runicrigel

[runicrigel]

Residuals

In an atomic flash the cathedral that I have erected

Will be reduced to ash and pyre

Coordinated combustion with violence and indifference

The pulpits will be made concave and implode

The lectern will be scrubbed from existence

The domes will sag and crumble

Staunch white light will purify each narrow corridor

Where letters were stored tight in between wooden planks

Each priceless piece and thing that might flee those narrow halls

Will bubble and evaporate into a residue of grease with the others

The resident vermin will follow the draft from stone burrows to earth

Tasked with nesting in a new unsuspecting patch

As the church is raised, and the foundation caves into the land

There will be only one artefact that remains

The piece I left with you

Photo Credit: Wanlop Udompornvirat

#poetry #original poetry #writing #love #writer #poem #grief #loss

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So Called Complex Grief

CW:  Death, anxiety, depression, grief

When you are in the throws

Of illusionary failure

The concept of feeling too deeply

In and of itself

Begins to feel like another anomaly

Of the human condition

It, unto itself, seems to be errant

I think of the terminology

Used to describe my terminal

Mental illness

Complex grief

Complex post-traumatic stress

For a chronic person

If grief is the symptom of love

What kind of mourning

Can be so disorderly as to be

Distinguished as complex?

These diagnosis make me feel quantifiable

Yet lead me to questions like

Why and what is this ailment? and

If one method can be complex

In both cure and feeling

And the other not so then

Have I somehow failed by feeling greatly?

I know that it’s coming for me again

The disorder sits on my periphery

Waiting to swallow me in a torrent of

Confusion and inevitability

I wonder if when I’m devoured finally

If I will leave someone with complexity

In their hurt

And although I would never

Wish this pain on anyone

It makes me sad

As so many things, so often do

To think I might not leave anyone

With so deep a scar

As was left unto me by baring

A love so catalytic that the impact

Of a death 

left an exit wound

That without staunch and binding

Might have taken two for one

#spilled ink #poetry #original poem #original writing #writing #grief #love #mental health #mental illness #anxiety #depression #ptsd #poet #death

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I have overcome so much

But I still worry

I have not been brave enough

#poetry #spilled ink #original poetry #thoughts

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A Certain Shade

Your body left behind art

A stranger bore witness

To that hawk seizing you mercilessly

My stomach churned as I watched

Knowing you were to late to be saved

That maybe you shouldn’t be saved

That hawks grow hungry in Winter too

With each death tremor and flutter

She shook the life from you

With such power and indifference

Before she left the ground, talons full

I walked towards the puddle of blood

Stained ying yang of sidewalk and snow

I had never seen that color red before

It was more absurd than any rendering

I had ever seen in the movies

To neon to be real, pigmented enough

To hide stone underneath

Freshly driven on days old ice and dirt

Maybe it’s just my own mortality

That lighted on my conscious mind

As that raptor escorted you into the sky

Perhaps it’s all deeply selfish

The unnerving sadness of the impotent 

As life succumbs to claws and trauma

The news that the capital had been overrun

Hit my eyes, screen glowing as I walked on

In the night I came to realize that

I had been passed over for my stimulus

Sitting amongst tranquil colors of blue

White walls all around

I ached again and thought only of red

I thought of you

and I felt small

Author’s Note:  I didn’t get a lunch at school today.  Around 4 pm I walked to my usual lunch spot to get food that would be dinner.  I spotted this hawk taking down a pigeon.  It was alarming.  The blood, the pigeon slowly fighting and dying in it’s grasp.  When I looked at my phone my friends were alerting me that the capital was being overrun.  Later, I realized I wouldn’t be receiving my stimulus.  Death effects me deeply.  There have been three deaths of birds in particular that have impacted me greatly.  One such memoir is on here.  Perhaps I’ll write something to include all three.  Today’s events left me feeling raw and mortal.

#spilled ink #nature #poetry #poem #writing #writer #sad #news #america #politics #birds #hawk #love #life #inspiration #original poem #poet

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$600 Dollars

They say there was a weirdness in the night

Some creature came up caterwauling

No one dared to look through their windows

When that orb hung in the air on a lone stage

No audience, just a forest of buildings

That cry going up in the dark, through the train

Who abandoned who?

