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Original Poem - Blog Posts
Cogito, Ergo Sum
I write ugly things.
That’s who I am.
I expel the bad onto paper.
Otherwise it gets stuck in me. Emotional constipation.
That’s probably why people hurt each other.
They need to get rid of it. The ache.
Can’t keep it in. Easiest way to get rid of hurt is to pass it onto someone else.
Most readers like it though. The hurt.
Look at Bukowski and Hemingway. They’re successful. Apart from the alcoholism and suicide.
I don’t understand them all that well.
You’re too young to understand, they tell me.
I don’t know about that.
I think I just don’t understand men who create their own suffering.
I’ve had enough pain. Disease and dead friends and all that.
Good thing for a writer though. To suffer.
Suffering brings validity to narrative.
I hate that.
I hate that perspective only matters if the writer has gone through something horrible.
Suffering adds to character. Solidifies it.
I also hate that.
Identity should not be so fickle.
It should be made of curiosity, interests, relationships, passion, and peace.
It should be made, fostered, cared for.
Not victimized.
But maybe that’s just the way we are.
We must rot so that others will salvage our blossoms.
We must dish out counterfeit pain to remember we are alive.
Mortal.
Look at me, you say, beaten red.
I bleed therefore I am.
The Taste of Stale Ink
Ink the backbone of life. Bleeds unwritten.
Swallow back the blue
See how blotches gather under skin.
Cloying, Choking, All Engulfing
Embittered Stagnation.
a due extracted
It Was Greed That Demanded
And Fear Who Commanded
Hope is Thanks. so thank the dirt
from which
Ink and Blood came
breathe.
Be Grateful and Live.
it’s what you still have
In the far distance my father coughs weakly
And scares the cat off of my lap completely
Rice in the fields,
Rice in the bed,
Im too cents less,
Im a mess
Pardon me if I'm wrong
Perhaps I'm just an idiot
I do not take advantage of the road I take
Paved with the blood sweat and tears
Of my ancestors
I do not go to college just for a degree
The paper at the end of four years does not matter to me
The classes I take do not simply fulfill a requirement
I do not study latin just to say Pulchra Femina es to a friend
I looked at someone today, and
Yes, I was colored by curiosity
Becasue my life is more than a few words
Read from a computer screen for a test I will take on Friday
I do not learn to say I know
I learn to expect I know nothing
The classes I attend have a purpose
The money I pay
The debt I choose
Is not for you or my employer
To say that it didn't matter
Yes, my school is too expensive
And yes, the programs I participate in will decorate my resume
But today, I looked at my friends
Crowded around a table to have fun
Like childish adults just trying to make sense of everything
And I knew I never wanted anything less
Then an education.
I want to learn from my peers
Engage in this class,
Maybe try hard or not try at all
But give this road a chance to shine
For the rhyme
I will make of it
If education was free how many people
Would take a class just to know
What color frogs turn in winter
And if Edgar allen poe knew her.
I embrace my debt because it is a privilege
To know my family supports my decision
Even if my bank account runs dry
And the stress piles high
Because being educated is important
At least to me
And I can't
For the life of me
Think of a reason to ban it.
The children in the schools don't know their letters,
But they know how to hide from an active shooter,
They can't use their mind but
They can leave me behind
In a race for their lives.
Maybe I misspoke
I need to know my place, right?
I can't be too woke,
But dammit I can fucking fight.
Fight for the children who deserve to read,
Fight for the young adults who yearn to be
In college
Fight for the women who are fighting for their right,
Fight for the man I call my best friend,
Whose very existence is the definition on rebellion
Fight for the change I want to see,
Even if that change means going back to just yesterday
Rabid
I often think I an rabid.
My heart races,
my eyes dart
my hands tremble.
My teeth ache
to dig into
your shoulder
My nails score
lines in your
hip cradle
You coon and stroke my hair
You kiss my bloody lips
You hold my stained hands.
Waking up
feels like
walking in syrup.
