Fudge into a Boggart
i’m not doing your fudgin’ chore
you hurt my house? that's outta pocket
so i'm done being benign
you turned Fudge into a Boggart
and this fudgin' house is mine
Nov 1, 2022
Nov 1, 2022 at 11:31 AM UTC
he doesn’t play the piano
the piano plays itself
through the dextral treble
and the sinister bass clef
he doesn’t lift a finger
the ivories press back
the ebonies go up and down
without a single clack
he barely presses downwards
his fingertips suffice
the music plays the piano
he’s merely its device
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 11:58 AM UTC
(come on brain, think of things / come on brain, be so smart — lin manuel miranda)
with hollow bones i had been born,
so why their leaden flight?
for others have far heavier borne;
i must be feather-light
in branching paths i loved to wend,
their tangle stuck me fast.
now shorter streets have found their end;
i must be lightning-fast
i write these things to make life rhyme
but cannot see to see
and wonder, wonder, all the time
what must be wrong with me
and they say better late than not,
and better slow than still
while counting anxiously to naught
and asking when i will
i do not know! i do not know!
what little i do ken
is that i go when i can go
and do all that i can
and yet my life in shambles lies
i cannot see to see
with oceans in my tired eyes
what must be wrong with me
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 8:51 AM UTC
your finite minds will calculate
the music of the spheres,
and try to map the infinite
to guide your pioneers
but though those circles heave and sway
and through the aether surge;
i tie my fulgent secret way
not to this demiurge.
that blinding, bumbling dynamo
is but another star,
and countless others shine just so,
indifferent and far.
why let that mere proximity
endear my core to this,
when graver is the gravity
twixt me and the abyss?
no law of physics governs me,
they know not how I move,
i flitter frictionless and free
though maths may not approve
predict my orbit, if you can!
jar lightning for your gears!
i trap the spite of centuries
i burn your deity's tears
remember, child of adam, and resign:
i am the matter you will never find
May 18, 2022
May 18, 2022 at 11:09 AM UTC
Why couldn’t you just shine, and never flicker?
Why couldn’t you forget me, like the rest?
Just let me be your ****** of a sister,
The failure that you pushed out of the nest.
You could have lived the life that you predicted:
A house, a yard, a minivan, a kid!
And I could hike the continent, contented
With what I’ve done, not caring what you did.
Whose fault was it? Which ******** here was driving
When all your glittering plans went up in ash?
How dare you break beyond hope of surviving;
How dare you die, Jane Perkins, in that crash!
How dare your number call me with no warning
That some guy’s voice would sob with tragic news?
How dare you write no checklist for this mourning,
This endless task that I can never snooze?
How do I shape a life outside your shadow?
How do I cut a path you never tread?
Why can’t I run away to Colorado,
What ties me down to Hatchetfield instead?
Of course I’m left to finish what you started;
This cruelty is all so very you —
You, accomplished, finished, done, departed —!
You’ve left me all the things I cannot do.
Feb 16, 2022
Feb 16, 2022 at 11:51 PM UTC
i am a kind of hermit-crab,
and there i found a shell,
and would have stayed, but summer passed —
the walls i had outgrown.
i kept my trinkets in my cave,
and to myself alone
that attic flat in bremen was
my home away from hell.
half-sleepy on the straßenbahn,
transport me anywhere —
the frei in freie hansestadt,
could taste it in the air!
i kept a book for sketching in,
and never felt so free —
that attic flat in bremen where
one summer i was me.
Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 12:50 AM UTC
take the torch that splits the dark,
pocket monsters are the mark,
shine the light upon the messes,
seek the one who fluoresces
Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 12:48 AM UTC
women fear me, fish fear me
men avert their eyes
every living creature falls
into a hush, and dies.
when i walk, i walk in silence
on this barren ground
i will never fall, and thus
will never make a sound
Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 12:46 AM UTC
Tell me, truly, are you singing?
Say, are you the one who sings?
Or was that the reeds a-ringing
Rung by Zephyr’s mayfly wings?
Once upon a quiet evening by a still and silent water
was Ioreth, who was singing, as they gazed upon the sky
who was neither flesh nor fairy, who was neither son nor daughter,
who, while all of use were merry, went away without goodbye.
Our Ioreth sat there singing to the cool and quiet sky.
List you well, for they have started; can you hear Ioreth singing?
They were nearly still departed, and their voice is still nearby.
Where the dew clings to the rushes, and the reeds where dew is clinging
look o’er still and silent gushes, there they’re singing to the sky.
They were flighty; we were foolish; we remain; their voice will fly.
Tell me, truly, were you singing?
Say that lovely voice was yours!
Or was that the breeze a-bringing
Melodies from other shores?
When Ioreth, in their weeping, noticed ripples on the river,
then the one, no longer sleeping, rose to greet them and to try
to ascertain if it truly was Ioreth, music-giver,
who was quietly and cooly singing to the silent sky.
Such a one, below them peeping, spoke and sang for a reply.
So Ioreth, slightly pensive, leaning like the rushes weary,
sang with language quite defensive that they could be heard to sing,
but it was a night of singing, and the rest of us were merry,
or it could have been the wind that could be heard, for it was spring;
Sang with language quite extensive that it could be anything.
Tell me, truly, were you singing?
Will you sing for me right here?
I heard winds your voice a-stringing
And I want to have it near!
So the one list to their singing, with damp arms upon the shore,
and Ioreth, forward leaning, sang to her and to the sky.
Not a star was watching o’er them; they had all gone on before
when she reached out to embrace them and to wipe their cold face dry.
And Ioreth, pity gleaning, let the one list to them cry.
Tell me, truly, were you singing?
I thought Heaven sang to me!
I will swim back home a-bringing
Your enchanting melody!
When the one embraced them hither, (they could not be saved by praying)
then Ioreth’s voice did wither, though they did a screaming try.
And the one took them down with her, where the rushes all are swaying;
We were far away and merry; we did not list to their cry
And Ioreth’s voice, reminder that we never truly die,
Ioreth’s voice will sing there
‘Til the rest of us reply.
Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 12:45 AM UTC