Foregone applause on the seventh hour

To that symphony of death

No sirens call now

Just that yowling coming up

Out’ve the dryer vents, percolators

Rolled up into one thick smog like a soup

That made you hold your breath

Narrow the eye

Hand at the level of your mouth

Wondering what to do when a wage is the war

Words like intubation yodel through the mind

Before that wretched grating cry comes up

Past a hollow face on a glowing screen

Behind a veil of plastic, cloth and tape

Cut short by a cord down the throat

Who abandoned who?

The hands of the hearst drivers are full

The grave diggers mits are heavy with spade

The politician leers at a dollar and shaves it down

To place coins on the eyes of their constituents

Their fingers curl, palms close up one last time - empty

Under the buzz of florescent lights

In the shadow of strangers with streaked faces

#corona #corona virus #coronavirus #covid19 #poetry #prose #originalpoem #poem #spooky #horror #politics #loss #grief #corrupt #relationships #death #spilled ink #poet #poems #original writing #writing #love

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A Word of Caution for Wealth

If you pray to the gods of wealth, fame and plenty

If you lay your lips upon that alabaster stone

You must lay down your heart as a point of entry

Possess already within you the will to obtain and to own

If you seek all that is faceted and shimmers

If your fingers long to touch what so few obtain

Then you must reach out your hand to the mirror

And believe all your dragons already to be slain

The gods of all that are golden and heavy

Listen for each copper to ring out loud and true

If you plead on behalf of fear or long with envy

Then the maw of money will open to devour you

So bend upon your knees with the greatest of caution

Spread and cup your hands with slow and tremulous heed

For in the end we will all face our rest in the coffin

And no coin has ever held, weighted or extended the deed

Writer’s Note:  An original poem inspired by the rituals I’ve been doing to liberate myself from scarcity mindset.

#money #wealth #success #poetry #original poetry #poet #prose #writing #writer #originalwriter #lymerick #relationships #prayer #gods #mythology #spilled ink #coin #gold

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True Love

I am learning to be kind to myself

To clean my glasses

When they’re frosty with fingertips

So that I can see

Little sweet things that a lover

Might do delicately

Without fanfare

I do for myself, whispering

Affectionate nothings

Into the shadowed parts

of my mind

I clean away the self-doubt

Like I smear the lens clear

#love #affection #original poetry #spilled ink #writing #writer #self love #self care #poems #poetry

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Truant Prayer

Listen God

I know you aren’t here

But I’m begging you

Please

Take this away from me

Apply leeches

Proverbial or otherwise

Adhere them to my skin

Remove this slow death

This subtle aching

That lies just beneath

My conscious mind

Glacial and melting

Seeping between my ears

Swelling in my heart and mind

Ice water sitting

At the back of my throat

And base of my neck

An ache in my head

When the water can’t flow

Out of my eyes

To relieve all the pressure

Building

It’s been three decades now

I remember it as a child

Staring out knowing

Something was wrong then

Just as I know it now

Please

I never asked for this

These echoes and illusions

Intermittent and spearing

Lift this shroud

Find an humble servant

Already flagellated and wanting

I plea to you robbed of id

Let me live

Even while knowing

The cruel likelihood

That though godhood you claim

My adversary you remain

Abandoned to this pendulum

Both in waking 

and in dream

Condemned by a choice

I didn’t get to make

Author’s Note:  Yes, I’m okay.  But you don’t live with CPTSD without feeling both chemically and emotionally the ripples and shutters from time to time.  I often find myself wishing that, due to many years of child abuse, bartering with myself and managing my symptoms were not a part of my daily life.

#spilled poetry #spilled guts #spilled ink #spilled words #please #ptsd #anxiety #depression #macabre #poetry #original poetry #writing #writer #original Writing #poet #dream #mental health #prayer #atheist #atheism #abuse #survival

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Absurdity is Strange

I am the prodigal son

I won’t come home

But I’m not on the run

Smoke, wind and sand

What’s done is done

You can never go home

When you hold a warm gun

Self-aggrandizement game gone wrong

It’s lost all of it’s fun

As the jail bars cast a longer shadow

Towards this prodigal one

You can’t make bricks from this loam

Ammo gone dry, this clip’s got none

No place to go

See how they run

Raise my hand at the temple

I am the prodigal son

Even with high walls around me

It couldn’t block out the sun

That stung in my eyes

I never meant to hurt anyone

Victim to a strange level of indifference

That’s not to be outdone

Deny the chaplain like Judas

I am the prodigal son

Author’s Note:   Sometimes you get an idea about a poem inspired about your life away from you family that evolves into a tribute to The Stranger by Albert Camus.

