A short break from poetry to announce that after 23 years of procrastination, editing, ignoring, and moments of frantic work, I have self-published the first manuscript I ever ‘completed’. What a journey.
I have run out of shits to give to people who demand from me
That which they don’t stand for to enrich themselves.
Grasping cold straws to fill the void of cold life, they stand
For control over my body my life, my choice, which does
Not fill them with anything other than bitterness.
A dark force plays with abandon tearing apart your soul; you cannot admit that
your legacy is blackened and unripe fruit. Treading on it yields neither wine nor juice;
Bottled up, it festers into logic and reason that must needs be denied.
Assumption of superiority helps sooth the waters of turbulent reason while
The bile and fear lap at your toes, calmed only by casting your eyes towards heaven
It is a test you must pass, denying qualms, signs and portents, extinguishing candles lighting the path
Your hair shirt, your denial of the senses; as you cook and then bite into the sadness which you feed
to your child who inherits the fear and the pain wrapped in a bright shell of promise
(A tribute to someone who I no longer have to give a shit about)
The Good Plates
You own a “good” dinner set that you can’t allow yourself to use
You excuse and are obtuse as to why not, you are excessive
In the face of opposition.
Your position is that your mission is to keep it nice,
unbroken, unsullied, unused and so another set is purchased;
The second best set.
And these ones you allow to get wet, but you still expect reverence.
They’re delicate but not untouchable and still quite valuable
You calculate, and hesitate to even place these before
those undeserving and unnerving, who you don’t let yourself respect
Mostly they get to eat off the the third-best set.
So it’s half a dude, holding a projectile weapon, with the rest of him a horse. Which seems really odd to me, because that’s like a mounted Calvary. You should have your archers STATIONARY as they have the ability to PROJECT their weapons at the enemy, and then your CALVARY should charge in and ruin everyone by stomping on them. The weapon of the Sagittarius should be a pike, or a hammer, or something that it can gallop up to someone and smash them with and gallop off again. It’s pointless combining the too. Not good design at all.
I dunno. Olden-days people made a lot of utter shit up, didn’t they.
Oooh predictions. Um, you’ll drop your bow and arrow if you have to go into battle but you will be able to give a lift to King Richard III and that might mean that Bosworth ends very differently.
Hah! Bet you didn’t expect this to be second last. Capricorns are often last and they are ok with that because it’s like when you have a plate full of dinner and you save the best mouthful for the end.
Like, the pork cracking (assuming it’s been cooked it well and it’s not chewy, that’s the worst, isn’t it?). Or, say, on a salad, if you have a chunk of feta cheese that you just wait and wait for and whammo, it’s last, and it almost makes up from the chore of having to eat boring salad!
Scorpios look really good in leather face mask things. No, wait, that’s Scorpius, from Farscape. Have you seen Farscape? What a great show.
Scorpios are named for chitinous insects that snap at and bite you. I don’t know why if they have a star sign called Scorpio they don’t have one called Mosquito. That would be a great astrology sign to predict for. “You will continue to have no friends and be annoying and whiny well into the next year. And Beyond!”