You've moved on
My teeth are dull.
if only we met sooner
if only we had met sooner
i might be really good at golf now
and although you’ve been practicing
you’re still losing at mario kart somehow
if only we had met before
we might have two cats (or four)
we might have been to turkey
and brought home several more
if only we had met earlier
i’d be joining you at the football matches
then we’d go back, have some dinner
then head to bed where i give you back scratches
if only we had met a two years ago
which is when you first saw me
you might be ready
and maybe i would be too
but i guess now we’ll never know
okay so this guy i’m dating told me to write him a poem bc i did ONE assignment on poetry for my english degree and he thinks i’m a poet.
fast forward weeks later and i finally thought of something that doesn’t start with “roses are red, violets are blue”
anyways i’m posting it here. idk if it’s any good, i trust tumblr not to judge me. yes it is sickeningly cute, i apologise in advance. (there is no title yet)
although we’ve known each other less than a while
everyday you make me smile
and that makes it worth every mile
that’s between us across this silly isle
p.s. idk whether to add any other stanzas or if it’s fine as it is 🥹
Def not morbid poem
Can one tell I got depression? I don't think so...
Roses are red
Skies are grey
Our once true love
Now fading away
In moments of darkness
In the face of lies
Nothing is left
But the madness in our eyes
Wow...
Yearning
I fell in love with a ghost her sweet scent accompanying me a whisper in my ear a warm feeling around me in my cold empty bed she joins me in my imagination as we go on great adventures and live out our lives like the lovers we were supposed to be
Recording of Aki Y. (Waring: Slight Body Horror and REALLY long post)
If I die in this world,
Who will know something of me?
I got to record this, through the tremors erupting from my body, and hope that our guardians can decipher this.
-Aki Y.
[...]
"The lifeforms of Earth are ignorant to their fragility. They can be easily exploited by their blissful imagination."
"I agree with you, these creatures often think they're superior. Yet they can't see that we are inside. Breathing in them, LIVING IN THEM. And this machine will be the key to our assimilation."
"And then our master will be invincible."
[...]
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010
01010111 01100001 01110010 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100001 00001010
It's spreading...
The lesions consume the host,
It's skin will not outlast
the many worms burrowing within.
They wear a void [but as long as breath comes from the mouth]
Not even hope [their bodies never stood the slightest chance]
CAN COMFORT THE SOULS OF THE UNTOUCHED [THEIR PRAYERS ARE SILENCED]
All they see [to cease the darkness digesting them]
Is a galaxy of light & warmth [it's not theirs, it doesn’t belong to them]
Even a fake sky will suffice. [As their souls fight for their lives.]
As the deep ocean rises over time itself. [No one will be granted protection and love.]
War will be no more and all wisdom will be lost...
The mystery will be revealed
and shall the old world be reborn.
Come to us Holy Messiah of Silence.
A little comic I doodled out of a poem I wrote a while ago
False Guilt
It’s easier to think,
That you are a monster born broken,
Rather than a human made flawed.
A constellation of scars (with a soldiers story to tell)
A constellation of scars, they tell the story Of a young soldier, beaten and battle weary The taunts, the jeers of those who seek validation The whispers, the rumours of those who see a threat
A collection of memories, they tell the story Of a bright young child, ready to find glory Studying hard for years to come To see their families proud faces When they hit number one
A tale of joy, fleeting yet forever Their mother, their sister, their brother, their father The times spent together with friends Now only a fantasy
The reality of life, an empty black hole The void in their chest where a heart once called home That absence of feeling that clings to their skin The guilt running through their veins that they cloak themselves in
The temptation of pain, just an itch at first Grows to be unbearable in the times it is worst The scabs on their skin that refuse to heal As they are peeled back again and again For that brief chance to feel
The tunnel of darkness continued to grow Would it ever end? They really didn’t know A call from the shadows in the form of a blade Said it brought peace and a moment of escape
The darkness swarmed in on them, promised to keep them safe In the midst of their pain, they didn’t realise it was a cage As the cuts grew in number on their arms, legs, chest and heart They still felt nothing when skin and blade were apart
As the darkness continued to swallow them whole Their loved ones were worried “Where did they go?” And so the acting began, strings of denies “I’m just tired.” They would say, weaving a web full of lies
The fragile strands tightened and coiled Constricting even them into being embroiled. “Maybe I really am just tired, or overreacting,” “Maybe it’s just for attention, to try and feel what I’m lacking.”
The coils wound tight, choking them slowly And though they didn’t realise it, they were succumbing And so the thoughts of death started creeping onto their head “I feel nothing even when cutting, I’m better off dead.”
