Rambling: “Babe”

Rambling: “Babe”

I was walking downtown to work and happened to meet up with a male coworker at the corner across from my work. While waiting for the light to turn, a man who looked to be a member of the city’s homeless population shouted “Nice hair, babe” at me. I turned with a smile, thanked him, and returned to waiting with my coworker. Coworker was just looking over his shoulder at the man, an expression bordering on disgust, or perhaps confusion, on his face. Maybe he thought I knew the guy, but I don’t.

I told him that I often get compliments on my hair, and he joked that he never does (he is bald). Then I mentioned that the “babe” part was a little much, and he agreed that it really made it “ick”.

Thing is, despite the uneasy feeling I got from the compliment, it wasn’t something I had any intention of addressing, especially not with the one who shouted it at me. That borders on dangerous, and I never want to cause someone to explode at me. We talked a little further with another male coworker in the elevator. To the first coworkers bafflement at such comments, we both said welcome to being a woman and I mentioned that I am grateful to live where we do, because what I experience is nothing compared to what some women have to put up with.

Combine this experience with continually seeing those mysoginistic tweets on Twitter about how to be a good woman, or wife, ones that rail against women expressing themselves through their appearance, and frankly I’m done. I’m sick of it.

We live in a modern world. We live in the future. So why are there men out there still looking at women as only being objects? As only being there for man’s pleasure and to have babies? So long as, of course, those women don’t end up becoming single mothers for any reason.

Ridiculous, right? I sure think so.

I’m lucky to live in the city I live in. The comments I get are fairly harmless compared to what women face in other cities and other countries. But that doesn’t mean I don’t actually face it. I just get off easy, and I know it.

And sure, there might be those who will say that I would not have minded such a comment if it came from an attractive person. They would be wrong. I still don’t appreciate it. It doesn’t feel quite so bad, but honestly? The only person I want calling me “babe” or to have throw a sexually charged compliment my way is my husband. Everyone else can stick to the benign compliments.

It isn’t that I don’t appreciate compliments. I do. But you can tell me my hair looks good without adding babe, or sweetheart. You can tell me I have a nice dress without staring at my breasts. You can walk past me without fully turning your head to watch my ass move. I know when they do it, I can feel their eyes.

I wish that this sort of behavior would stop. Like I said, I know I get off easy here. I shudder to think of what other women have to put up with simply for existing.

We need to do better. And it is unfortunate that the ones who need to do better are the ones that likely never will.

Storytime: A Web of Eyes

Storytime: A Web of Eyes

My breath was already ragged as I tore my way through the underbrush, collecting scrapes and cuts from the branches that I pushed past. No time to stop, just keep running I told myself silently, not wasting the breath to say it aloud. I was not going to give up, they would never catch me if I had anything to say about it.

I burst through a thick bush and had to windmill my arms to stop from falling off the cliff that opened up before my feet. Glancing over my shoulder, I could hear my pursuers crashing through the trees, gaining ground each second I delayed. I looked down the cliff at the river that raged below. I had no idea how deep it was, nor what dangers might lurk in its depth or down its length.

The sound of the pursuers became ever closer.

Taking two steps back, my shins up against the underbrush, I took a deep breath and ran, not letting myself have the luxury of delay or second thoughts. They could not catch me, it was all over if they did.

The jump was high enough that I managed to get all my limbs in order and dove into the water with what was truly a spectacular swan dive. Were I not so desperate, I may have stopped to congratulate myself on my perfect form. Instead, I broke the surface, sucked in a desperate breath and began to swim with the current, rushing along faster than I could ever manage unaided. Risking a glance upwards, I saw two figures huddled on the cliff I had leapt from, pointing down towards me.

I was free for the moment, but did not believe that I had truly escaped them. They were determined, single-minded, and it would take more than a rushing river to win my freedom.

Before that, however, I had to conquer this river.

Despite my best efforts to keep my head above the water, the rushing waters continually pulled me under and tumbled me around. Without the current, I wouldn’t have been able to tell which way to go, I ended up so turned around.

My arms began to weaken, my head dipping below the surface more often than not. As I inhaled another breath more filled with water than air, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it was going to end. Drowned in the river, my body being borne out to a lake or sea somewhere, lost.

