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Literature Text
You’ll be my ever after
But you don’t know the story.
Maybe you see a beanstalk
Coloring my eyes,
Maybe red suits me
Accent to my wolf-pelt hair,
And the bling on my shoes
May just pass for glass in the moon,
But though you shine without armour,
Though the white steed’s hooves
Ring in your laugh, dazzle in your smile,
You don’t know the story.
My mind is a dark and stormy night
Lingering inside the last bramble-
The one you never see
Inside the leaves and berries
That I offer in place of the truth
So you won’t know the story.
Before you wake me up
From frozen summer dreams,
Before you search through giants’ homes
To hunt that bramble out,
Please just remember that
You’re my ever-after.
‘Cause the frogs have done the kissing,
And there was no golden ball,
And the only wolves I’ve noticed
Are guests at granny’s house.
But you should know the story.
You’ve sworn to carry my basket
Safely through the woods,
Said the shoe can only fit
My dear little foot (fetishist),
And you’ve promised to bring
The golden goose from some high-up place.
I know nobody’s perfect-
You’ll always be my prince-
But I gave up on ever-afters,
Put my bramble-heart to sleep,
As I watched you stride off to the sunset-
Because now you know the story.
But you don’t know the story.
Maybe you see a beanstalk
Coloring my eyes,
Maybe red suits me
Accent to my wolf-pelt hair,
And the bling on my shoes
May just pass for glass in the moon,
But though you shine without armour,
Though the white steed’s hooves
Ring in your laugh, dazzle in your smile,
You don’t know the story.
My mind is a dark and stormy night
Lingering inside the last bramble-
The one you never see
Inside the leaves and berries
That I offer in place of the truth
So you won’t know the story.
Before you wake me up
From frozen summer dreams,
Before you search through giants’ homes
To hunt that bramble out,
Please just remember that
You’re my ever-after.
‘Cause the frogs have done the kissing,
And there was no golden ball,
And the only wolves I’ve noticed
Are guests at granny’s house.
But you should know the story.
You’ve sworn to carry my basket
Safely through the woods,
Said the shoe can only fit
My dear little foot (fetishist),
And you’ve promised to bring
The golden goose from some high-up place.
I know nobody’s perfect-
You’ll always be my prince-
But I gave up on ever-afters,
Put my bramble-heart to sleep,
As I watched you stride off to the sunset-
Because now you know the story.
Literature
plumbum
she has a heart of gold
and she, a heart of lead
and she, a heart of uranium.
and they go walking sometimes, the three of them.
gold is confident in her worth,
untarnishable
bought and sold and bought and sold
the virgin whore
and lead behind,
heart heavy in her chest
guilt from bullets
and pride from pipes
and anxiety from irreparable brain damage
and somewhere off to the side treads uranium,
tumors growing,
white skin glowing,
thin frame for a dense core.
Literature
anemic, broken, and growing up anyway
when my sister was five, she dictated a letter to me in her strong little voice
while dust drifted in the sunshine
of our creaky old room.
dear me [she said],
barney is the best. i will wear blue all the time even though i'm a girl. my heart beats without me telling it to and that's pretty cool. i think people always feel better if you tell them you love them. i will always smile because i have dimples when i smile.
love,
me.
"did you write it?" she asked, and i told her i did, every word
with the chunky yellow pencil i'd fished out of my school bag.
i handed her the letter, and she folded it up carefully
and she smiled.
when my s
Literature
The Galaxy Sings in B Flat
The galaxy sings in B flat.
Fifty-seven octaves below middle C, hundreds of thousands of tiny stars with little worlds trailing atmospheres in elliptical orbits. Double-star systems, triple-star, more; planets, civilisations, dark matter, tangible matter, all circling, swarming, humming together in one enormous note, not bumping together but carrying a wave from the centre of their island universe, expanding out into space…
Sound cannot exist in a vacuum. This is a widely known fact. And space is a vacuum, sure. But only when you look at it from here, from our tiny little world. Close your eyes, zoom out, and look at the celestial
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Working title, not pleased with it.. so, I saw this thing to write a thingy on 'Betrayal' which, done and posted in the forum it was on, and now posted here just 'cause i can. the first draft ended with the second stanza, just fun trivia and all.
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Comments8
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I like the rollicking rhythm, but I don't like how you switch from exact fairytale details to sort of overpoemy descriptions of them (especially the first stanza, where it took awhile to realize that was the schtick you were using for the poem).
I think you could be more explicit about what is actually happening, without compromising your form/subject matter. In all, it was an amusing read, though I think some of the other work you've done is much better.
I think you could be more explicit about what is actually happening, without compromising your form/subject matter. In all, it was an amusing read, though I think some of the other work you've done is much better.