Fool Crow Seer

Find a path in this that is your own......

Start with a line from one of the top three boxes.

Then go to one of the middle three boxes and select a line.

Finish with a selection from the bottom boxes.

The path is the poem, not the words... The path is the poet, not the writer.

In this chaos...

 

What is said
is said
is said
is said
is said
and said again...
spiral of word and sentiment and thought and deed and power and control
(and the lack thereof
thereof
thereof
thereof
thereof
is not permission to be...)

the secret is in the circle, closed and safe
the secret is in the square, equal all sides
the secret is in the triangle, each side up.

the secret is in the unnamed shapes
swirl and swirl and never be defined
the secret is in the unnamed words
swirl and swirl and never be refined

Stream of consciousness

 

Ugh..... Every time I read this I hate it more. This is exactly the type of crap that makes every one else on the plnet think that poetry sucks. I will leave it here as a reminder to all that just because you wrote it, doesn't mean that it has any worth...

So I made the smallest of changes to this - I think it's a total of 5 words that were changed, and - of course - the form... The form of the poem has changed the create appropriate flow and emphasis. So here is what I have done to try to undo the insipid tripe that I had originally posted:

 

So... Is it better? Yeah - I would say that it is better. By far.

Is it good? No. I don't think that you can polish dung and call it poetry. You can't say a bad string of words with JUST a few e.e. cummings tricks, but you can pretty it up enough that it can trick the eye into thinking it sees something that isn't there.

In this case, what isn't there is heart. It's a dispassionate piece of writing, and it has no goal. It isn't going anywhere, nor can it take you anywhere. It is aimless, and lost.

Sad, really.....

How I respond to compliments...

You are very kind.

I have words for you

 

Tell me that you feel beautiful. Tell me that you feel worthy. Tell me that you feel amazing.

The voice in my head tells me so many things, and rarely is it a positive perspective - it is critical, to put it lightly... But it is a voice that I have learned a thing or two about -

That voice is a liar. That voice whispers half truths, at best. That voice wants to drag me down. That voice believes that there are no survivors in this game. That voice is despicable and vile.

So I say to that voice, and to those who also have one:

I am stronger than you.

I am not what you want me to believe.

I am who I can be.

The Seed of Madness

 

Read it the other way...

This one was inspired by the legacy of Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Mentor of Madness...

Dance Dance Dance

Are we just words?

are we just words
and a pause or two
are we just characters in a line
to be read and forgotten

are we just words
said spoken recited
like a child who takes his turn
reading aloud the words of The Bard

robotic stammering on the cold read
frigid and unfeeling

lacking cadence and time

are we just words
whispered but not felt
promises not kept
lies told to your eye

are we just words
that will echo for a moment
and slip away, swallowed
by the chasm that is time

vast and unyielding before us
so far above and below us

are we just words, after all

What I see

And I hope to use them all

An open letter to you...

There are clouds and pitfalls
there are struggles and challenges
that seem insurmountable -

In. The. Moment.

And then we overcome.
Perhaps it is a partial victory,
or a half of a loss...

But we are still there to learn and grow and progress and smile and sigh and weep and dream and plan and live.

Poetry...

M'Lady Winter

The way of things;