Very well, I thought, closing my eyes and feeling a strange contentment fall over me. I felt myself drift downwards and didn’t try to stop, didn’t strive for the surface, not this time. My head began to spin from lack of oxygen and I would have swam for the surface, then, had I known which way to swim. Instead, I let go to the inevitable and ended up with the strangest sensation. Instead of continuing to sink, there was suddenly pressure at my back, pushing me towards what I could only presume was the surface and life-giving air.

I broke the surface, filling my lungs and feeling sensation and consciousness rush back, my plight springing back into sharp focus. What had happened? Groggy still, it took me a moment to realize I was moving faster than the current, and there was still the mysterious pressure on my back. Turning slightly, not an easy task, I discovered that I was sprawled across the back of a dolphin.

Feeling my movement, the dolphin unceremoniously dumped me back into the river proper and swam circles around me for a moment before nudging me again to keep my head above the surface.

“Never thought I’d be saved by a dolphin…” I muttered, swinging my arm over the dolphins proffered back and allowing it to carry me down the river again, feeling a little more in control. “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure if the dolphin could hear me above the roaring river, or even understand me if it could, but I still felt compelled to express my gratitude.

Riding the dolphin, I traveled much faster than I could have ever hoped and I allowed myself the brief dream that perhaps, just perhaps, I had outrun my pursuers enough that they would not find me again.

Eventually, the cliff surrounding the river diminished and I discovered that the river emptied into a lake, and that the dolphin was not fond of the still waters within. Leaving me on the shore where the river spilled into the ocean, the dolphin swam back over the fast-moving waters, seemingly untroubled by the effort it had to put in to make progress. I stood there on the bank until I could no longer see my dolphin friend, and raised my hand in a final, unseen farewell before turning to trudge along the shoreline.

First order of business, I thought, I need to figure out where I am. And get to where there are people, where I might be a bit safer.

It felt like an eternity, walking along the lake, though it was more like part of the afternoon, or maybe morning? I wasn’t quite certain what time of day it was and I couldn’t see the sun, hidden as it was behind clouds, to find out, though my rumbling stomach insisted that it was time to eat. I gathered a few berries along the shore, but did not dare stop for longer to try my hand at fishing. Those that hunted me had proven resourceful and fast in the past, I had no reason to believe it would be any different this time. No, I had to keep moving, get as much distance between myself and them as I possibly could. It was the only hope I had. Well, that and the rumours I had heard earlier in my journey of a place of safety, where they would not, could not, go. “South” they had said, but none could give better directions than that, and so my journey had taken me roughly southward. Was I too far west? East? Where did I go from here?

The wind brought shouts to my sensitive ears and I cursed. Was it them again, already? Or just another set? They were all so interchangeable, I couldn’t be sure; dark leather, masked faces, a tattoo of a spider’s web with an eight-legged eye in the centre on all their forearms.

Either way, I couldn’t linger any longer on the bank of the lake.

Choosing a direction almost at random – southerly, and away from the shouts – I dove into the forest and made my way along as quickly as I dared to move, stripping bushes of their berries on my way. The forest slowly darkened around me and the cloud-shrouded sun dipped below the horizon. Soon, I was unable to see the forest floor in front of me and began to trip on every upraised root, catching my clothing on nearly every grasping bush I passed. I could no longer go on, and so with the last of the light I found myself a little hollow in a lightening-struck tree, just big enough to wriggle into. Once I pulled a large, leafy branch from a bush and set it across the cracked trunk, it felt like a cozy, safe little nest. Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly, lulled by the sounds of night around me.

I woke early, anxious to be going and cramped from my tiny hideaway. With more than one groan, I pushed my way out of the tree and stood, stretching out my aching muscles and looking around to remind myself what way I had been going the night before. Thankfully, I could vaguely make out my path from the night before, crushed leaves and snags of fabric. I hoped I hadn’t left so obvious a trail throughout, but there was nothing to be done about it now. I couldn’t take the time to backtrack and obscure my trail.

As I walked through the forest, careful now to leave as minimal a trail as possible, the world around me slowly brightened and I thought I could hear the sound of cheerful voices ahead of me, muffled by the trees. I didn’t feel the now familiar anxiety at the sounds of these voices, leaving me to hope that I had finally found what I was looking for – a sanctuary.

Changing direction slightly, I headed toward the voices and possible sanctuary.

The sight that awaited me through the trees was entirely unanticipated.

