Encore

napowrimo day 30

 

The beat of the drums slows and the dancer follows to the end, pretending

That it can fade in real life, and slows the limbs that moved passionately.

Singers end the chant with great discipline, and the crowd begins to cheer.

What now, for the show is over, the traveling entertainers shall move on

Talents on display to be bought for a moment, or for a day

And the awe will leave you stunned, and you’ll forget your worries

For a moment, for a day.

And will you can wish for all your heart to relive it again and again

No stop,

It’s not to be, cannot be, but the pining will bring you back.

Seam ripper

napowrimo day 29

The stitches are even and fine, no pull on the fabric

Yet if someone looked at your face they’d try to snatch the gown away from you.

“Jealousy, talent wasted on them,” they’d whisper, as if they know anything

You had very little time, and the gown must be done by noon tomorrow

And if you truly had a choice, you’d push the commission to someone immediately

“It must be you, only you!” He pleaded, betrothed to the side, and how

Could you rushed work be jealously when both pleaded before you, trying to offer

The riches in the world, for a dress made by your hands.

You knew them both, and they knew your skills

The threads itself aren’t magic, but once you thread the needle and work it

An indestructible dress, a divine protection upon the fabrics.

“Only you, only you.” Your friend pleaded.

 

At this rate, the dress won’t be an elaborate design you are known to do

Simple but pretty, yes, but there shall be no embroidery, no jewels

And they shall take what they get, you suppose,

No time at all to do it properly, but they’ll get what they pushed for

After all, if they are displeased, well, they can find someone else.

And you’ll sell the magical dress to someone else.

 

“FORMATTED, For maximum performance.”

napowrimo day 28

I get ready to type and sit, I am stretching fingers that

Are overpraise, underestimated, flaunted for pride’s sake

And yet the screen is empty with no lines of anything written.

Mind runs, faster than the switch of a light and yet

I can’t command the part of me to move and create money

And so nervous habits of assumed confidence are used

But I got nothing to show, just a bad habit of clicking

Empty icons that lead to nowhere, at least it makes me look

Like the issue ain’t me, but the device I use

But that can’t run forever

And drastic measures will be pushed upon me.

Black Clouds

napowrimo day 27

You refuse to cry

But continue to scream and cry, and eventually

The sound of your rage is ignored by all

For we know how it will end, and yet you keep going

Remembering, remembering from the moment of your conception

To the end of your life-

Every slight done to you,

Any moment of helplessness twisted to show

How no one helped you.

 

And no one eyes you with pity, nor disgust

They gotta move on with their lives

Because the rain will fall, no matter what.

But I have to watch, to you I am the boy who watches wolves

And I’ll do what I must, for

Such rains could drown us all.

And I’m not here to save my own skin-

I will physically disperse those black clouds

If I must.

“soldier, the war is over”

napowrimo day 26

Cull the sound of the blade piercing wood

For war is done, and swords must be destroyed

The one in your hand is firm and strong, and

Has drank the blood of no man.

But war is done, and you must break it

And melt it down into something usable.

And you smile, sadly, for the sword

Was something you’ve had made for you.

But the battle is over, and your hand must learn

To wield domestic things, life should be peaceful

Now.

 

But you will never forget the war, your hand always

Twitches whether you hold a hammer or pan.

And when the war breaks down your front door

And threatens your child with a dagger to their throat,

Well, you personally melted your sword into the set of

Dining knives that now have ended the life

Of your first enemy.

The Song of Madness

napowrimo day 25

Verse I.

Here are the echoes of the past that come to drive you mad

With love, and want, turn you into the follower of Ishtar

You devote your life to seeking pleasures

Of the mind, and torture, never to regain control

Over the twitching of your hands.

Breathe in, once, and remember that your sword hand

Never rests, nor will be dry ever again.

Lake of Opacity

napowrimo day 24

“The Great Reptile” is said to have emerged from those waters.

“Cold waters in which life dies,” and that cannot be true

For I have pulled out the very monster out of there

With my bare hands,

And I live.

 

(But hands shake when I remember the moment.

And that day is a blur for me.

The image captured of me, standing tall and straight-back

Does not seem like me.)

 

And I look at the cold, hard skin, diamond-like pattern

And it sings to me, “Sleep. And remember your dreams.

For that’s all you’ll have left of yourself.”

Destiny

napowrimo day 23

Step to the side, curve the spine to

Dodge my blade

At you neck, you are dead to the world

And no ritual will bring you back.

 

Your hand brushes my cheek, nails

Have blood under them, you spread them

Over innocent skin, but it’s too late

The poison is in your system.

 

You never seem to learn that you cannot

Have me and desire me, it is only one

Or the other, destiny is not kind to you

For I will always live without you.

 

And if I mourn you, it will only last a day

I seem to forget you so quickly.

Fates

napowrimo day 22

 

If life were to be easily split into two choices,

Like heads or tails,

It would be simple, in theory.

But we get into the mindset of

“Make your own path!”

And that brings us to a third choice

But to callously dismiss our fate like that

Is to forgot our nurtured nature

Morals will destroy your paths

And no logic or civility can repair it.

Just let the fourth choice kidnap you,

Coerce you,

Into your future.

Remember

Napowrimo day 21

 

Remember, for a day you will be young again.

Your skin will smooth over to resist

The radiant path of light aimed to thrill

The darkest of worlds, the tiniest of lands.

Hands that trembled in the wind now grasp

An infant’s hand to protect them from the chill

Which one sent you to bed for weeks end.

Hair, lush and dark with no signs of ending or fraying

Like what your mind used to do each night.

The threads of memory, now, those

Will always fail you.

 

You won’t remember your glory returned

For even I cannot return to you what once

Was never yours.