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Cristin 6d
A captive is what I think I shall be,
for Halloween this year—in 2023.
Burdened by the weight of other’s fear.
Trapped.
Sitting silenced in a cage full of expectations.
And rage.

Confined, bound.
No one around.

Who if not I, can release this relentless pressure?
Hopelessly, I await for the right partner—
To take my hand, help me stand.
And get my **** together.

To walk with me, out of captivity.
The place that haunts me.
How long must my sentence be?

Oh, how I yearn to be set free.
Take this wretched costume off.
Just. Be. Me.

Underneath it all,
I am a strong and capable woman.
I can walk out of this on my own!
Saunter about, like royalty
Onward to the throne.

Amen, I am captive no more.
For I chose the latter path,
After all, it suits me most admirably.

It is at my core, a crown can be found.
Seek and you shall see,
an exquisite Queen, standing her ground.
Not just on Halloween, but in actual reality.
Throwback piece from 2023
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
The poem I’d sit down with,
every intention of writing,
but could not come up with
the right words.
Sweet, but fierce.
Discarding perfection,
only asking for presence.
A flower that learned to survive
in a drought.

She is a poem that takes
the pieces of herself and
arranges them in love.
Not the loving pieces easily
found in the light
that’s too easy.
But the pieces that accidentally
wandered in the dark and got lost.
The pieces of herself she forgot
were there.
She takes her time,
finding these pieces and putting them
back where they belong.

When she speaks,
her tongue is like a hammer,
hammering every nail that needs
to be put into place.
Even if she misses and, instead,
hits her hand,
she doesn’t tear everything down
regardless of how much it may benefit her.
She repositions herself
and starts again.

She is the poem I never wrote,
but always wanted to write.
As hard as it is to start again,
she’s never afraid to start again
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
There are many clothes in the world
that you can try on today
be it designer brand name or not,
that can fit on a clothing rack.
Just because something is made
doesn’t mean that you must fit it,
or the expectation of wearing it.

Not everything is going to fit.
Not everything is going to be your size,
including emotions.

Nothing good comes from waiting
for someone else’s approval.
If someone sees you,
let them see you for the remarkable
beauty that you are.


No matter if you mix and match,
or if you have on the full set.
Even if you see someone wearing
their emotions, and it’s the type of person
you want to be,
there is nothing wrong with trying something on.
But don’t get mad if it doesn’t fit.
It may not be the right time for you right now.

There is power in letting go.
There is also power in walking away.
There is no need to pretend that you’re less than
trying to keep up with a trend.
There is a lot of power in letting go,
and finding all the beautiful things
that you were meant to be
Bekah Halle Oct 2024
Forgets, frail and frozen,
Where hath your warmth but gone?
Fall back into the arms of love,
Peace, trust and hope; the one to whom your life is sworn.

Gadgets and gizmos; the testimonials to technological triumph,
Are great at numbing reality
and distracting you from life.
From feeling, from crying and hoping...
Placebos try to lull you but inevitably
lead to more strife.

Debt, disconnection and ultimately desolation,
Not the promised life,
But the meaningless; that will cut
Your soul with an eternal knife.

Wake up sleepy from your sewer slumber,
Reach inside, not to the devices, but to your heart,
Tis your lifeblood of existence,
And nurture all cells and selves till death you part.

Arise and shine;
Reflect His glory.
Leach back from the lure of the labyrinth of darkness.
Tis the season to live out your story.
Anais Vionet Oct 2024
We’re on October break, which is a 6-day weekend. For the last two weeks, everyone’s been making plans.
“What do you think of Cancún?” Sunny’d asked me.
“The only people going to Mexico are on the cheap or trapped in a trunk.” I’d answered.

After two weeks of weighing every conceivable terrestrial destination, amenities and available attractions, we (there’s six of us suitemates - Sunny, Lisa, Leong, Anna, Sophy and I) settled on good old Manhattan, where you’ll find us in adjoining-suites atop the Plaza hotel (thanks, Grandmère).

Things went CrA-CrA (crazy with a capital K) right off the bat. Sunny, as it turns out, KNOWS people here, and we decided to ‘walk on the wild side’ for one or two nights and check out a few fem-facing clubs. Now I know how sensitive we all are about pronouns, and what-not, but I’m going to try to simplify for a broad audience. These are lesbian clubs.

One thing I like about Music is sharing it with friends. Communities have always formed around art in whatever form. There are book clubs, film societies, Trekkies, Swifties and apparently, wild-*** lesbian dance clubs.

On our first night in Manhattan, the sun had barely set when Sunny said, “Ok then, let’s go!” And off we went to a “Femmquerade Ball”. I think that’s a combo of ‘feminine, queer and masquerade.’ She’d told us beforehand what to wear, “Take sweatshirts, those will come off - it gets hot in there - otherwise t-shirts, jeans and ballet flats - no purses.”

You know, I thought punk music was dead, ideating its death somewhere in the 90s. I was wrong, it’s ALIVE.
You know, when everyone’s feelin’ it, when two hundred people are rocking as one, club-life is transcendent. The club vibe was interesting too, there was a safety and freedom to it. You're in a crowded club, somehow without the limitations of the banal male gaze, with its sexist expectations. I don’t know how else to describe it.

I don’t think music has to have a message to earn its place as art. Folk romance music’s ok, jazz has its reach, opera is still happening and of course there’s regular dance music - cause sometimes, you’ve just gotta jiggle it.

That being said, there’s a saying that “Punk is truth” and that comes from its rawness and authenticity.
Punk has a ‘low barrier of entry’, as the academics say. It’s a game anyone can play. Punk isn’t autotuned, the bands use second-hand guitars, there are no synthesizers, the speaker stacks were shared, the vocalists lacked training, and I’d guess that none of the players were burdened with unpaid Juilliard tuition.

Punk’s always been outsider art, a scream along, you can’t go wrong, fire and every punk song is a garage invitation to joyously rage. As we drove to the club, Sunny had said, “Think of punk as dance music without inhibitions. It's straightforward and unapologetically for the people who can’t bother to keep to the dance steps and aren’t above getting in each other’s precious space.” Every word of that was true.

Punk lyrics are about the problems and issues of real-world people. It’s a roll call, a manifesto, implicit and explicit in stylish screaming. I’ve always called it scream-0. The point being, that while the rest of the world is restrained, heteronormative and reduced to a corporate gray backdrop, there’s still room for comradery, agency, outrage, pumpkin-Jello-shots (@ $16 each) and a bit of winking fun.

We DID have fun but I’ve been hoarse all day today. As we’d climbed into the car, last night, for the ride back to the Plaza, Mr. & Mrs Charles pointedly removed ear plugs from their ears - the kind they give to airport workers who work around jet engines all day. Charles laughed and said something, but I couldn’t hear him.
My ears were still ringing.
.
.
Songs for this
Rebel Girl by Bikini ****
Hash Pipe by Weezer
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: 10/13/24
Ideate = form an idea about something

Our cast…
My Yale suitemates: Sunny (Nebraska), Leong (Macao, China), Lisa (Manhattan), Anna (Oregon), Sophy (CA) and I (GA). The Charleses = Charles, my long-time escort (a retired NYPD cop) and his wife, Chynthia.
Grandmère = my Grandmother.
Yottalomaniac Sep 2024
Who is which –
I the One, or the other?
Another another…
Here I hear the ones
each the other,
Noone the One.

You they pray to,
ask for You they do.
Yet their aim never be true…

Antaios the Somber,
Hercules‘ Challenger.
Weather the bother,
wake a slumped Brother –
You, Antaios Above!
At first, I asked myself if I was someone's one, or merely someone's another. Then I asked if I was a One, or Another. At last, I joined Antaios.

A tribute to my favorite Poet: Vladimir Holan.
When you look to the truth as your task
Then you may find it’s too much to ask
To go searching inside
Where the monsters all hide
Underneath your most virtuous mask
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