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let me rip away the ivory
from the elephant in the room
rebuke its presence
cover my ears
so i don’t have to realize
these anxieties you bring
they long to dethrone me
rip apart each bone
pick apart this broken brain of mine
with each triggered nerve
i scream it’s okay
putrid false indifference
hopeful lies
for the barren sober pain
-------------------------------------------------------



H́ͨ̆ͪ̉­̴̛̫̥̳̪̘̫͙̟ͪ̈̓ͨ͟ͅE̶̊͒̔̀͛̌͡͏̛͉̦͚͚͔͝ ̵͑̔͗ͥ̉̐͋̈ͥ͒͑̋ͨ̍͂̚͏͕̼̲̫̥̫̮̙͖̤̮͖͓̲͍͍̀̕W̢̹͕̫͇̙̞͇̪̌̋̆̔̃͛͛ͩ͐̊̃ͨ̅ͮ̍͊̈́́̚­͉͕͍̞̱̠ͅͅA̛͆̋ͩ̓͋̓҉̶͙̣̹̥̩̘̪S̡̃ͤ͗̒̐̊͛̍̕͞͏̰͍͖̥̦͎̻̱̪̪̙̭̫͔͚̘̣͉ͅ ̵̉̈́̌̾̿ͪͤ̃̈́͏̡̗̪̦̹̪̟̞̪̗͇̯ͅN̸̢̨̺̱͉͙̝̖̣̻̺̳͔̮̱̜̪͚̠̤̜ͬͮ͐ͤ̋ͪͩ̇̂̀͊̉̏ͦ̏̌ͧ̑­O̵̡̹͓̣͙̘͈̩̳̫̼̖͙͌̂̃̚͘͠Ṭ̢͓̭̦̣̗̩̭̪͉͓ͤͬ̋̎̓̾̔͛͛̔͂̾ͬ̄͊ͦͥ̅͡ ̧ͩͤ̑̿̿̇̚͘͏̢̛̯̬͍̹̳̘͇̥̩̣̩̟̤̺͉A̶̴̬̗͍̥̞̞̩̝̩̣̰̳ͯ̎ͥ̏̃ͮͤ̆̋̏͜͜Lͨ̀̄̏̓̉̋͆̋̇­̸̧͔̼̰̪̱͕̞̺̬̼̘̟̭ͥ͐͒̅͗͠͝͠W̧̖͙̞̪͙͙ͮ̑ͥ͆͛̌̽ͭ͐̌ͩͦ̓́̚̚͘ͅA̰̺̝͙͖̻̹̘̣͌ͨ̾̓͢͜­̬̣̺Y̢͎̹̩̺̦̬͚͉̲͎͓͉̅̄̽̅̎̏̎̌͂̃ͫͭ͞͞S̴̵̨̠̞̖̠̳̖͇̓̇ͧͮͥ͗͑̅̃̾͗͂ͨ͊́̆ͨ͢͢ ͦ͌̌̃̋̒̽͜͏̴̧̪̯̻͙͇̙͈͉̠̠͇̜͈͇͍̣͕̞͢L̵ͪ̊̏̃ͭ̒͊҉҉̞̰̣̥̺͙̣̥̳̠̹̭̘̜̜̙Iͨ̂ͬ̑̿͋͐­̲̗̹͓̠̜͕̞̞̻͙̞͚̼̫̲̞̣̟̃͑̓̃̂͊͛̅̓ͥ̕͜K̅͊ͤ̃̊͂ͮ͊͒̒̎̿҉́͡҉͏̖̯̜̜͔̪̖̟̙̞̺͎̦̖̠E­̶̶̵̪̱̺͍̫͎̣̾̽̂̾̒ͣ̀ͬ̏̐̿ͭ̿͟͡ ̸̧̡̞̠̻̟́̅ͮ̋̕͢T̡̢̼͕̝̠̼̩̜̜͓̠̱̘̜̲̦́͆ͩͨ̈͊ͮ̆̈͑͐̚͜͢͝ͅH̡ͫͧ͛̐ͦ̋ͣ̔̓̾͆͐ͥͯ̚͢­͕͉̤̫̹̟͇̭́I̷̧̨̒ͬ̇ͬ̾̆ͬ̂̌͌͏͍͍͔̖̮̪̖͓̰͎̪Ş̴̰̭̜͓͚̖̯̦͇͓̞̹̼̺͖̐ͪ̐̅͒̚̕͘



­--------------------------------------------------------
He wasn't. Thanks for understanding, Lydia.. Lydia is angry.. Someone's hurt him..
This is Lydia speaking.
I picture them in a balmy hallway,
far-corner huddled; quietly, urgently
comparing their notes on ways I have loved.

They'll laugh at lame jokes and avoid eye contact,
each surprised by their own awkwardness.
One of them will quip the term
'eskimo brother'
and immediately wish he hadn't.
The rest will kindly ignore it.
The moment will pass.

They will slowly shed their discomfort.
They will remove their coats.
Sweat will bloom at collars
and trace knotty bumps of spine before
pooling into the space between
boxers and belt.

They won't openly discuss the
strange comradery
that accompanies the lazy river evenings spent drifting down the same mind-
but the tension pulling across
each of their jaws
will announce loud and clear
how frustrating it has
been to be cropped,
tucked in, paper fortune teller folded
and wrapped up into someone else’s idea of poetry.


Casually
then all at once,
they will get started.
Printed pages will uncoil from backpacks,
phones will emerge from pockets
and fingers slightly shaking
will chase the letters
of my name through search engines.

My sticky poems will fan out across floorboards.
They will lower their bodies carefully, not quite kneeling,
(and without mention of the bad knees they happen to share.)
They'll hover above each piece of evidence
and their eyes will crash along titles and memories-
they'll read with raised
eyebrows and pretend as if
they don't already know
each poem, each quick dig, by heart.