An attempt was carried out, though they can barely remember a thing Except waking up in hospital, alive and breathing Their mother had found them, draped over the bathroom sink Wrists slit, bleeding out An ambulance was called There was still no feeling
A year had passed and there was still no sign of the end The web of lies had been broken, but the void in their chest remained Even while being smothered with affection There was still no feeling
The world kept rushing past, they stopped trying to keep up months ago But one day it seemed to halt For just a second There was feeling once more
They had been out with their friends Who hadn’t given up just yet On making them feel again Yet another attempt that was set to fail But it didn’t
It was a simple thing really A joke, a smile and then a tidal wave of laughter Seeing the joy that they thought was lost It caused something to stir
An echo of happiness, plucked from a heartstring It resonated through their body And the void seemed to shrink ever so slightly There was life in them yet
Five years passed and they were still no better That echo being the only thing keeping them tethered to this life Why am I not better yet? I should be happy, I should be healed
They began to notice the world The whispers, the rumours Began to notice How the scars littered their skin
Their body, an art piece For those who merely skimmed the surface, it was dangerous and all consuming So they avoided it Criticising the artist to deny their looming feelings of dread To ignore how deep the scars ran
But to those who saw through the critics’ remarks Those who looked deeper Who broke down the walls Who braved the aggression, the masks and the cruelty And saw what lay behind it all A damaged soul, trying to fix themselves with cut hands
The soul of a broken child who grew up too fast A child with a fragile glass heart Shattered to pieces by the harshness of life The expectations, the judgement, the reality It was shattered to protect the holder from the worst But they were still left with their constellation of scars
Those who saw the true meanings were sometimes driven to madness The weight of it too much for their aching shoulders Too weak to carry yet another burden But there were those who could. Those who saw and still stayed Those who showed them, the echo of a life Pulsing through them still
That constellation of scars, that collection of memories, they tell the story Of a brave young warrior, battling enemies even some of the most experienced had never encountered. How exhausted they were, how sick of fighting Who gave up trying to fight back those monsters Who had lost all faith
But who had life in them A pulse that refused to let go Clinging to them even as the darkness led them, Deeper and deeper into despair Echoing constantly, begging for them to hear A pulse that people helped them find
That brought them from their knees That told the young soldier, “Don’t loose hope yet, I’m still beating.” The young soldier hadn’t given up yet They would be victorious
Their constellation of scars, told of memories Good and bad, joyous and despairing The memories of their life past And would tell of the life to come
As the new scars were added, the jeers stayed the same, Unwavering in their goal to hurt
But still, they lived Though their scars never fully healed, their pain never fully erased The void never fully gone
There were good days Where their scars seemed non existent And there were bad days Which broke them all over again
But what was important Was that even if the light disappeared from the tunnel, Even if the dark seemed inescapable, They would always have the pulse in their chest Cheering them on, keeping them going Awaiting the victory only they can achieve. Steadily beating.
Love this 💛
The Hearse
Follow the afterlife's carriage,
Down the winding roads and through each eerie passage,
A melancholy pilgrimage, weeps and prayers fill the air,
Solemn people on the mourners' trail, all with woeful stares,
They embrace the beauty of decay,
A beautiful, lamentable display,
In the final reveal, it's Myself they see confined,
It is me that they grieve for, and the life I've left behind.
- Kat Hollow, 5/5/2024
You know, in a way, we are all roses
We all are beautiful
We all have thorns not only to protect us but to keep others away from hurting us
We all sway with delight
We all look appealing to someone's eye
We are all special in some sort of way
We all show love and prosperity to someone
We all grow
But one day we all will wither
DAY 13: Till Death Do Us Part
The end of a crew. The end of a legend.
If you haven't seen the "Character Death" tag and you don't like when your favorite characters die, there's still time to turn around. The entire crew dies in this story, it's not a spoiler to say that. (And, the warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter, in more or less gruesome ways.) I was looking for a poem to be the story's guideline but I couldn't find one that fit what I was looking for. And even though I don't really need it anymore, I decided to write it myself. The first real chapter will be coming tomorrow or in the next few days but in the meantime I left some clues on how each character dies if you want to decipher them. I originally wrote the poem in French and was unable to make it rhyme in English, to my great disappointment. So I left it for you in French with the translation for each line just below. Fandom : One Piece Character(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Relationship(s) : Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Straw Hat Pirates Words Count : 629 No. 13: TEAM AS A FAMILY Familial Curse | Multiple Whumpees | "Death will do us part." (Set It Off, Partner's In Crime)
À bord du navire des rêves,
(On board the ship of dreams,)
vivaient dix animaux
(lived ten animals)
Tous suivaient leur capitaine,
(All followed their captain,)
un singe avec comme couronne un chapeau.
