Frostburn Flowers white and blue Cold as the future he left Rain turns into sleet
"You have no control / who lives, who dies, who tells your story" – "Hamilton", Lin Manuel Miranda
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lol suspended on twitter for violent speech against a****w t**e apparently so no Twitter for a week for me 🙃
A Dress (Elegy for 168–180 Children in Minab) She walks out the door Wearing a verdant dress They'd spent a week to save for A smile on her parents' faces — their last — To learn about a world She'll never get to see It was green as the trees With a ribbon as white as the clouds Now covered in soot and ash As scarlet as her classmates Running to the sky.
"Conquest is a lie." — "Act of Union", Seamus Heaney.
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Green Staring across the sea as it shines verdant and vibrant dancing shadows cast by the bay littered with torn sleeves broken leaves shards of a torn city no life but the green-eyed monster.
Not sure that people will get this one but oh well
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Composed after Fireworks, February 18th 2026 Gas drowns the city. Crackling lights thunder — Echoing canisters. Lasers, green, shoot at the sky. (I thought these, much weaker, were called weapons.) The stars retreat. Still. This could have been nice If I had a lover to hold Under all the vibrant lights.
"If you only knew what the future holds / After a hurricane comes a rainbow" — "Firework", Katy Perry
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Year of the Horse The horse clops along. Hooves knocking upon the ever-trimmed floor. Each blade perfection, measured to size And trampled near-instantly, all for a ride. The rider kicks at her sides. Faster. Wrong way. Gallop. Dance. Were it not banished, a thorn-ridden whip; But words he now brandishes, whetted on pride. Ba-da-ba-dum. Ba-da-ba-dum. Faster. Higher. Faster. Higher. There's gold at stake here — go. Go. Go! Faster! There's gold for the jockey Or half a carrot and a bucket of glue.
Sonnet for the Day After While others speak of cherished lovers dear, I'll take the easy rest, the cheaper night And celebrate the next day in delight; For here come the discounted chocolatiers! I'll take a kiss from Hershey's with a cheer. Who cares if my old pants start feeling tight? I'm having fun with me, myself, tonight, Enjoying sweet dessert. Go on and jeer! They're cheaper after Valentine's, yet still They taste the same, albeit without the heart That gifts will bring. I'll just enjoy the thrill Of tasty treats from which I will not part. All that you really need is just the will To eat and eat until you're an old fart.
unfortunately for the narrator, it is chinese new year immediately after it this year... lol :D
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"20 Years to Life" Each breath a freedom Stolen from an unjust judge Buried in a lie.
(the epigraph has been retracted for legal reasons)
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I Will Remain Here I will remain here in the willows Mourning what we never could have lost Unfinished symphonies lying on the floor I will protect you from the sorrows Sparing you from each heart-rending cost Shredded notes disappear as we shut the door I will hold you when I feel hollow Saving me from gloom and dread's grim frost Broken melodies still draw me back to shore
"I will remember you always, until my life is exhausted" — "Kimi no Kioku" (Memories of You, translated), Persona 3
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Puncture Twilight. Half-past two. Staring at a screen. A child lies broken, bleeding tapestries. Unwoven with a puncture by lead sheen. Boys once ran wild. Shrapnel made men. Had beens. Sitting awake — safe — there I was, at ease: Twilight. Half-past two. Staring at a screen. Never “all that you could do”, but the green. Presidents’ faces brought girls to their knees, Unbraided with a puncture too obscene. Forget it all. Some things are best unseen. But the mind torments. And my eyes still freeze— Twilight. Half-past three. Staring at a screen. Where is that playful, young, unbothered teen? Battered by the broken. Lost in debris. Unable. Full of punctures. Age sixteen. “Why?” Asked in the dark. “Was this not foreseen?” As we fell. Broken. Failing to appease. Twilight. Half-past four. Staring at a screen, Unstable. Hopes punctured. Here lies the dream.
"Brought to my knees, I genuflect, / shaking with rage and shame / at the TV set." – "Far Be It", Carol Ann Duffy
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What Comes Next? On one arm A collective sigh of relief Sunlight peeks through bloodied clouds of fear Glimmering with hope On the other A battered constitution Tyrant’s fall by tyrant’s hand Men marched once again to war Lady Justice, blind Has her scales broken Held to the sword by the sword.
Home is the People You Love Six months: all it takes For the stars to drift away Nights turn cold and dim.
"Pity. No stars. I hoped there'd be stars." – Peter Capaldi, the Twelfth Doctor, Doctor Who
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"(To Be Determined)" (a scrap of burnt paper) why write a poem? it's much cheaper to have AI fin (the rest of the text appears burnt away)
In memoriam to the victims in Tai Po.
(paper image from CrazzHky on DeviantArt by CC-BY 3.0 license)
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Madame Sarastro He speaks his witching words of peace and joy. He lies as swift as he denounces lies; Yet he gains praise from every foolish boy, For as a king: his word is law most wise. My daughter, captive, brainwashed; oh, poor slave. Poor slave, Pamina, toyed with by the king! Such loathsome, dangerous trials he'll make you brave! "All this, to keep Tamino's love," you sing. He loves you true, he loves you true already, My daughter, my daughter, can't you feel it? My husband, vile husband tries to steal it, And seal your heart to keep you meek and steady. So run, I bid you, run! Come home to me. Away from his controlling, deadly trials! For through his words he tricks and he beguiles, Within his world you'll ne'er be roaming free. He'll call me temptress, say that women lie. As father he would rather see us die! For all men in his manly world are called equal, Yet women, scorned by him, are made to be feral. I bid you: kill the tyrant here this night! I pray you free the world from his dark light. For women can do more than he would think, For truth is life and by his lies he'll sink.