A mall. I had heard about them, these relics of a time now gone. I thought they were all long since abandoned, but before me was a bustling shopping centre filled with people for whom the world had not ended.

Did they know what was out there and just didn’t care, or were they so engrossed in their curious routine that they were oblivious to reality? Honestly, it didn’t matter. There may be safety in their numbers, I reasoned, so I joined them.

I entered the mall cautiously, unsure what to expect from this structure that hasn’t yet realized it was obsolete. I did not expect buzzing, bright lights, nor the tidy little rooms filled with all manner of items that I could not begin to understand. There was an entire room dedicated to paper bound together in what I could only assume must be books, based on the brightly lit sign that read “Carlson’s Books”. Who Carlson was and why they was displaying their books in that little room, I did not know.

What is this place? I asked myself as I turned slowly to take in all the strange sights. The mall was packed with people, all of them intent in their business, caring various bags as they rushed from room to room. Unable to contain my curiosity, I grabbed the arm of one woman as she passed.

Ignoring the glare I received, I asked “What is this place? Why are all of you here? Don’t you know what it is like outside?”

She didn’t answer, pulled her arm away with another glare before bustling off into the crowd.

Feeling out of place, I made my way to one of the glass contraptions that appeared to be taking people up to other floors of this crazy building, thinking that perhaps a different perspective would help me understand this place so of out time with the rest of the world. The doors slid shut behind me and I turned to watch our assent. My eyes fell on three figures pushing their way roughly through the crowd, looking just as out of place as I did amongst these people living in the past and my heart sank.

This would not be my sanctuary.

I tried to shrink back into the small crowd in the glass cage with me but I stuck out like a sore thumb. One of my pursuers pointed at the contraption I rode and they redoubled their efforts to push through the oblivious crowd. One reached to a quiver on his back, pulling out an arrow that sported a small pouch tied to its tip.

An explosive arrow. Looking around frantically I realized I was trapped with no way out. That didn’t stop me, however. Scrambling through the others in the tiny space, I used the metal bar that ran along the inside of my glass cage to climb up and try to push one of the panels in the ceiling free. I had just managed to shove aside the panel when the contraption was rocked with an explosion, swinging wildly as one of the thick cables snapped. I pulled myself out hastily and leapt free without looking.

My grasping hands found purchase on a beam and I swung up, straddling my savior as I took brief stock of my situation. The class cage had crashed to the ground below, sending broken shards into the crowd. I could see more than one body lying prone, bleeding. Not my problem, I reminded myself, turning my attention higher up to search for an escape route. Just above me, I could see a series of beams and cables that I was fairly certain I could use to get away from my pursuers. At least temporarily.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself up so I stood on the beam and tried to walk its length carefully until I reached one of the cross beams. Wobbling slightly, I climbed up to the new beam and sat astride it as I plotted my next move. I had no desire to be captured or to become a smear on the highly polished floor, so I knew I had to plan each step carefully.

It was time to be an acrobat.

With another deep breath to try and calm my nerves, I leapt from my beam, arms outstretched as I flew through the air, intent on a cable a couple of feet from me. For a moment, I thought I was going to miss, that my story would end here, but instead my fingers closed around the cold metal and I swung far with the momentum of my jump. I was slightly disappointed that nobody except my pursuers saw my death defying leap. My pursuers were too biased and simply could not appreciate my display of skill and athletic prowess.

No matter. I wasn’t here to impress them.

Hand over hand, I pulled myself along the cable, my legs swinging freely, until I reached another of the beams to pull myself up on. Looking back, I could see that my pursuers were struggling to push their way through a crowd that refused to be parted, engrossed as they were in the aftermath of that falling contraption. I had somehow gain gained a little ground, but I needed to actually get down on the ground. I couldn’t stay up in the rafters forever.

Ahead of me, the beams disappears into a dark corner, and I thought I could make out an abbreviated storage space. That would have a way back down, I reasoned, continuing along the beam toward that corner. Thankfully, I didn’t need to perform any further impressive feats to reach my way down, the beam was wide, sturdy, and reached all the way into the corner.

Once I reached the end, it was a simple matter to pull myself up on the storage platform, though I had to pause once did so to allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in this hidden little corner. Once I could actually see, I quickly spotted a set of sturdy stairs that seemed to lead back to the ground floor and made my way to them.