#spilled ink #the stranger #strange #camus #son #love #travel #poem #poetry #writing #writer #original poem #albert camus #literature #absurdity #lonely #sad #sad poem #daily poem

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Every time I check my phone

And there's nothing from you

My heart drops

To my horror

I think I had started to like you

Just a little bit

There we were

a green bud of potential

That dropped to the ground

like an acorn

Never getting to unfurl or root

It's nature

There's no one to blame

Perhaps anyway that potential

Was mostly a figment

Of razor sharp what might have beens

But oh how I would have liked

To see that blossom bloom

Radiant and swaying

Open petals facing the sun

Instead of a grounded thing

Waiting to go to seed

Or find itself foraged

Filling stomachs more eager

To nest and persevere

Missed opportunities

Mantras of oh well

Perhaps a tree is needed

Where wild flowers might have dwelled

#spilledink #original poetry #poet #poem #poetry #love #writing #life #writer #art #inspiration

[runicrigel]

You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know

Philander oscillating philanthrope

You worry less about villainizing others

When you’ve never been the hero

In your own stupid fucking tale

#poetry #poem #original poem #good #bad #art #writing #writer #wit

[runicrigel]

Touch Your Pain

Touch your pain

Feel the lightening in your pulse

Embrace it's necessity

You can cover it in a blister of anger

But the water and blood beneath will still build

The pain has to have somewhere to go

And no amount of containing pain

Will purge it

Your pain belongs to you with all the autonomy

Of bodily fluids that manifest from each gland

Own your pain as you own your body

Root the cause, treat it and mend

Learn to look at and care for your soul

As you do for your skin, mind and guts

Doctor your pain without self judgement

Or suffer, but your suffering too

No matter the cause

Will belong to the one who bares the contagion

Touch your pain

Or yield to being the carrier of agony

#pain #letting go #moving on #breakup #grief #divorce #poetry #healing

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III

I am the product of capitalistic breeding

Before a cruel agony grips my throat

It wretches me out of the production line

I am rattled like a doll, suspended in a fist

Bruised, fleeting, gasping - but free

For the moment

I walk down water and leaf slick streets

I don’t see my surroundings in suburbia, no

My environment is a gaseous cloud of suggestion

While I ponder over what electricity and juices

Course through and convince me 

That I must love the chaos of it all

Even if I can’t love you

Even if sometimes I don’t love myself

There is no use attaching stigma or resisting

The unrelenting madness that is

Yearning for safety in an unsafe world

Bring me to my knees if you must

I’m ready, I’ve done this before

In perpetuity

After all

The penetrating terror of adrenaline

Awakened me from an anesthetized life

Once chored with redundant normality

Doped up on illusions of security

Now groped roughly from the pool I feel sick

Thank you for that

My now feverish soul has begun to burn uncaged

With an intensity far beyond the kindling of me

I fear it might incinerate everything I have left

But no, I tell the terror smugly

We are not there yet

Not today, I say gently

Maybe tomorrow or thirty years from now

#new poets corner #new poets on tumblr #poetry #original poetry #poems #poem #life #inspiration #change #bad grief #love #art #death #freedom #healing

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How Dare You

Is that a chemical cocktail

Running down my throat

Bringing me under and to

Where did you find me?

How did you emerge from the ether?

One moment you aren’t introduced

And the next you come into being

With a show of teeth and an embrace

Then I’m choking on your fingers

My body an arched bridge between us

A structure over a sea of blankets

Bone scaffolding and flesh streets

Spine cracked like a glow stick

In the darkness something whines

The encroaching silence nudged away

We tear our clothes in grief

We tear our clothes in fits of lust

The draught burns, sweet and foul

Flowers and silk tucked into a coffin

My eyes moisten, my tongue whets

My teeth liquefy, shutter and ripple

Where the hell did you come from?

How did you find me?

