Aubade for the Night Shift Worker

Aubade for the Night Shift Worker

Morning has broken, and it’s time to leave thee, oh Work

The sun is shining and all I want to do is crawl into my tomb

I can’t call what we have love

But it’s sure as hell a long-term relationship

Another 20 years and I can finally call it quits

I’m gonna leave you

~Helena~

NaPoWriMo 2015: Day 5: Riffin' on Em

December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886

My teammates are going to hate me--today's a bit of a cheat! Here's the exercise from NaPoWriMo:

Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is a variation on a teaching exercise that the poet Anne Boyer uses with students studying the work of Emily Dickinson. As you may know, although Dickinson is now considered one of the most original and finest poets the United States has produced, she was not recognized in her own time. One reason her poems took a while to gain a favorable reception is their slippery, dash-filled lines. Those dashes baffled her readers so much that the 1924 edition of her complete poems replaced some with commas, and did away with others completely. Today’s exercise asks you to do something similar, but in the interests of creativity, rather than ill-conceived “correction.” Find an Emily Dickinson poem – preferably one you’ve never previously read – and take out all the dashes and line breaks. Make it just one big block of prose. Now, rebreak the lines. Add words where you want. Take out some words. Make your own poem out of it! (Not sure where to find some Dickinson poems? Here’s 59 Dickinson poems to select from).

Here's the original:

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

After great pain, a formal feeling comes –

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs –

The stiff Heart questions ‘was it He, that bore,’

And ‘Yesterday, or Centuries before’?

The Feet, mechanical, go round –

A Wooden way

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought –

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone –

This is the Hour of Lead –

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –

First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

Here is my revision:

After great pain, a formal feeling comes – (372)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

After great pain, a formal feeling comes 

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs 

The stiff Heart questions was it He that bore

And Yesterday or Centuries before? 

The Feet mechanical go round 

A Wooden way Of Ground

or Air or Ought Regardless grown

A Quartz contentment like a stone 

This is the Hour of Lead Remembered if outlived 

As Freezing persons recollect the Snow 

First Chill then Stupor then the letting go 

A fun exercise. Still, I feel as if I had a bit of a cheat, being the one to take this prompt. Jessica, for instance, had a much more challenging go of it with her amazing Blitz poem!

~Wanda~

NaPoWriMo Day 3 & 4: Brittney's Loveless Fourteener Ode to Axe Man And Other Stuff

Axe Man's unrequited lust for Brittney has yet to be fulfilled

Brittney's Loveless Fourteener Ode to Axe Man And Other Stuff

by

Brittney (duh)

With lots of interruptions from various twits

Try though he might, Axe Man will never get into my pants

Although I don't wear pants, he still will never get a chance

In the nine years I've known Axe Man, he's never stopped trying

He's sure selling it hard, but that don't mean that I'm buying

PANSI (R) being sniffed by Leon, to her absolute horror

Aubvey (L)

Kung Fu Leopard (C)

PANSI says that Axe Man is just a big old blast feemer

I guess that it's true, plus he's a planner and a schemer

His plans always fall through though, because he's lacking in brains

Axe thinking is like going bowling without any lanes

Emrald doing a mystical dance with the assistance of Wheelz the Spider

Emrald says we ought to be writing about Malcolm Young

Our half-assed publicist, Cie Cheesemeister, preparing to combat some sort of spectral nuisance with a salt-filled pistol and a watermelon

She says that The Cheesemeister wants his praises to be sung

Admissibly, Malcolm is a damn great guitarist

Also in his favor: he doesn't make an ass of himself chasing after me like an idiot the way Axe Man does

The wings look cool, but The Cheesemeister looks like a fool the way she fawns over them...and the rest of him

As If I don't hear Cheesy praising Malcolm every night

They're the dorkiest couple, and that's being polite

Aubvey, with Spookley Punkin

Aubvey says I'm being rude, but I'm just telling the truth

Dr. Doo Doo and Doo Doo Girl, the Netherworld's resident Farmacists

Oh look, there goes Doo Doo Girl, flying higher than the roof

~Brittney~

Cross-Posted to:

Dark Hearts Love Too

Rattling Bones Undead Musician Magazine

NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 2: Bright as Touched

Supernova Version 5

Photoshop manipulation by The Real Cie

Bright as Touched

Shining star

Star light star bright

Bright eyes

Bright mind

Mind like a trap

Mind like a razor

Razor's edge

Razor cuts

Cut scene

Cut away

Away from it all

Away from home

Home away from home

Home is where the hurt is

Is anybody out there

Is anything real

Real as it gets

Real as it feels

Feels like loneliness

Feels like a dream

Dream of your goals

Dream becomes nightmare

Nightmare when sleeping

Nightmare when waking

Waking at dawn

Waking to confusion

Confusion sets in

Confusion distorts

Distorts your truths

Distorts your life

Life becomes lie

Life becomes loss

Loss of your mind

Loss of your self 

Self loathing

Self lost

Lost little boy

Lost soul

Soul of time past

Soul of the music 

Music brings healing

Music is forever

Forever remembered

Forever loved

Loved very deeply

Loved by those whose lives you touched 

Touched with an angel's wing

Touched with light from the farthest star 

Star 

Wing

Love,

Jess

This is a blitz poem.