"Hört, Rachegötter, hört der Mutter Schwur!" ("Hear, gods of revenge, hear the mother's oath!" as translated on Wikipedia) — Mozart, Queen of the Night Aria, "Die Zauberflöte"
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The Cenotaph We stand, solemn, over the unmarked grave That marks the fallen, too many to name. A hollow cenotaph can hardly save The souls once shattered for a tyrant's game. And as we kneel, a drone flies overhead To silence more, to make vile sacrifice, As bright young men will turn the flowers red. All dead. Their blood spilt sprouting edelweiss. And as we kneel another starves to death. And as we weep a soldier lifts his gun. And as we pray a child takes her last breath. And as we stand… she’ll ne’ermore see the sun. We stand, solemn, over the unmarked grave Too drenched in blood too fresh to carve a name. So many lost who did not need to brave Their final day, but for a monster’s shame.
On the Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month. How many died after the papers were signed but before the clock struck eleven? How many still die, after, now?
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need to get back to NY just to try this ngl, jalapeños sounds like a banger addition to an egg and cheese
i'd keep the bacon tho, but obviously i know why he ain't got bacon on his
Ngl the popular with friends tab for me is all just links to something the republicans did fascism again or here's why the dems are at fault again and it's like zzzz
starter packs maybe but also am I really bothered to curate another algorithm to my liking idk lol
anyway i'm gonna be more active here for the next 12 hours ig, i still feel like this place isn't as interesting to scroll ngl tho
so i got my acc locked by twitter for rhetorically telling someone to die first because they said anyone charged with a crime should be thrown off the roof of the court building which like
i feel like that is a valid use of rhetoric in that scenario to point out the absurdity of that idea???
Ozymandias Reborn A tower stands as concrete, mirrors, steel Amidst a drowning district clad in rust. Its shine, too bright — the streets below combust As radiant wealth knocks all the rest to heel. And all that matters is where gold appeals; And all beside is left as ashen dust. For those above glare down in veiled disgust; For those below know false gods cannot feel. A vivid evening skyline only keeps The beauty of the people out of reach; each eye is drawn to vibrancy above. Victoria with her skyward paintbrush sweeps the ugly poors to hide from overreach. And thus is this old city money loves.
Photo taken and edited by me, for once.
Not an indictment on VSA in particular, just a sentiment I caught whilst on my way there for unrelated reasons about a month ago. Finally finished up this poem yesterday.
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Ceasefire Is it over Finally Or will the bombs The taking Devastation continue As the world turns away Replaced by shining new lies?
"Sometimes it is better to lose and do the right thing than to win and do the wrong thing." — Tony Blair
(The irony is intentional.)
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Glory in Excelsis Staring at the cliff face of oblivion Always taunting, always still so tall Dare not look down, behind, and see the million miles you’ve already climbed. The sun shines brightest further up. Further up. Never looking back for fear of hell. Reaching toward the unforgiving light that strips the bones and melts the skin. Higher still, higher still, all this and more, As the heat batters your sunburnt back, The melting muscles still carry on All in search of glory always false.
"Hubris means deadly pride, Percy. Thinking you can do things better than anyone else... Even the gods.” — Annabeth Chase, "Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters" by Rick Riordan
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Bloom Like a technicolor flower, Vibrant and radiant, Straining to bloom through the cold, Daring not to wilt in the summer warmth, Ashamed when the bee lands on another and the pollen goes to waste too much and not enough.
《重蹈覆轍令煩懊而題》 複日瓦下居 避雨房內衰 常再搜工悲 難不揭心虛
Wrote this in the onslaught of rainstorms earlier in the week.
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Prison Cell I wasted the best few years of my life Trapped in a prison of my own making, Tortured by guilt over how I caused strife To old friends forgotten. With memories a decade old waking, Reminding me of every single time I'd hurt another — how I'd been taking Trust and love — turned rotten. Forgiveness forever felt like a crime. Erasing my mistakes; the friends I'd lost! My eyes saw it only for the sublime — Too monstrous to allow. Too late did I these barbed, barred walls accost. My suffering had always felt deserved. I never learnt that self-hate brought a cost. "I'll burn for them," my vow. Yet blisters fester. All my friends, unnerved, As I hurt others just to punish me — Unknowingly. All that I tried conserved My cycle built on pain. Escape. Escape! Not yet too late. For, see, The future where my pain could end is rife With hope, with time, with patience and with glee. I will one day break free.
An Ocean Away Every time my phone goes silent and my friends are nowhere to be found scattered across an ocean littered out of sight my heart sinks cold just waiting like I always have for the tide to come on in waiting for my friends to return yearning the life I no longer live as the waves die on the sand drying into dust draining heat dead till again the tide comes back in a brief buzz brings me to life peeking at my phone; my friends are here, protecting me from pain again. Saved me from myself again.
Their argument would just be that it's Hong Kongers' fault lol
Prideless Who is this cub, so meek, so small that wanders, lost, trapped in a ravine away from pride in a pit of despair with walls of hate for a cub years younger who bore the same face, same mane, same brain? Where is his pride, so swallowed, so meagre, that left him alone for his weakness, his horrid breath and wicked words betraying all his sinfulness? Why does he hunt in a land whose soil turned barren seasons ago where animals flee and rains never fall to the river banks dried but for tears he creates? Who is this cub, the deadly destroyer that murders love, driven by lust for his boyish bled blood of his innocence shed, seeking vengeance at the forgotten hole where he found his soul fled? Where is his pride in the hatred he brings, burning the world with his terrible rage for a mind he once did not lack? Why does he prey on his life, spilling scarlet soiled anger on a field turning crimson from the dried-out dying sins of his still-too-long short life?
I wrote this two weeks ago, but it felt a bit too depressing to share. Feeling a bit better now, and I do think it's good, so here we are.
Still having writer's block, though.
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