Damned, accosted, back shrouded

How dare you rip this cloak away

Letting me hear my own shell crack

Before you burrow through and in

Flooding me with who you are

Making a meal out of my insides

Using my rib cage and femur

As platter and utensil

Rubbing your scent into my skin

How dare you awaken this yearning

And in doing so dig my new fate

With all of a hello

#love #lust #death #poetry #poems #writing #romance #inspiration #writer #original poem #new poets society #new poets on tumblr #new poetry

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Not There Yet

I don’t know if I can love you

Even if I want to

Even if I do

I can’t

Tapered cloth

Hedged limbs

And an us

Cuttings of leaves

Sitting in a water glass

Prismatic sunlight

But there are no roots

In that simple beauty

Fledgling growth

A womb of water

Suspended in glass

And light

I don’t know if I can grow to

Even if I want to

Even if I am

I can’t

Keep me unpotted

Leave me in the water

Attach me again

Keep me off the shelf

Appendages stretching

Put me in the earth

#poetry #original poetry #writing #love #breakup #romance #sad #liberty #freedom #freespirit #plants #plant #writer

[runicrigel]

Solidarity with MPLS Rioters

A bit about myself, I have lived in Minneapolis for over three years.  The riots are taking place in my neighborhood, as did George Floyd’s murder.

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Like many others I am on edge tonight watching the events across Minneapolis and St. Paul unfold. However, regardless of the tension I feel there is also an overwhelming sense of catharsis and pride. In many ways it's a relief to see people rising up and finally doing something. It fills me with hope. The government has proven time and time again that it doesn’t listen to people’s complaints on social media. The government entity does not hear when people wave signs, walk through streets and then go home in a day. This nation with its ever flashpan level attention span will consume itself, moving onto the next outrage in a blink of an eye, in a day, in an hour.

I can’t help but smile as I see people of color, youths of this nation, people of many backgrounds marching beside one another. They are celebrating in the streets, the streets that their tax dollars pay for. There is a playful, childlike joy in watching them dismantle buildings, remove pieces off of structures, build bonfires under traffic lights, dance, cheer and drink their spoils. There is something beautiful about watching fireworks erupt in the sky over a burning precinct that housed these murderers.

Property is replaceable, lives are not. And the only ones destroying lives are the police this group is attempting to hold accountable for blatant murder. Without due process, without fair incarceration, America is nothing less than tyrannical.

I marched on day one from the place of George Floyd’s murder to the Third Precinct. The only fear I felt was towards the officers. The feeling on the ground among these heroic voices is one of unity, sanctity and companionship. People are dowsing strangers' eyes with milk when the tear gas hits them. I’ve seen them carry those injured and convulsing away who were shot by canisters or rubber bullets. They are embracing, rapping, calling out warnings to one another.

We live in a nation that does not think we are entitled to our own lives, to our own health or the care of it. Black people are systematically oppressed and disproportionately targeted time and time again. Capitalistic entities tilt our elections and our so-called representatives in their favor. They are the greatest polluters of our world and in many ways the greatest oppressors. I do not mourn their brief financial inconvenience at the hand of those truly traumatized and in grief.

These are the American people. This is the composition of this nation. Not one percent of the population who have gorged themselves on enterprise and hoarded the wealth from their hands. Not the CEOs of them which are consistently white men.

This IS America. Outnumbered, out financed, out gunned but finally saying we will be treated as human beings or we will burn an infrastructure that has cultivated our demise to the ground. We will not go silently into that good night. We will no longer bow to bureaucracy. Until black lives matter, no lives matter. These are what modern day patriots look like.

#lakestreet #minneapolis #mpls #riots #george floyd #sayhisname #i can't breath #icantbreath #blacklivesmatter #twin cities #grief #trauma #article #writing #protest #protesers #resist #rise up #riseup #nojusticenopeace #this is america

[runicrigel]

Just Once More Forever

I miss being in love

I hold a charcoal lump in my palm

Roll it around there

My nostrils take in the essence

Of smoke and fragrance of burning

This already cooked incense

I guess you could say

That it’s gone cold

Or I guess you could say

That it’s just in its default state

What was once wood becomes coal

And charcoal becomes ash

How lovely it would be to burn

And transmutate

Once then twice and die out

Licked by flames

Consumed by heat

Glowing orange, gold and blue

From the core of a black heart

An immobile lump

To livid colors of lashing air

Born from heat

And relinquishing to earth

What came from it

When all inside is spent

#love #poem #poetry #deadinside #grief #life #inspiration #motivation #sad #longing #relationships #fire #charcoal #onemoretime