It was harder than I thought it would be to write!

Definition 

A form of poetry created by poet Robert Keim in 2008. It is a 50-line poem of short phrases and images. 

The "Blitz" poem is well-named, as the fifty short lines are read in rapid-fire fashion. 

“The form really relies on sound and rapid "flow." ~Rob Keim. 

Here are the rules: Line 1 should be one short phrase or image (like “build a boat”) 

Line 2 should be another short phrase or image using the same first word as the first word in Line 1 (something like “build a house”) 

Lines 3 and 4 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 2 as their first words (so Line 3 might be “house for sale” and Line 4 might be “house for rent”) 

Lines 5 and 6 should be short phrases or images using the last word of Line 4 as their first words, and so on until you’ve made it through 48 lines 

Line 49 should be the last word of Line 48 

Line 50 should be the last word of Line 47 

The title of the poem should be three words long and follow this format: (first word of Line 3) (preposition or conjunction) (first word of line 47) 

There should be no punctuation, except for an ellipse after the final two words in lines 49 & 50.

Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/types_of_poems/b

Not Your Stereotype

I don't have penis envy

I'm not into girls because I can't find a guy

I don't need or want a man to fuck me straight

I am not an abomination

It won't turn your daughter gay to be my friend

I don't kiss women to turn guys on

I'm not hot for every woman I see

I'm not leering at you in the locker room

I don't have sex with every woman who asks

I don't hate men

I have male friends, cousins, a father whom I love

I don't like men who objectify me because I like women

I'm a person, just like you

I'm a sister, a daughter, an aunt

I'm me, Thalia

I like music, and I like to write

I like to bake, and I like to hang out with my niece and nephew

I like watching movies and being a friend

I'd like to find a lady who's kind of easygoing

A friend who turns into a lover

Someone I can talk with late into the night

I'm looking for the same thing as many of you

I'm looking for someone to share my life with

Someone I can take care of, and who will take care of me

I'm kind of a romantic, waiting for my princess to sweep me off my feet

Will she be a cowgirl or a businesswoman or more the artistic type

I just hope she doesn't wait too long to find me

I hope that those of you who took the time to read this can see

I'm not a stereotype

There to be objectified or demonized

I'm a lesbian

But I'm a person first

My name is Thalia

Don't stereotype me

~Thalia~

Unofficial NaPoWriMo 2015

We are unofficially participating in NaPoWriMo this year. Our fearless leader, The Real Cie, doesn't feel quite up to the kind of participation levels with going official, and that's okay.

Our poems will be dedicated to the man whose picture you see above. I've got no shame in my game when it comes to declaring that I think he is someone who is deserving of being remembered. Shame on anyone who has made Cie feel embarrassed about expressing her feelings of love/devotion for him. This world is full of people who aren't happy until they've pissed on someone's heart. That's a true shame.

Cie made the manip featured above. I say it's beautiful and true, just like the subject of the work! Simply fabulous!

Here's a kickoff poem using a variation on the NaPoWriMo Extra Prompt.

I guess it's too late for me to meet you in this life

To shake your hand

To give you a hug

And a big thanks

For the gifts you gave to me

And to the world

But when I get to the other side

Know that you've got a friend who will have your back

If you want her to

Because I think you're always simply fresh

And forever all kinds of cool

Perhaps not the best poem ever written, but I mean it with all my heart. He was more than just a guitar player. He was a very special person. He deserves to be remembered.

Love,

Thalia

You Mean Well But

 

The lack of any ability

To understand what I'm feeling

The desire to erase

What you perceive to be a fault in my thinking

The fact that everyone wants to cure people like me

Rather than try to see the world through our eyes

Leads me to realize

That I can never belong

Not even in a world of bleeding hearts and artists

 

I am not one of you

I am a monster

Nobody wants to understand monsters

Even when we don't rage

The world wants to put us in a cage

 

You want to anoint me with your oils to make me one of you

You think your powders and potions will morph my eternal soul

You think a pill will make me socially acceptable

You hate what I am

Even when you try to pretty your feelings about me up

With words like "sympathy"

Which equates to pity

With well-meaning epithets like "I just want you to get better"

Which means

"I just want you to fit in."

 

I'm used to being the only one

The first and last of my kind

I'm used to walking alone

I can't stop feeling what I feel

Just because you think it's time for me to stop feeling it

You can try to kill my personality

With shocks to my brain

Which are supposed to end my pain

But which in reality

Are meant to destroy me

 

But you can't kill my soul

I will come back

Stronger than you know

 

Somewhere beyond the rainbow

There is a place for us

Those who felt too much

Who knew too much

Who never fit in anywhere

Even among the bleeding hearts and artists

Tomorrow belongs to the monsters

 

I am a monster

And one day I will fly over the rainbow

And be welcome at last

 

~Cie~