(a monkey with a hat as a crown.)
Le tigre partit le premier,
(The tiger left first,)
protégeant jusqu’au bout ses camarades.
(protecting his comrades until the end.)
Mais son dos resta intouché,
(But his back remained untouched,)
marquant l'ultime preuve de sa bravade.
(marking the ultimate proof of his bravado.)
Le cheval solitaire fût le suivant,
(The lonely horse was next,)
son vieux squelette ne tenant plus le coup
(his old skeleton no longer holding up)
Ses amis ne le laissèrent pas seul un instant,
(His friends did not leave him alone for a moment,)
tenant sa main jusqu’à son dernier pouls.
(holding his hand until his last pulse.)
La fin commença avec celle du caméléon,
(The end began with that of the chameleon,)
son courage inspirant le monde entier
(his courage inspiring the whole world)
Même devant la Mort il ne baissa pas le front,
(Even in the face of Death he did not lower his head,)
lançant sur la mer les navires par milliers.
(launching ships by the thousands into the sea.)
L’ironie n’échappa pas au canard,
(The irony did not escape the duck,)
quand ses yeux se fermèrent de leur plein gré.
(when his eyes closed of their own accord.)
Il aurait aimé que cela arrive un peu plus tard,
(He would have liked it to happen a little later,)
sombrer dans les bras de la mer dont il avait toujours rêvé.
(to sink into the arms of the sea he had always dreamed of.)
Le taureau résista sans jamais faillir,
(The bull resisted without ever failing,)
quand se déchainèrent les sévices des enfers
(when the torments of hell were unleashed)
Il accueillit la fin avec un sourire,
(He greeted the end with a smile,)
tel était l’adage de l’homme de fer.
(such was the adage of the iron man.)
La chatte affronta sa fin sans ruser,
(The cat faced her end without guile,)
maîtrisant une dernière fois les éléments
(mastering the elements one last time)
Elle ne s’enfuit pas même si elle était effrayée,
(She did not run away even though she was frightened,)
libérant un pays entier du tourment.
(freeing an entire country from torment.)
Le petit renne choisit de rester,
(The little reindeer chose to stay,)
refusant de tourner son dos à ceux dans le besoin
(refusing to turn his back on those in need)
Face à la maladie il ne cessa d’essayer
(Faced with illness he never stopped trying)
et sa compassion causa sa fin.
(and his compassion caused his end.)
La seule grue qui avait réussi à fuir,
(The only crane that had managed to escape,)
finit par retourner à la maison
(ended up returning home)
Pour une fois elle ne pût pas courir,
(For once she could not run,)
et enfermée, elle se plia à la raison.
(and locked up, she bowed to reason.)
L’ours fût là quand personne ne pouvait plus l’être,
(The bear was there when no one could anymore,)
Guidant son capitaine jusqu’à la dernière minute
(Guiding his captain until the last minute)
Il ne laissa jamais sa peur paraître,
(He never let his fear show,)
Continuant jusqu’au bout pour lui, la lutte.
(Continuing the fight to the end for him.)
Le singe resta le dernier,
(The monkey was the last to remain,)
Seul et froid au milieu de la nuit
(Alone and cold in the middle of the night)
Quand il partit, personne n'était là pour l’en empêcher,
(When he left, no one was there to stop him,)
et il prit le soleil avec lui.
(and he took the sun with him.)
