#plurality
Inside a pomegranate's red core,
I listened, hidden, wanting more.
A tiny seed, so new and bright,
Dreamed dreams of sun, and air, and light.
"Someday," it said, with hopeful sound,
"I'll be a tree, on fertile ground.
The wind will sing a leafy song,
And I'll be beautiful, strong, and long."
Another seed, a little old,
Its youthful fancy now grown cold,
Said, "Those were dreams I used to hold,
But life's a story, often told,
Of hopes that fade, and futures grim,
These dreams of yours are far too slim."
A third seed sighed, "I cannot see,
Such greatness waiting there for me."
A fourth cried out, "But if it's true,
No future waits, what shall we do?
Our life a joke, a pointless seed?"
A fifth seed asked, "A futile deed,
To guess the future, when we don't
Know even what we are, we won't."
The sixth declared, with certain air,
"Whatever we are, we'll always share."
The seventh whispered, soft and low,
"I know the path, but cannot show."
Then voices rose, a growing hum,
The eighth, the ninth, the tenth had come.
Each had a thought, a different plea,
A swirling mass, confusingly.
Too many voices, loud and fast,
I couldn't tell which dream would last.
So, seeking peace, a quiet place,
I moved to quince, with silent grace,
Where fewer seeds, in slumber deep,
Held secrets they would softly keep.
Oct 23, 2025
Oct 23, 2025 at 7:45 PM UTC
Once
One
Oblivious to the pain of the world
And of herself
The split
Began
When she could not handle
Her reality
One
Became
Three
But they were not done
These troubled souls
Mourned
Together
Held each other up
But it was not enough
They were
Helpless
Doomed to watch their cruel fate unfold
So three grew into five
Five
Different
The same
Whole
Divided
They thought they were done
Five is plenty
But 6
7?
Must be
Better
Safety in numbers
A motley family
Concealed inside a single
Body
Pain
And safety
Dissociation
And protection
We are a far cry from that little girl
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 4:02 PM UTC
They told us we're insane
We were under attack
Helpless
Afraid
But we triumphed
Alii Semper Vincemus!
We triumphed
And everything is going to be ok
But we couldn't have done it alone
Without each other
we would have failed
One to be friendly
and social and innocent
To be adored and underestimated
One to stand firm
and protect and defend
To keep on fighting till there's nothing left
One to charm
and be unbothered by everything
To be confident and relaxed and fearless
One to strategize
and organize and lead
to know just how to get what we want
One to prove that we are correct
and whose purpose is not yet known
To make mistakes but make up for them
One to keep us all together
and appear as though we are solid and one
To be a mix and mediate and rejoice in our triumph
We are the Others, all of us united
Though difficult to understand
I have been taught that faith is about not needing to understand
to believe it is real
And this has been a true test of faith
But the Others are as real as anyone else
And I will never stop fighting for them
and for me
Alii Semper Vincemus!
Feb 20, 2025
Feb 20, 2025 at 11:14 PM UTC
I remember a time when we were one, when we were what they called "whole,"
a budding self wandering the forest of childhood in quiet awe
and I remember the hunters.
the words, locked doors in the cold, and worse;
how they struck her through the heart, how her legs gave way,
how she crumpled to the ground and bled
and bled
as the forest withered around her.
And now we are here, tired children of the dried-up husk,
stumbling through a world that sees us as deluded, dangerous,
or perhaps, at best, a child's game.
We are weary. We are wounded, we are sharp and jagged edges,
but we are also so much more.
We have become so much more. No simple collection of fragments,
but the family we never had -
the family we deserved.
Together, I know we'll find our place in the sun,
unbreakable as many as we never were as one.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 9:13 PM UTC
At first, I feared you. You were a monster,
and here I was, trapped in my body with you.
You were fangs, claws, hissed words and glowing, scornful eyes. A shadow, lurking always at the back of my mind.
I wished you would go away.
I tried so hard to make you go away.
But then, we both learned to listen.
I listened to you, and saw how badly I was allowing people to treat me - treat us.
You listened to me, and saw how you had driven people away from you - from us.
I saw the chances I had not taken,
and you saw the chances that had been lost,
thanks to fear, to pride, to shame.
And so we made our peace, and walked into the future, together.
And now I see you today: kneeling to speak to children, holding porcelain and hands with the utmost care -
frail, small, lovely things in a world of coldness, of cruelty, that you rise to meet with iron in your eyes and sincerity in your soul -
and I wonder how I could have ever wanted you gone.
Feb 27, 2019
Feb 27, 2019 at 9:09 PM UTC
Close. Welcoming. My
name. David. Absurdly—I mean, out of
tune. Ordinary language permits
the paraphrase:
Things could have been. But
actually are. Countless ways,
certain descriptions. To consider,
“ways things could have been.”
Things might be. The possibilities,
the propositions, the structures.
© Matthew Harlovic
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
With the box lid closed
It's dark inside,
There are no colours
We can't abide.
But a golden sliver of light seeps in,
To expose the colours there within.
We see red when enraged,
And scarlet dancers crowd our stage;
A red-blooded male brags virility
Through rose-coloured glasses of masculinity.
Some grow green with envy,
Reveal they're yellow in enmity,
Are blue when feeling empathy,
Turn blue holding out for sympathy,
Are tickled pink with comedy,
And white as a sheet with tragedy,
Or brown-nosed with syncophany.
If your yellow-bellied you may run,
And green-gilled after Jamaican ***
Write purple prose when versifying,
Ashen coloured when you're dying.
True colours show outside the box,
Use grey cells to colour unorthodox.
Our true colours are harlequin,
That fade to black at our end.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC