Muck bit her ivory nightgown, as if earth hungering
after her...the delicate collapse of a napkin,she.
Hours poured atop her head, her shaggy, silvery
mane suspended--its reluctant bounce captured
at midpoint...as a spiderweb under ultraviolet light.
Desert sands lost in contemplation, reminiscent of
her flesh--divulge her core as she sleeps in a
fetal position.
Her body spasms awkwardly...its will visibly slowed
from initial motion.
As the paralysis experienced by prey amid the astral
annals of nightmares.
She'll rise into that shine, wonder at the nightmare's
symbology...talk to her garden--whilst thinking of her
time to come.


Silkworm breached the parcel
of time, its cocooned inertia
coarsed through the opalescent
eye of God to Godhood.
Of time's ruination redeemed
in a solitary work...cupped
airless the unbridled form of
a trapezist spent itself.
Opened and closed somersaults
atripped a piece of said space...
nothingness regenerated to
move, to take step of itself.
A self-argumentative abstraction
glowed...undid its silken flag--
firmly planted in an undiscovered
region...her time come.

For years I have had poetry misconstrued
Thinking about what it was technically
Instead of thinking about what it was actually
Because technically poetry is nothing more than words on a sheet of paper
It has just been arranged in a certain way to tell a story

I remember my first days of writing poetry
Personally I thought that it was gay
And because I knew how to write it so well I questioned my sexuality
It bothered me so much in fact, there came a time I attempted to hide the forbidden skill
Ha,that didn't last very long

My first poem dates back to the year 2006,when I was in third grade.
It was ,"simply amazing", according to my teacher
I can recall because I ripped it up hoping to never see a poem again
I hated poetry with a passion due to the fact it coarsed through my veins
I didn't see another poem until the six grade

It was then I met this girl named Deja,a fanominal poet
She would always brag in our second period literature class how she was just the best
I slick had a crush on her but I'd never tell her that
She claimed I was nothing compared to her
So I laughed and wrote the poem, "Different I May Be,"

Never once other then that moment did I get her to hush
She actually began to blush a little though we pretended that never happened
Her eyes were both just wow
They spoke fierce yet sweet
I really was falling deeply for her

That day I finally opened my eyes beginning to think that poetry really wasn't gay
That it was actually a beautiful thing
Though I didn't start actually writing poetry until the end of that year,
After I read the poem,I know why the caged bird sings",by Maya Angelou
I kind of owe this rediscovery of my lost talent to Deja,again I will never admit that to her

She made me realize what poetry was actually
That it is a collaboration of both heart and soul
Using words to express emotions that were seen as taboo at a time
So Deja if by some miraculous chance you see this
I would like to say thank you for opening my eyes to the world of poetry

you tried to break me.
but you didnt know that i was already strong.
im shatter resistant against your words that should have pierced but didnt.
i was already built to resist you.

im resistant to shatter because ive already been shattered before.
ive been broken and ive always been the one to pick up the pieces of glass and reconstruct the mirror.
and in the end of building it back, i just see myself more,
and the pained expression i bore through our relationship.

i fell for you.
your bathwater eyes seeped me in until i was swallowed whole by you.
and now im left in the dark, being swallowed in thoughts of you.
swallowed thoughts of you my immunse system cant digest -
so i threw up.

your toxicity poisoned my vessels.
replaced what was once me into now whats of you.
the lies you fed me coarsed through me till it became a part of me-
now apart from you.
i let your toxic violate me if it meant it never abandoned my body.
i hated being apart from you.
and now i only realise that is the consequence of drugging myself with you.
in my veins, blood, life
and in the heart
that once beated for you.

im shatter resistant.
sticks and stones may break my bones but you never broke me.
i became damaged, but never broken.
but damage heals,
like broken bones.
and like broken bones it’ll heal and be even stronger.

resistant to the next.
resistance to the next.

you just have to remember those times when it worked, when magic existed and coarsed through your veins.

Knights Templar
Disbanded,
or in full force,
perhaps no explanation,
needed for this course
Just understanding
of the force
Bloodline requirement,
fully coarsed
Hierarchical system,
without remorse

© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney