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Carlo C Gomez Oct 19
Not of ancient lore,
or some cross to bear.
But here. But now.
No Prince Charming
at the castle door.
Only her, Miss Damsel herself.
In some paper city,
called Zilch,
where things fall apart fast.
She's trapped in no tower,
but a loft instead.
With tin-foil crown,
she climbs across
the kitchen table
to slay the dragon,
in the flames
of his own black-hearted
bedevilment.
A dagger to the heart
of the matter,
and all is quiet again.
Then with a satisfied yawn,
she retires for her afternoon nap.
Simon Aug 1
Fantasy wasn’t always grim! It used to much more lighthearted than ALL facts put together into one fantasy collaboration. Which is exactly what’s happening in this very tale. This world. This setting. This… Well, there was once this one clan of people, who shined more than all other clans originating from the very same species who reigned as the “capital power”! An interspecies. A subspecies. Something that was greatly interwoven for many generations. Until one day, all clans became suddenly quiet. Distancing themselves from the very same who reigned as the capital power. One who merely outshined ALL the rest into complete seclusion! Doing something that was just part of their charm. Their charismatic behavior. Something that was docile (at first). Later on, showing it was entirely shameful of what they’d done too deserve whatever it was that gave them that very “capital power” to begin with. Seeing as how they control one of the most beautiful creatures that dominate the high mountain tops the world had ever looked up upon when kneeling down right at the setting foot of a monstrosity looked up to as a god! These very high mountain tops were where the most beautiful of creatures lived. Soaring higher than anything to have ever bear witness towards. A Griffin! The clan of the very species that was connected to all the other clans, are made up of the same originality! They are all related. Once. But entirely spread outward with benefits too ONLY…their own people. Their own clan. A testament to a claim willing to tear each other apart… Until there was nothing left but the once memory that echoed throughout the land. The world. Nothing but “ash” in the coming times would make this truth more fruitful than it truly appeared to be. A truth that would test this very clan that shined more brightly than all the other’s combined. The one with the so-called “capital power” would rather dethrone themselves completely! Than to give into fear of the contempt for their very actions. Something that tempts them (very much so) …. Another clan (so to speak). An enemy! Full of much more variety then the one who stood above the rest. The one (who in time) would come to be known simply… As the “Questionians”! Their very name comes from how they are a complete mystery. That may not exactly be what they essentially are called. Or refer to themselves (alone) as... Except when they do some unspeakable horror that claims witness to a crime that’d free every other clan put together (of the very same “original species” among different factions). If this exact thing actually took place, then everything would be put in complete shambles! Showing that they are the “shadow” of this very (“capital power”) clan’s democracy! A thing or force too GREATLY fear! Or else…. Or else, they would do something that would pave the groundwork for even truer fear to come about (sooner rather than later). Then what was actually taken seriously, previously. The clan that’s MOST “threatened” upon the arrival of the sudden “impending doom scenario” … Is none other than the clan known better as “the people of the Griff”! A very peaceful and agricultural people who don’t take anything out of account officially… Unless it truly meant something for them to bear witness to within their entire selves. Since there’s something very potentially “meddling” going on within these very people. First off, they keep too themselves “happily” alone. And unaided from the outside world and the rest of its (once) interconnected species that have spread out too wide to care (anymore) about coming back to the so-called “old days”. Old days when it was of the MOST prideful! Also, where the most of prime “examples” could be made and smoothed out for the better! But what the people of the Griff value even more (upon themselves directly) … Is the most beautiful creature in the land. The Griffin! A Griffin is perhaps the people of the Griff’s most prime example to the status of a mere god! The very homeland where they grow and stride and nurture their very motions upon the mountain tops that are also referred to as gods! But not to the people of the Griff…. O NO! They don’t look upon the mighty monstrosity that is their very “worshiping” deity. They worship the very creatures that live among the very tops of that very worshiping deity (that the other “separated” clans essentially worship). As time passed, they somehow were able to bind their very free will to this “blessing” that is these magnificent creatures! Binding also their very tolerances (to the Griffins itself). Just as life itself had also binded the people of the Griff (in time) to each other. Which is where the enemy comes in. The Questionians. Finally becoming “questioned” for why they’d have one of the most bizarre names for a “impending doom scenario” ever imagined! That’s because the enemy is literally questionless. They don’t have that which the people of the Griff just seem to (conveniently) have that they themselves…do not! Forcing the Questionians to claim (what they don’t have, to officially seize otherwise) for themselves…ONLY! But that was only apart of the tale that is made to be grim among ALL fantasy collaborations put together. As fantasy wasn’t always grim. Until the collapsing of a once (friendly) confrontation had already happened…long ago. Which sparked countless dangers that are totally unheard of… Until a hero was finally able to rise up above ALL others and risk the very land the people of this world breathed truthfully for themselves and themselves…alone! A hero who would (in due time) come about changing all specifics in a world that was once wholesome. Now it’s just a teetering land on the brink of war! War that was (more specifically) a mere illusion made to justify an even worse crime made to happen. The war effort was just a downplayed diversion not really bright for “comfort” itself to take rather seriously! However, the hero who’d come to truly redefine the locals of this land and its very world back into (seemingly) “ceremonial” times… Is a young man named “Salivardt”. Who apparently, is a member of the people of the Griff. Accompanied by the strongest heroine that would be this hero’s “go-getters” type guidance. Her name was that of the very feisty “Fabian”! Who has a very mysterious past (that is said: to be hinted at being a member of that very questionless clan group)? One who is on the brink of utter disorder from also (within themselves). And together, they would reach a very “breaking point” of how each of their very destinies “securely” …come together. (And how “linear” it must seem…) Would literally reintroduce the once (“interconnected”) state that each clan of the same species once shared. ALL coming back together into one singular species! Introducing a global front that is a respectful… “unifying whole”!
A “fantasy” testament of willpower both doesn’t a-and can’t agree with itself. Unless it’s politely willing too argue against something it’s never come across before… Until (once upon a time ago) something merely told it too…of a certain “destiny” going around!
PS… Would you certainly then start to argue against something you never came across before…?
Zywa Jul 27
Underwater under pressure
from mama, I have a constrictor
around my neck, I'm in danger
of dying without a life
I'm a born heroine