When they start claiming
and denying pieces
they will do so lightly
and without judgment.
'This piece is about you and the dry, delicate
tissue-shell of skin
she held out for you after you told
her to shed.
But this piece- this piece is about me
and the messy ointment
that ruined her clothes and
stained her blankets.
A doctor instructed she
apply the ointment to her hands
twice a day to treat
the burns my silence left
across her arms and throat.'

They will share a bit of rage,
A bit of regret.
A bit of shame, perhaps.
They will either miss me intensely
or not at all.
They will either own up
to the poems they begat
or begin refuting.
They don’t want any of
this chilly weight on their soul.
I understand.

They didn’t sign up for this, I know that.
They didn’t set out to rock me,
nor to dig down deep and get to my China.
I was happy to share, to whisper and recite blurry
morning confessions and epiphanies.
I was right behind them running toward the sand dunes,
waving a shovel and pail.
But I can’t feel bad either.
You all must have known:

If you happen to fall for a girl
who writes you must realize
that every smile you put on her face,
every stray hair you’ve pushed back from her eyes,
and quick habit she starts to crave
is fair game.

If a girl who writes happens to fall for you too--
forget it.
You will find echoes of the way your souls fit and fought
together until she has nothing left to feel on the subject;
(and you must be well aware
she's tidal, her feelings are icecaps,
they are melting but will trickle fresh
and renewed for centuries to come.)
Shuffled deck; fetch me three of Seventy-Eight cards.
First:

Queen of Swords
"This fine Sword of honest metal
is a more true an Ally
than many of Flesh indeed prove to be."

Much like Athena,
The Queen of Swords
is symbolic of progress;
always keen on new ideas;
though she is not One to leave herself defenseless,
her faithful Sword stands
always by her side.


Second of the three,
of the still Seventy-Seven:

Two of Swords
"Distracted by conflict
'twixt Heart and Mind,
I hold two Swords and bide my Time."

Two of Swords
stands between Moon and Water;
the Shadow and the Subconscious
the darkness and the unknown.

The Two of Swords
is blindfolded
and in her blissful ignorance
maintains her precarious balance,
for now.


The third of three random cards;
leaving Seventy-Five unturned:

Knight of Swords
"Feast your eyes upon this, my plan;
I wager thou hath, in all thy wretched days,
ne'er so beauteous a thing beheld!"

The Knight of Swords
is a keen poet and a fine musician;
though perhaps not romantically.

She dabbles for the sake of the intellect,
and seeks that those things be playthings thereof.
She is symbolic of progress through new ideas
and of the eloquence of a well-laid plan.

Being of the House of Swords,
she revels in the stimulation of intellect
and the effective use of wisdom.
She usually yields only to herself
and marches to the beat of her own convictions,
all the while
keeping her eyes
on the prize.

-
All of these Cards
are of the House of Swords.
There's about a 1 in 166 chance
of getting 3 of the 14 Swords
out of a random deck of 78 cards.

I got the Queen of Swords as my third card last time
and the first card this time;
There's 1 in approximately 676 chance
of getting the same card
in two consecutive sets of three cards
from a random 78 card deck.

(im)Probabilities aside:

The Suit of Swords is generally associated with:
one's ways of thinking, systems, ideas, and communication.

It has much to do with
what we chose to do with our Minds
and it also is symbolic of the power of
the stories we tell ourselves and each other.

The Swords are indeed double-edged in Tarot.

It has to do with the power of information
and with that comes delusion,
and, inexorably,
paradox.

Patterns do exist, however.
Upon these patterns
foundations may be built,
the same is true within myself;
I can choose to use all these Swords
to cut through this cage of Shadow
and set free the Light once more
rather than allowing myself
to myself fall victim to the Swords
through inaction or misuse
though only if I tread lightly
and thoughtfully
and proceed with tact;
that much is clear.

Sword is the sign of Air;
perhaps the message here is simply
"Remember to breathe."
Second reading I've bothered to share and explicate on.

First is found here: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/dabbling-in-divination-tarot/

All three cards were of the house of Swords, which is sort of an omen of intellectual conflict within one's self. It can also be indicative of an imminent change that may take a minute to get one's head around. Whatever the case, it has been insightful for me, and I hope it has been at least interesting to you, as a reader!

PS:
Yes, I used my calculator to get those stats.
Basic probability and graphing calculators are wonderful things!

78 cards:
21 major
56 minor
in 4 suits
with 14 each,
drawing 3 cards
1 at a time;
interesting numbers arise.
 Mar 2020 Megitta Ignacia
Hg
needle
 Mar 2020 Megitta Ignacia
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 Mar 2020 Megitta Ignacia
Stanley
Poems aren't written,
they're found,
Somewhere in your head the words are waiting,
They're sprawled across the floor,
You just need to pick them up,
Make a path with them,
Let your path guide observers,
And if you can't write,
Walk down somebody's else's path first,
First poem I've written, to anybody who reads this is hope you enjoyed it and it made you day a little better
 Mar 2020 Megitta Ignacia
REY
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
 Mar 2020 Megitta Ignacia
Nat
I know I shouldn’t
But I can’t fight the urge
I miss you
My feelings overwhelm me
Im about to send the message
Then erase it all
I know i can’t
But it’s so hard
You’re the only person i feel this way for
My comfort is you
I won’t
But my emotions are drowning me
I need to release
I send the message
I feel Better
But i wonder if it’s the right decision
You don’t respond till later
I couldn’t help it
I needed you
I miss you .

-n.y.g
The message You’ll never receive
Sat there, while it was pouring
Was drenched, but he was grinning
For he was able to provide shelter to the abandoned "pets"
While he himself was homeless.
.....
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