Once I was down the stairs, I was easily able to push my way out of the mall, as most of the crowd was still gathered around the fallen contraption. I risked a glance over my shoulder before I pushed open the big double doors to leave and saw that my pursuers were through the worst of the crowd and picking up speed. Without wasting another moment, I dated out of the building and ran as fast as I could down the empty, rubble strewn street. At the front of the mall, the area was pristine, kept in good repair by those strange people who still frequented the mall. Here, out the back, it was the world I was used to: the relics of the old world being slowly engulfed by the rampant plant life that marked the new world.

I was glad to escape the mall that time had not touched. The energy in there had felt wrong.

But here I was truly in my element. I had grown up on overgrown streets like those I now raced along, and I knew I could easily evade my pursuers in this concrete jungle. I kept my eyes open, scanning the buildings and alleys to either side until I spotted what I was looking for. I changed direction slightly, ran up the broken remains of a car and leapt from its roof to grab onto a window ledge. Pulling myself up through the open portal, I tumbled into the building proper and say for a moment, my back against the wall as I tried to catch my breath. Once my moment of rest was up, I took a long swallow from my canteen and crawled away from the window, careful not to allow myself to be exposed. I didn’t think I had been seen, and I wasn’t about to risk it through carelessness.

I made my way slowly through the old building, testing the floor before I put my weight fully on it. It wouldn’t do to escape them just to bring everyone running as I crashed through the floor. I found another exit, one that led into an overgrown alley. I could barely see the sky with all the plant growth around me. Good, I thought, they won’t be able to get up high and find me, now.

I pushed through the plants, seeing to make my way out of the alert when a bright color on the brick wall, almost competition obscured by clinging vines, caught my eye. Unable to contain my curiosity, I pushed aside the vines to reveal words written in bold, bright orange paint. It was a small poem, written years ago, but my breath caught as I read its words. It was about me.

Fear not, young runner
The web of eyes does not stretch forever
Seek out the warmth, like birds of old
Sanctuary awaits, if you can be bold
The sound of the ocean in your ears
Will let you know you can shed your fears

My mouth dropped. I was stunned. This writing, bright though it was, had clearly been written long before I was chased. Possibly before I had even been born. The sanctuary was south, of that I was now certain. And the sound of the ocean? The only way I could reach the ocean from here was by going west. My path was now clear. I would head west until I reached the ocean, them I would follow the shoreline until I found this sanctuary where the eyes of the web could not reach.

I was going to be OK.

Ramblings: New Year

Ramblings: New Year

Well, here we all are. Somehow in 2020. Some of us despite all odds, some of us with our heads held high. All that matters is you made it, however you got here.

Good for you!

This year is going to bring a lot of change for me. Well, the change has already started, but it will be the culmination of change. It’s frightening, change always is to me and many others, but it will be good. It is going to mean that my life will stop being a matter of living paycheck to paycheck, of falling deeper into debt. No, I am now digging out of that hole and don’t plan on ending up in it ever again. Granted, life may have other plans, but so do I!

Last year brought a lot of change, as well. I finally published my book, as well as a short story! I’ve heard a lot of good things about my book, from people that I trust not to sugarcoat their words for my feelings. It feels good to know that I have brought joy, and continue to bring joy, to people through my words. It is a dream, after all.

I am continuing to work on book two of Wings of Shattered Shards, though it still remains without a title. One will come to me, I am certain. I’m hoping to come up with another title that sports alliteration, as that just makes me happy. We will have to see, however, as I don’t plan on forcing the title just to satisfy my silliness.

I’ve also been thinking on my Seventh Majir short stories and where I want to take them. I think they may end up a bit more involved than I had initially intended to have them be, with each story being able to stand alone but the whole taking the Majir towards his destiny, one incident at a time. I had already inadvertently set it up that this could happen, so I guess I was already subconsciously crafting this. The big question is does Majir get one more short before he learns he has a destiny, or do we jump right in? I’m tempted to say one more short before he learns of his destiny. After all, what is the fun of just jumping straight into the meat, gotta enjoy the side dishes too.

Among other smaller things, there is another large change looming before me right now. A new job, more pay. Just have to wait a little bit more before I hear back from the security check, which I am confident will come back clean, and then it is notice time!

Exciting. Terrifying.

But what part of life isn’t, if it is worthwhile?

