Commendable to wear many hats;
Condemnable to wear many masks

Observing the outcome, I malign my own fate; his slithering tongue stripped me of my strength; jeered me as I was crushed beneath time's burdensome weight

#poetry #writingcommunity

Remote flames grow hotter every hour and sirens in the sky are but a passing distraction

#poem #poetry

How many hours spent accounting in whispered, knelt prayer of every cross emotion or sideways glance, of any spirit of contention or contrary stance Forgive me, forgive me, my weak rotting flesh

#poetry #poem

The burden of the builders, the sacrifice of the soldiers, and the frustration of the founders, some old, some new— was more than blistered hands, and sore, aching feet. It was lost friends, and donated youth, millions of dreams shattered, but one vision shared, bound by a mutual ethic that was born by the epic union of paper meeting pen. From meaningful words were cities built, roads paved, bricks laid— a future envisioned. Buildings raised, children born, promises made— then forgotten, or forsaken, traded for momentary comfort for the few. Which, on paper, endlessly stacking, meaningless, papers, is certainly within their rights to do. But when promises mean nothing, and a man's word has nothing to do with honor, or integrity, or the social contract we all once knew, and everything we've been building for centuries is no longer ours to continue trying to improve, and the words we put on paper now take food out of our children's mouths, and lock our loved ones in cages, then there’s little left for us to do than burn it all the fuck down, And build it all anew.

Is it #poetry or a #rant
You can decide for yourself 😅
#PoemsAbout #BurnItDown

@alanparry83.bsky.social
@brokenspinearts.bsky.social

I'm expected to thank the serpent That is slowly tightening around my chest Because every breath I could once take Was only a priviledge Every square inch of lung capacity Was borrowed, not a gift She kisses my face Whispers in my ear While squeezing my neck More and more

#poetry #writingcommunity

A tribute to one of the great queer voices, Edmund White. In remembering those who carved truth into the margins, we’re reminded that every act of honest self-expression is a form of transition and resistance.
#PoemsAbout #transition @alanparry83.bsky.social @brokenspinearts.bsky.social

To everyone who's taken the time to read and enjoy my little poem, thank you! 💜❤️🧡

If you looked into my eyes You might see my mother Looking back at you As they belonged to her Before they were mine And her mother before her Generation after generation Up the family line Nary a difference Higher and higher we climb Until we reach a point Somewhere across the ombre of time Where green had long since turned to blue And I'm face to face With a woman who's eyes I never knew

@alanparry83.bsky.social
@brokenspinearts.bsky.social
My late night entry for #PoemsAbout
#transition (take #2 after correcting a silly spelling error 😅)

I thought if we all showed our true colors, our inner most evils, then we'd be able to heal with time.

But what I discovered was beyond my capacity to correct, and once out, it could never again be concealed.

Now I reminisce of when evil lurked just beneath the surface.

#Art
#writingcommunity

Seems clarity only comes at the very end before we close our eyes one final time daylight is spent in a nervous fantasy the remedy, the grounding truth finally arriving at the surface only in the moment where memories some real, some imagined in our dreams, will soon blend the punchline to the joke finally gets a silent laugh as it strikes gently at the chest a loving condemnation an empty apology an old friend a new resolve all to be lost the next morning

Thankful that tomorrow will come
More And more it seems like sunrises, warm breakfast and hot coffee are all
things to not be taken for granted

#poetry #writingcommunity

My facecard be like

From Rabid Grannies (1988)

Bury me with no casket That I might grow into A tree Then take care of your earth That she may in turn Take care of me

#poetry #writing

Abstract, distorted face with red, blue, and green colors, layered with rough textures and scribbled lines.

Our childhood fears often mingled with fantasy but were never far from truth

Monsters in our closet overwhelmed us until we learned to ignore them and scoff at the our phantasmagoric youth

But in our hearts, we knew—
Despite changing forms and faces, with age, our panic only grew

#poetry #art

Anguished face, blue lighting

#Art

Lounging in Denim

Living in this cold, abrasive world Can make one feel uncovered and exposed So I prefer the comforts of my bedroom With curtains drawn and the door closed There, wrapped in blankets and bedsheets Having lost my pedestrian clothes I tuck myself in, put away the waking world Close my eyes and enjoy a momentary repose

#poetry ##writingcommunity

Im not entirely sure honestly

mes writing poetry comes naturally and other times it feels forced. Out on a walk, the words might come naturally, with no need to coerce them into tight couplets or rhyme schemes. They flow freely through my mind, almost becoming indistinguishable from flowers in a bush, or my breath, or a pleasant smell in the breeze. Then returning home, when I can set time aside to put something on paper, the words will have escaped me. Writing becomes an exercise once again, a muscle to flex. It can be difficult to not judge the poetry that makes it onto paper, when it can hardly compare to the poetry that exists only briefly in the heart. I wish I could share those private feelings or more effectively capture the magic within those ordinary moments. However, I am content to know that whether it can be communicated or not, that you too may feel a similar magic within the mundane. Your heart may also sing a song that requires no rules or measures to be perfectly in tune.

#poetry #writingcommunity

in these brief moments returning home from my desert i remember the taste of clean air and i wonder when it was that my skin forgot the feeling of water suspended here beneath the clouds

#poem #poetry #writingcommunity

Roasting vegetables Eagerly, I await you At the oven door

#haiku #poetry

You braved the storm The hurricane in his eyes Weathered the winds, The thunder, the rain The pain of hail pelting As you fled the floodplain When traversing his turbulence You pushed on in earnestness Withstood his overzealous weather All the while, wishing for zephyrous heathers Then inside his iris— After the gusts had blown In the center of his storm, you found A peace you'd never known

#poem #poetry #writingcommunity

Stormy eyes

Thank you!

Thank you for enjoying it, Amy :)

We grew up together But never got to meet My parents cautioned me Against playdates with you Now after a lifetime at arm's length I can say "hello, precious pain" Let's sit side by side I'll build with the blocks You can knock them over When you feel tired And we'll laugh about it As playmates do Then rebuild Something brand new Block by block As playmates do

#writingcommunity #poetry #poem

Thank you!

Long lasting fatigue Carving its mark in my bones Craving something new

#writingcommunity #poetry #haiku

Not every Word Needs to be Imbued With ultimate Intention Not every Work Has to be Completed With an end In mind Some things are just said Some things are just done

#poem #poetry #writingcommunity

Sun-touched skin Desert-dry lips Knees cracked, peeling From recurrent kneeling Beautiful giants I figure they must be loved By their secret father Whom they call to above When they prayed for rainfall I begged for air Now soaked, nearly choking Oblivious, they smile and wet their hair Drowning in their eaves I, a poor pestersome thing Coursing through the current Until caught in clumps of leaves Father, father I can self prostrate just as well I know you see your children Can you see me as well

My submission for #PoemsAbout #GutterPrayer
Thank you @brokenspinearts.bsky.social and @alanparry83.bsky.social

Larger lachrymal ducts, apparently Different coping mechanisms, plainly Just simple hormones, really A matter of upbringing, maybe I think I'm just tired, lately Well I not even that emotional, mainly I remember my last time, vaguely I'm not scared of crying, baby

#poem
#masculinity is a prison

Sirens screamed through the night Dread winds swept in From someplace unheard of Somewhere unseen Children cried in their cribs Despite their mother's swaddling And coo'ing And pleading We huddled together in the bathtub Held each other tightly Your fingers dug into my elbow My head nestled in your shoulder And all I could think about was your heartbeat The sound of your breath There was nothing else to do Nothing else left

#poetry