Soup is good
Soup is nice
Make it warm
Add some spice
Add some veggies
Add some meat
And your night will be neat
Reblog to give a trans woman a warm cup of soup
Once a month
They tell me it’s a woman's dream/an ancestral right passed down from mother to daughter
A fever lights beneath my skin/red orchids stretching and blooming on my shoulders and back
The great goddesses would smile and kiss my head for this/but I wish they would take it back
The moon with her eternal smirk dances with me/i feel just like the tide, thrown from side to side
My body shakes like a kicked dog/the tremors spread and the entire world seems to quiver as well
I do not feel like myself/ my mother fixes my clothes and tells me that's just how it is
I want to kill myself mother is that just how it is too/it’s not real, it’s just like a dehydration mirage in the desert she tells me
I wail and mother laughs at my dramatics/does she delight in the shared suffering we now have?
I want to cut open my stomach to strangle the snakes writhing in it/mother tells me she's afraid of snakes
I come to my father on my knees like a begging man/this is a woman’s matter he says as he turns his head
When I cry about my miserable existence asking for it’s justification/he says the same as my mother, it’s not real
There is not enough air in the world/but my “sisters” tell me to just breathe, like telling a dead man to still love
I take the tablets/the pills/the capsules/the pellets/the medicine/and I weep like i’ve never known tenderness
I tell God i’ll finally go to church if he takes the pain away and when he doesn’t/i say i’ll start worshiping Satan
I feel like a melancholic girl from the 1800s/banished to the countryside for hysteria
I wish I was hysteric/i wish someone could give me a prescription of living on the land
The little control I still have/i wrestle with like I’m a child trying to keep my favorite toy
The moon waxes and wanes as a crawl on the floor/a wounded bleeding animal
This is womanhood they say, this is punishment/take it back take it back take it back
The resentments and bitterness slip past my lips like puke/isn’t this beautiful, don’t you feel beautiful
I do not want this girlhood, this femininity/give me barren fields and an empty life
I sit with my “sisters” as we talk about Aunt Flow/in this we are a witch covenant bound only by mutual pain
I wish I could give away this regift of living as it was regifted to me/but there is only one way to do that
I feel bruised, achey, and weak/i wish someone would hold me
But mother says it’s natural/and father says to toughen up
I am already so small/why must you make me smaller?
I spoke to god and shes a teenage girl
She’s telling me about K-pop. Was it Jennie or Jung-kook?
I don’t remember and I don’t really get it but she’s so excited so I listen.
Next she begins to show me the dance sequences. They look complicated. And she tells me all about how she and her friends are going to dance together.
I ask how long I’m going to live for.
She says, how tf should I know.
And then she starts telling me about a girl named Marie. She hates Marie. Hates the way Marie holds herself, the way Marie chews her pencils, the way Marie laughs as if she’s been kicked in the teeth.
She hates Marie so I do too.
My hamster dies tragically as they all do. Escaped onto the road and driven over. When she finds out, she mourns.
Her cries make her body convulse, like she's giving up some part of herself. Her sobbing is so loud it rattles the braces on my teeth.
She cries over my hamster’s body for 5 days and when I bury him, she delivers a eulogy so beautiful I’m almost thankful he did die, just so I could hear her speech.
When my grandma gets cancer, I demand an answer from her. Why didn’t she tell me?
She shrugs and says everyone has their time and goes back to scrolling on tiktok.
I pass my exam with a grade so good it’s shocking for mediocre me and she congratulates me.
At my congratulatory dinner, she makes it all about herself and says our friendship was the driving force behind my good grade.
I grab her and pull her into the bathroom, where I slap her so hard there are nail marks on her cheek.
She looks in the mirror, peeved I ruined her lipgloss.
When my first boyfriend cheats on me, I cry so much in her arms that I think I’ve cried enough to fill the Atlantic sea.
She corrects me and tells me it’s closer to The Red Sea.
I ask if I deserved this, she doesn’t answer. I ask if there's something wrong with me, she doesn’t answer. I ask if I am unlovable, she doesn’t answer.
I ask her why she didn’t respond to my last text, she says she was busy.
One day we’re eating ice cream together on a warm summer day, her rum raisin, me elderflower and I ask her what I should do to please her.
She considers the question, humming and haaing on it. Then she tells me, go to the deepest darkest part of the ocean and bring me back one of those funny looking sea creatures.
I ask if she’s being serious and she says she always is.
When i'm dying and we see each other again, she first tells me about all my wrinkles and gray hairs and recommends a guy she knows that could help with that.
Are we going to be together forever now, I ask?
She wrinkles her nose at that and says no, you bring down the vibes.