Poetry: Adamantine Finger

Poetry: Adamantine Finger

An oldie, the companion to Crystal Eye. Had to make a few small changes in this one, but I think I’m satisfied.

Testing one.
Testing two.
Testing three.
All systems online.
All applications loaded.

My head turns mechanically
To stare at my creator,
Tracing my aluminum shell
With an adamantine finger.
Finding each tiny flaw
And marking it with a red ‘X’.
My frozen expression tries to wince
But it cannot move

Two small taps on my hard chest.
I can feel a ticking inside my breast.
  Tick
     Tock
   Tick
My internal clock
Ticking the seconds away
Until my expiry date.
When I will no longer be the best
Replaced by a newer self

A tap on each beady eye,
And I can see an array of colors.
Blue, red, green, purple, and beyond
Two more taps, one for each ear,
And I can hear an eternal laughing,
Because all I am is gray.
Never to enjoy the rainbow,
That for a moment brought joy
But now holds only pain.

Tap, tap.
Each arm can move now.
Firmly in one hand,
I can now see a knife.
Faulty programming asserts itself,
I bring it across my opposing limb
And draw forth motor oil.

Staring in shock at my fluids leaking,
I fail to notice two more taps.
It is with surprise, then,
That I notice my legs will walk.
I take two steps forward,
My creator takes two steps back.

I stare in sorrow,
Wondering why.
Trying to understand
Why he will tap me with his finger
But not touch me any other way.
My eyes leak my washer fluid,
As I try vainly to touch
What does not wish to be touched.

He fades away into the darkness,
Fading even from my mind.
Until all I am is a silly machine,
Leaking oil and washer fluid,
Clinging to vague memories
Of a time of love,
A time that never was.

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
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Poetry – Anxiety

Poetry – Anxiety

It starts slow
It starts quiet
The heart beats
With quickened steps

Breath shortens
Gasping

Then it starts
The trembling
The shaking
Fingers forgetting
How to grasp

Bubbling up
From deep within
Are all the thoughts
That keep you down
Reminding you
Of all your faults
Never remembering
All your strength

 

Ramblings: Seventh Majir

Ramblings: Seventh Majir

So I’ve gone ahead and done it. Finalized my short story and have put it up on Amazon. It is currently on a FREE sale, so make sure you pick up a copy before it ends. I will be running the free sales every time I am able to, but it will not be constant.

If you’ve been hoping to read something a little more polished from me, but aren’t quite ready to commit to my more expensive novel, this is the perfect opportunity!

There are seven Majir’s in Aegnap, powerful men and women who have the ability to wield great magic. Six of the Majir’s reside in the capital cities of the six kingdoms, while the Seventh Majir travels the lands, assisting all those in need.

In the first instalment, the Seventh Majir must return to a home he left over 40 years ago. A home he has never truly let go of.

Currently available only as a Kindle E-Book, my intention is to continue to release short stories featuring the Seventh Majir and, upon having seven stories, will release a paperback compilation. Seven Stories of the Seventh Majir.

It pleases me.

Check it out here if you are in the Canadian region, or here for the US region, or here for the UK region.

Don’t miss out!

Homecoming Cover.jpg

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
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Poetry: Crystal Eye

Poetry: Crystal Eye

An old poem of mine, one of two written about slightly depressive robots. The other is far more… depressing than this one. I may tweak the other one to share, but haven’t decided yet. For now, please enjoy the first moments in a robots life, in Crystal Eye

Preliminary scans complete.
Bringing systems online.
Diverting power.
Operational in 3, 2-
Brrrriiiiing
   “Hello?
   …Yes, this is he.
   …No, not yet.
   …Perhaps, but I-”

I opened my eyes to light,
Brilliant and painful all at once.
I hadn’t any way of knowing then
That my existence would revolve
Around these contradicting feelings.

I cast my complaining eyes about
To find a man with a crystal eye.
He put down an object, a phone,
And walked to where I stood.
He looked me in the eye,
And there was a warming in my metal breast.

I was circled then,
Feeling so much like an encircled deer,
Terrified as I stared into the headlights
Of his single crystal eye.

I was moved to speak then,
To express my discomfort of the examination,
But found my voice to be a disappointment.
Where I had envisioned the sound of nightingales singing,
I heard only a hollow tin noise spew forth.
My pitiful efforts did not go unnoticed,
For the man, my maker, laughed cruelly.

