The world is burning, the ocean's churning; It is concerning that despite the warning Nations across the world keep ignoring The pleas of the masses that keep on pouring.
Even so, in a bleak and unforgiving world, we rise.
We rise in the petrichor and the apricity Of this blood-drenched madness with curiosity Beaming beyond the boundless banality -- We always have, we always will -- with vitality.
We feel the most, we move the most, We murmur in the susurring ghost Of the pale past and future boast -- To never be satisfied by just 'almost'.
We shall not beg for our rights, We shall not fall for foolish fights, We shall not stop flying our kites, We shall not trade whimsy for might.
We shall make mistakes and learn to do better, We shall ride ahead and break down the fetter, We shall debauch and still be the go-getter, We shall keep going, no matter what, and rewrite the Letter.
The Letter of doom, the Letter of grievance, The Letter of gloom, the Letter of penance -- Even in suffering, depression, and nonfeasance, We shall not, we must not stop -- that is our essence.
Btw, a question, we can put our submissions in the Green Room too, right?
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond skies with one hand waving free, Silhouetted by the trees, circled by the circus sands -- With all memories and fate, driven deep beneath the waves, Let me forget about today until tomorrow...
“It is always sad when someone leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice cream sandwiches.” - Lemony Snicket
There is a version of the room where we are flipping through pictures on a phone, or was it a page of Kafka's diary, but nevermind the point is we are quiet and only the box fan in the corner murmurs, "remember the night?"
We circle titles in tandem before we nod at the choice we pin up on the wall, him on the left me on the right. We stand back with hands at our sides and the box fan whispers, "but the jasmine. the booze."
In the end, we smile weakly but do not remember the wattage of what our true smiles once were, and so we do not feel cold with backs turned -- shoes go by the door, pillows go on beds, and we go opposite ways down Buena Park Blvd.
you can message me with anything: questions, review requests, rants are you a green room knight yet? have you read this week's Squills?
Round two results are in! 12 amazing submissions and 6 moving to the next round. Who will be in the final 2 to win a beautiful custom badge made by yours truly?? (and bragging rights)
God bless the God who sent these small bent fingers to me who taught me to hold my breath through pain and sent me where I would learn to sacrifice so it became second nature for me to catch spit up bell peppers and take swipes to the face.
I walk three times around the kitchen island in observance of the holiness of the thuds small bare feet spread across the tiles like a tidal wave devouring houses like box of Legos spilled into a living room.
Lift my hands to the blue sky on blue sky days that watch him pick a yellow dandelion and try to blow the leaves away.
you can message me with anything: questions, review requests, rants are you a green room knight yet? have you read this week's Squills?