Under chairs under the table
I am saving the whole world
with the utmost courage
every day. Just wait
until I'm grown up, a heroine

Under warm sheep's wool
under stars and clouds
I awake bleeding, defenceless
like a lamb, I sink
into my fleece, like a heroine
Collection "Mosaic virus"
Is it awful?
Is it dreadful?
Or...
Is it pleasant?
Is it splendid?
No words can explain the sentiments of a soldier.
For it hurts more than a thousand raindrops of bullets,
A mountain of horrifying grenades,
A roaring line of cannons—
Bombing through the air.
And down below,
Bits of debris.
Scattered.
Covering the ground.
And she said:
“Take shelter my warrior.
But should you not forget.
For things will go smoothly.
Go now...
And never come back.
For the wind will take its place.
Strong and abrupt.
And then.
The dark.”
Songstress
by Michael R. Burch

for Nadia Anjuman

Within its starkwhite ribcage, how the heart
must flutter wildly, O, and always sing
against the pressing darkness: all it knows
until at last it feels the numbing sting
of death. Then life’s brief vision swiftly passes,
imposing night on one who clearly saw.

Death held your bright heart tightly, till its maw—
envenomed, fanged—could swallow, whole, your Awe.

And yet it was not death so much as you
who sealed your doom; you could not help but sing
and not be silenced. Here, behold your tomb’s
white alabaster cage: pale, wretched thing!

But you’ll not be imprisoned here, wise wren!
Your words soar free; rise, sing, fly, live again

Keywords/Tags: Nadia Anjuman, Afghanistan, Afghani poet, poetess, death, martyr, hero, heroine, voice, freedom, equality, justice
vonny Apr 13
my hands clutch the entirety of the earth

a globe of green and blue

my fingers are cupped

and they are kept up

the ocean and lands know of my worth

this is my job to do

but

however i smile and stand with might

i am scared to fall away

but my legs will shake

and the earth will quake

if i am afraid that i don't have the right

how can i save the day?
sometimes i feel a burden that i take care of everyone too much. its just my instinct to help people.
Amy
What they did to Amy
Wasn't so nice
Cut up by the destroyer's props
Killed, murdered?, by the Royal Navy
They killed poor little Amy
Who was freezing to death
In the cold water
The Thames Estuary is frigid in winter
Poor Amy had to bail out
Her plane was in trouble
Don't worry little lady
The navy will rescue you
Picked up by the Senior Service
Given a tot of *** and a blanket
It was never ever to be
The destroyer hit a sand bank
They tried to free the ship
It was too late for Amy
They spotted the girl in the sea
But revving the ship's engines finished her
Poor Amy was pulled into the props
Cut apart by like fish meat
A sailor saw this happen
He ran to the bridge and shouted
They shouted at him
Get out of Officer's Country
Do not speak to us like that again
Thus died Amy Johnson
Her death covered up by the navy
The government lied to her relatives and public
A British national heroine perished
Her death was preventable
The lies were unwarranted
Someone must be held accountable
I've seen her blue biplane
In the Manchester museum
It's called Jason
I bet it misses dear Amy
Murdered and lost at sea
New Dawn 2971
Nick Armbrister and other authors/poets/writers
Star BG Dec 2019
Ink is the heroine and pen the needle that moves guided by my fever. The ink pulsates within transmuting into words and phrases. My heart expands racing with visions. The side effect... a written poem that perhaps will give some peace. Peace from my addiction to live before it starts all over again. It is an addiction many a poet had to fight over centuries. Their lesson let it flow let it grow.
I wrote this in response to Suzanne Berlinsky response to my other poem Writing Bug (part one)  Thanks
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
You had a gut feeling
right out of your catnap, didn’t you?
An SOS from a UFO?
Who had ever heard
of something so preposterous?

The Captain was a company man,
which is a nice way to say
'corporate puppet.'
His equally duped thrill-seeking buddy
got caught with egg on his face,
before giving birth to one ugly baby.

Did anyone help clean up
the petrified chick,
or post a stupid sign
on the Captain's forehead?
Levity was in short supply this far out,
apparently reason was too,
this explains how a game of hide and seek
morphed into ten little indians.

But surprise, surprise!
Science guy was a skin job.
How sad, how sad!
All your fellow employees
came to a sticky end.
Only your nine-lived four-legged
friend somehow held out.

Sandwiched neatly between
a rock and a hard place,
you revised the game plan,
‘twas time to punch your ticket
for the last wagon out of town
and strip down to your skivvies.
Hey, whatever floats your boat!

Only to your chagrin
you discovered a ****** in close quarters,
trying to hitch a nightmare of an Uber ride.
No damsel in distress here,
vexed over his ****** advances
you joined the #MeToo movement,
then ignited the overgrown termite
and made him eat your dust,
until a crushed soda can
on its way to the recycling center.
Not bad for a warrant officer!
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