Tim never uses my real name,
instead, he calls me rice, dim sum, chow mein,
you know speak no English, he says,
examines the expression leaking out of my face,
so, if anger washes out of its pore
he can pedal back like a true coward
and say it was a joke.
But I’m no bird,
no feathers he can ruffle,
no walls behind me for him to drive me up,
no fit to throw,
mama and papa raised their…
i love law's peom, it's so silly but now i'm curious about the original version if you're okay with sharing it!
Totally! This was the original, I was going to add the doodles around this one too but I figured I’d manage the poem first before drawing
To me this was quite funny and dramatic as is, and edged juuuusst on the line of ‘almost can be taken seriously’ which made it even funnier for me (like oh. Oh dear he’s so close but he’s also so desperately… a dramatic teenage boy that’s heart broken over his crush LITERALLY JUST TALKING to another person that all of this just seems smarmy to himself, if that makes sense) 🤣 in any case I like the poem that I went with - I agree with my friend that perhaps this one seems a little too serious for what I was intending, but it makes me giggle anyway!
[Image ID: A digitally drawn 5 panel comic done with sketchbook pencil in a colour scheme of turquoises, oranges and pinks/reds. An old-fashioned mailbox with the flipper up and an unopened gift box inside, an image of the now open gift box overflowing with cartoon style hearts, a hand offering a pack of mint flavoured gum, a VCR surrounded by VHS tapes, and the torso of a woman holding a hand over her heart. The captions for each read: Something about a gift from a stranger...; and how they know me only as I am now... a culmination of my truest form up to this very moment; Something about how my own mother, after an entire lifetime, still never remembers that I dislike the taste of mint...; and haven't been into that movie... for over a decade.; Something about being known... for the first time again.; (and beneath the panels) Something about having never been known at all... End Image ID]
it's like. everything happens so much. it's all happening right now but at the same time nothing is happening whatsoever. it's a liminal space of an existence. it's slowly crushing me under the weight but when I look up there's nothing actually bearing down on me. there shouldn't be any weight. something is wrong but nothing has happened. I'm simultaneously overwhelmed and utterly bored. nothing is happening and maybe that's the everything that's happening. maybe the everything is the nothing. we aren't there yet but it's all so imminent. either everything is going to crash down or nothing is. I'm just waiting to figure out which.
I've been recording myself reading the same poem -- "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats -- on a weekly-ish basis ever since starting testosterone. It's been two years now, and I'm amazed by how much my voice has dropped. I really was a rough beast slouching toward Bethlehem to be born...
Key to which lines I read which week/month below the cut...
Week 1
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Week 11
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Week 22
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight:
Year 1
Somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
Year 2
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Two Slow Dancers - Mitski // 'mesh' by Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen // That’s Us - Anson Seabra // Quote by Langston Hughes // Photo by Omalix Martinez // Lidia Yuknavitch
I'm raising the populace. No, it's the inverse:
I'm razing the populous, picking till skin hurts.
I'm scalping each follicle, snatching a trophy.
De-thatching the canopy. Hardship is only
Advancing the atrophy already killing
Restraint. I would stop, but my hand is unwilling.
I'm kind of starting this account for the whim of it, so don't expect regular posts unless I specify it. I'm hoping I can post more frequently once I get the knack of things and such, but for now there might be some dust that gathers on this account. Down below are some fandoms I may post for in the future. Have a good day lovelies! <3
Hazbin hotel
Heartstopper
Helluva boss
Welcome home
Don't hug me I'm scared (DHMIS)
Bojack horseman
Sally face
(a bajillion of things I've conveniently forgotten about in the moment)
Here is some content I will most likely post.
Fanfiction
Headcannons
Drabbles
Photography
Poetry
Fanart
Original writing
That is that I suppose! If any of this seems to be your cup of tea follow or like this post to keep track. Again have a wonderful day and stay brilliant!
"free verse and not having to rhyme or keep a meter in poetry makes writing poetry more accessible for anyone to write it" we are surrounded by rhymes and meters the stupidest pop song on the top 40 is riddled with rhymes and meters anyone can do that shit anyone can fucking rhyme
you can rhyme
i can rhyme
rhyming is
a real good time
there rhyming poem done and dusted a single word over one syllable and it took me 7 seconds. it's a stupid poem but guess what it's still a poem. anyone can write fucking rhymed and metered poetry and it's insulting 2 me that people are still up free verse's ass when rhyming is so much fun and artificial restrictions that you choose for yourself can sometimes make creativity bloom so much more effectively than if you're only ever doing notes app poetry and calling it good. try doing a rhyme sometime or searching out different poetry forms. for gods sakes. can we be done with instapoetry yet are we over it can we move on can we have a new thing