May
the Fourth
be with you
a silly joke
from a fandom
i’m not completely in
but i appreciate
a good pun
with the rest of ‘em
May
the Fourth
be with you
a silly joke
from a fandom
i’m not completely in
but i appreciate
a good pun
with the rest of ‘em
i don’t know how to stop my kip
from staring at their phone
reading the terrible news
and feeling worse
and worse
and worse
as the hours go by
because
if left to my own devices
i would stare at my phone
and watch videos of
on the ground tragedies
and feel worse
and worse
and worse
as the hours go by
and neither of us feeling worse
will change the things happening
halfway across the world
or right in our own backyard
we need to fill our cups
and have the hope
and energy
to put forth change
that will help
others
and ourselves
but
how
how
how
when everything feels so important
and hopeless
in the palms of our
hands?
music is so good
so important
so emotionally charged
and i
cannot handle that
[sometimes]
can i just
pick up
where a poem left off?
~~~
and continue the poetry
will it still be magical?
will it still be me?
~~~
i mean, probably
it has to be
because it is still me
who’s writing all the words
right?
create a chaos demon in your head
and maybe the anxiety you feel
on a daily basis
will have some sort of
reason for existing
[maybe]
my mind is stuck in the dream i had
where all i can remember is the concept
and the feeling
but i have no words to describe it
except
possibility
and hope
and space exploration
[and maybe cryogenic stasis?]
but it felt a lot like apartments of today
except
it was on a space station?
[or would be
in a minute]
and we were trying
we were giving it a chance
we were hoping
we were giving the concept of hope
a chance
in our hearts
and lives
and i don’t know why
that hits so hard
in this year 2025
but it does
it does
i don’t actually know what it means
to be
a great writer
a great poet
i’m just sitting here
at my messy dinner table
early in the morning
writing whatever comes to mind
as a way to encourage myself
to deal with the day
that is coming towards me
at breakneck speed
maybe,
when you’re in your ‘fighting a [seemingly] losing war
against fascism with the best tool you have —
kindness’ era
you’ll understand
~~~
i feel like this kind of morning
and this kind of writing
is the reason i started this challenge to begin with
i feel more awake
more aware
more ready to start my day
though i still need to edit and pick and send in the audition
i feel so much more prepared for it
now
~~~
“you look like such a writer!”
of my big sweater
comfy tee
glasses
bun
and coffee in hand
and i do, don’t i?
i do…
the digital dubstep music
emanating out of our speakers
has nothing on the
analog version
made from a tuba
live in front of us
while a hella talented juggler
does crazy juggle-y things
with clubs
that we barely see
because we
are far too enthralled with that
xylophone playing
tuba-ist
making the greatest
“BWAAaaaah”
we’ve ever heard or seen
at each drop
shaking the floors
skipping our heartbeats
we don’t know how to describe that experience
except that
we now only ever want to listen to
live
tuba
dubstep
beats
not really feeling
the writing right now
but i know i should
and i gotta
and i will and i am and i have been
and i did
cleaning up the house
means
cleaning out the cobwebs in my emotions
means
cleaning for the first time
in a long time
means
organization
[which i love]
means
getting things out
to put them back again
means
maybe
maybe
maybe
getting rid of some things
[and that’s the most terrifying
concept and
consequence of all]