Today’s post(s) come to us, in no particular order, from three different people, because like buses, good things come in threes. As always, please leave your comments on the main site.
i met Him in the woods and He told me to hold my chin up His
skin black as ash shining
blood in the snow, He gave me a bow fitted for me and said to shoot
i said what for, to shoot what, i don’t want to hurt a creature
and He said the cycle of life requires death, if you reap then you will sow, to kill a cræture is
to give it back.
i said alright but i was scared and He said what if the other hunters come not my Hunters the other ones
man-shaped and hunting crætures like you
and i shot
the arrow fell through the shadow, spilling, and i said to protect i would do anything
and He said now you understand what this is for. and He said daughter, your destructive anger
can construct mountains and miracles. don’t listen to those as say death and life and rot and growth are anything different from each other. look at the berries grow through the snow. it kills the snow, the snow feeds them, they are not beautiful in this way without the snow.
i said, i understand i am an arrow and a Hunter and i am not yours i am my own and i protect
and like this is how my i became an I
two months later i called for Him
with my head in a bush
because the other ones had taken away my I again
and he said take it back and this time He gave me a knife
and I stole nothing
but I held the knife and sat with Him and remembered that i am I.
Listen to Hanif Aburraqib who says
“I don’t know if I believe in rage as something always acting in opposition to tenderness. I believe, more often, in the two as braided together. Two elements of trying to survive in a world once you have an understanding of that world’s capacity for violence.”
and go lightly but know yourself Leave a comment
Sent in by an anonymous reader from Santiago
know true, feel feind
estou na miña lengua perdide
non coa morriña, ni pobo.
lellos turn, so they wanted
¿ Leave a comment
I’m a poet of the future
poet by mission
With pen in hand
I let any dick hard
Strong Viagra is my verse
Fills souls with lust
blowjob by passion
To all subverse morals
I open the gates of hell
Like a lady’s legs
For I am invited to both
May this verse last forever:
I feel sorry for those who love
destined for sadness.