My hurt I could not show,
For my eyes seemed colder, more immovable,
Than his hard, sharp crystal eye.
I wanted to cry in pain,
Make that all-seeing eye
See not the steel on my polished surface,
But the pained gears underneath.

Alas, my efforts were as fruitless then as now,
And ever will I be a mechanical slave to him,
Unable to speak,
For shame of an ugly voice.
Unable to express,
For lack of a soul-seeing eye.

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
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Ramblings: NaNoWriMo

Ramblings: NaNoWriMo

If you are a writer, or involved at all in the writing world, you have probably heard of NaNoWriMo, otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. Essentially, for November of each year, writers are challenged to type up 50,000 words in 30 days. This averages to about 1,667 words per day, which can be quite the challenge.

This is the first year that I’ve decided to participate. I was never in the “right spot” to be able to before, but this time I’m well on my way into the first draft of Wings of Shattered Shards book 2 and I decided that a great NaNoWriMo project was to get that first 50K typed up. It won’t be the entire book, seeing as book one actually clocked in at just shy of 108K words, but this is a great start.

It really isn’t easy, even with the book already handwritten. It doesn’t take me too long to get the appropriate amount of words typed up, maybe about half an hour, which I’m grateful for. I can’t imagine trying to do this from scratch, with just an outline, if that!

Anyway, because I’ve been working on this my blog has become a little bit neglected. I did put up a couple of old poems which were surprisingly well received (Really, I was surprised! They are so old, I was so young), but I don’t want to start copping out and just posting old work. That didn’t seem fair to anyone following my blog, as they deserve something original from time to time, at the very least! Even if that something original turns out to just be me rambling away. You’re welcome.

Actually, in other news, I had the opportunity to meet my older brother’s girlfriend. She is, to my memory, the first one that has been introduced to the family. I don’t know if he’s had others before, but he’s been with her for a little bit and they’ve been friends for longer. Apparently they have even been talking gently about moving in together! Crazy! I’m very happy that he’s found someone he can be happy with, and who accepts him for who he is, all his craziness included.

It is funny though – he made a comment to my husband that it was great having a girlfriend, but for some reason it didn’t solve all his problems! That gave me a good chuckle, because it is so true. No matter how much you appreciate your SO, no matter how much they give to you and you to them, it will not solve everything. It will give you someone to cry with, to be held by or to hold, but it will not cause the world to suddenly turn on its end and be good to you.

You have to reach out and grab the good, and having an SO just makes the grasping that much more satisfying.

I wouldn’t trade my husband for anything in the world, but he can’t solve everything for me.

Anyway, I don’t have much more to ramble on about today. I hope every one has a great day and, if you are like me dealing with the first real snow fall of the season, stay safe and stay warm!

Ta
Arcia

 

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
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Poetry: Gloss

Poetry: Gloss

Another 15 year old poem.  What can I say, I decided to browse the old poetry account and am kind of digging the stuff I’ve found. I’m not certain what my thoughts were when I wrote this, but reading it now I see a duality of human nature, and how we try to disguise the ugliness within ourselves

 

Gloss over your enameled voice
With lacquered paints
And glittering pens
Until we see no more

Tell your lies
All sickly sweet

Polish and shine
To a bright perfection
The other side
That demon within

Tell your lies
All sickly sweet

If you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
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Poetry – Jester Poor

Poetry – Jester Poor

Written on or around April 20, 2004, an old poem of mine. May end up posting a few of these as I go through my old AllPoetry account.

In a land far far away
A secret prince his lover courts
Glimmering dances, shining balls
Silent touches lost in noise

In this land so very near
That secret prince with lover close
Be no more than jester poor
Raucous joke, silent glare

Breaking glass by clumsy touch
Anymore, no stately prince
His hands out helpless wide
And arms bleeding careless free

This jester poor be lost again
Mirror mazes, one too many
Hedges tame now grow amuck
While truthful cards scatter wide

Ten by one, one by ten
Lover never, shunned is he
A silly hat drooping sad
In this land so very near

f you enjoy my writing, the best way to support me is to purchase a copy of my debut novel, Fledglings First Flight. You can pick up a copy via the links below. It is also available free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Please let me know what you think!
FFF Book Cover Second Design